Part Two Chapter 2 The Mysterious Letter

"Yes, that is true," rejoined Will Clark, rubbing his bruised leg. "It is beginning to show on you, too, Merne. Isn't it enough to be astronomer and doctor and bookkeeper and record-keeper and all that? No, you think not--you must sit up all night by your little fire under the stars and think and think. Oh, I have seen you, Merne! I have seen you sitting there when you should have been sleeping. Do you call that leadership, Captain Lewis? The men are under you, and if the leader is not fit, the men are not. Now, a human body will stand only so much--or a human mind, either, Merne. There is a limit to effort and endurance."

His friend turned to him seriously.

"You are right, Will," said he. "I owe duty to many besides myself."

"You take things too hard, Merne. You cannot carry the whole world on your shoulders. Look now, I have not been so blind as not to see that something is going wrong with you. Merne, you are ill, or will be. Something is wrong!"

His companion made no reply. They marched on to their own part of the encampment, and seated themselves at the little fire which had been left burning for them.[4] [Footnote 4: The original journals of these two astonishing young men--one of them just thirty years old, the other thirty-four--should rank among the epic literature of the world. Battered about, scattered, separated, lost, hawked from hand to hand, handed down as unvalued heritages, "edited" first by this and then by that little man, sometimes to the extent of actual mutilation or alteration of their text--the journals of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark hold their ineffacable clarity in spite of all. Their most curious quality is the strange blending of two large souls which they show. It was only by studying closely the individual differences of handwriting, style, and spelling, that it could be determined what was the work of Lewis, which that done by Clark.