running, shouting, jostling. Exclamations sounded again and again. The air trembled with the excitement. In the boats, the men were agrin—waving, calling, and old Cruzatte capering. Only the captains and Big White stood motionless, as proper for chiefs, waiting until the pirogue made landing.
"Eet ees Lewis an' Clark!"
"Dey haf return' from de dead!"
"Huzza! Huzza! Welcome home!"
"Where you been, these two years and a half?"
Important personages pressed forward, to grasp the captains and shake their hands vigorously.
"What news, Captains? What news from beyond the Mandan town? Did you succeed in crossing the mountains?"
"Yes, sir."
"And how much farther?"
"To the Columbia and the Pacific!"
"Marvelous! Any fatalities?"
"Only the death of Sergeant Floyd, by disease."
"And what distance traveled?"
"About eight thousand miles."
"Remarkable! The world shall ring with your story."
"Yis, we've borne the greatest flag in the world to the other side the greatest country in the world; an', b' gorry, we're all here to tell the tale," pronounced Pat, as following the captains the men (and Peter!) sprang to the waiting arms.
