Boats containing trading parties were met constantly. Surely, thought Peter, St. Louis cannot be very far ahead. At a fifty-miles-a-day clip the boats proceeded. Soon the captains did not stop even to hunt; and camp was broken before daylight!
August 20 another glad shout arose.
"Cows, boys! Look at the cows! We're near the settlements."
"'Tis the best sight I've seen in better'n two years," proclaimed Sergeant Pat. "Faith, I'm in that state o' mind when I could kiss a cow on the nose!"
"What is cow, Pat?" invited Peter, staring.
"Oh, murther, an' ye don't know!" bewailed Pat. "The cow be the buff'lo civilized, Peter. She be the white man's buff'lo. She gives us milk to drink an' butter to ate, an' the breath of her is swater'n the prairie breeze an' the voice of her is beautiful."
"La Charette! I see La Charette!" cried old Cruzatte.
La Charette was the first white man's village! The captains ordered guns to be fired, and told the men to cheer. Down to the shore hastened the inhabitants. They, too, cheered. They talked part in French, part in United States. What a chatter sounded! They almost carried the men to the houses.
"We nefer expec' to see you again!" they exclaimed. "We t'ink you all scalped. Haf you been far?"
"To the Pacific Ocean," was the answer.
