"De nex' winter we spen' in de United States," rejoiced Cruzatte. "I play my feedle at Cahokia an' make de pleasure dere."
"We've come away with plenty powder and lead, and plenty salt; that's one good job," remarked Pat.
The powder, sealed in lead canisters, had kept splendidly. Now there were 140 pounds of it. And as to salt—twelve gallons had been packed.
"It's been not such a bad winter, after all, even if we did have only six clear days in six months," laughed George Shannon. "Now we'll soon be rid of our rheumatism."
Spring had arrived; for although the weather continued wet and raw, wild fowl were feeding in the ponds, the gooseberry and honeysuckle were leaving forth in the parks, and the frogs were croaking in the marshes. Many Indians were met; they were gathering along the river, to wait for the salmon to run up from the sea.
"Next full moon," said the Indians. "No salmon till next full moon."
"The second of May, that is," figured Captain Lewis. "Well, we can't wait. We'll have to depend on our guns; for if we wait, winter will overtake us on the Missouri. Where there's nothing to shoot, we can live for a time on dogs and horses."
The Indians seemed poor and starving. Captain Clark was told of a large river emptying from the south: the Multnomah, which is the Willamette. He
