Anyway, soon after noon, this day, Captain Clark's camp was sighted, before.
"What's the matter here?" demanded Captain Clark, the instant that the pirogue grounded. He saw Captain Lewis lying in the stern.
"Nothing serious, Will. Merely a gun wound, in the thigh. Cruzatte shot me by accident."
"De capitin shot!" cried Sa-ca-ja-we-a, running to him.
"I not mean to," repeated Cruzatte, still in much distress. "I t'ink I see one elk in brush."
"That's all right, Cruzatte," consoled Captain Lewis.
Yes, Captain Clark's party all were here, so that the whole company were united again. The captain had had a successful trip down the Yellowstone. The Bird-woman (who now was applying some Indian salve to Captain Lewis's wound) had proved a valuable guide across country. Captain Clark was emphatic in his praise of her. George Gibson had fallen on a sharp piece of timber and driven it two inches into his thigh. Indians had early stolen twenty-four horses, and had left only a worn-out moccasin in exchange. Labiche had trailed them, but had been obliged to give up.
The Yellowstone was a fine stream, with many beaver, and many bear. At the Missouri the mosquitoes had been so pestiferous that only brief camps could be made. Little Toussaint was bitten so severely that his eyes were puffed shut, and the mosquitoes
