"Golly!" babbled York. "Dat chief mighty brash when he get started."
The barge and the pirogues gained the middle of the river. Rapidly the Teton village was left behind. Patrick Gass waved his hat derisively.
"Bad luck to yez," he said. "Sure, an' if we'd stayed a minute longer we'd ha' put your town into mournin'. We're not so paceful as we look." And he added: "The 'Rikaras nixt. We'll hope they be gintlemen. Annyhow, we've no horses left for 'em to stale."
Just what was to be expected from the Arikaras nobody might say, but although they were warlike they were thought to be not so mean as the Teton Sioux. The boats forged on, and the month changed to that of October.
"How far to the 'Rikara villages, sir?" asked Captain Lewis, of a trader named Valle who came aboard the barge for a talk.
"By river about 100 miles, captain."
From an excursion ashore with Captain Clark and squad, York returned tremendously excited.
"We done found one o' dem white b'ars," proclaimed York. "Yessuh, me an' Marse Will. Oof!"
"Where'bouts, York?"
"Whar's his scalp?"
"Did you get a shot at him?"
Questions were volleyed thick and fast. York wagged his woolly head and rolled his eyes.
