Part Two Chapter 11 The Bee

By marvel, by miracle, the two friends were reunited once more; and surely around the camp fires there were stories for all to tell.

Sacajawea, the Indian girl, sat listening but briefly to all these tales of adventure--tales not new to one of her birth and education. Silently and without question, she took the place of nurse to the wounded commander. She had herbs of her own choosing, simple remedies which her people had found good for the treatment of wounds. As if the captain were her child--rather than the forsaken infant who lustily bemoaned his mother's absence from his tripod in the lodge--she took charge of the injured man, until at length he made protest that he was as well as ever, and that they must go on.

Again the paddles plied, again the bows of the canoes turned downstream. It seemed but a short distance thence to the Mandan villages, and once among the Mandans they felt almost as if they were at home.

The Mandans received them as beings back from the grave. The drums sounded, the feast-fires were lighted, and for a time the natives and their guests joined in rejoicing. But still Lewis's restless soul was dissatisfied with delay. He would not wait.

"We must get on!" said he. "We cannot delay."

The boats must start down the last stretch of the great river. Would any of the tribesmen like to go to the far East, to see the Great Father? Big White, chief of the Mandans, said his savage prayers.