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“No one seems to have valued the written record of that wonderful trip. When the young men got to St. Louis on their return, they did try to make a connected book of it all, but no one valued that book, and they couldn’t get a publisher—think of that! But at last they did get an editor, Mr. Nicholas Biddle, he was, of Philadelphia.

“That poor man waded through over one million words of copy in the ‘notes’ he got hold of at last! But by then President Jefferson was getting anxious about it. By then, too, poor Lewis was dead, and Clark was busy at St. Louis as Indian agent. And Will Clark never was a writer. So, slip by slip, the material faded and scattered.

“Biddle saved the most of it, boiling it down quite a lot. Then he gave it over to Paul Allen, a newspaper man, also of Philadelphia, who did more things to it, getting it ready for the press. This book did not get published until February, 1814, five years after Lewis died and eight years after they got back. By that time a lot of people had had a hack at it. A lot more have had a hack since then; but Biddle is the man who really saved the day, and Allen helped him very much.

“Of late, inside of the last twenty or thirty years, many editions of that great Journal have been issued. The best is the one that holds closest to Clark’s spelling. That’s the best. And I’ll tell you it took genius, sometimes, to tell what he meant, for that redhead spelled by ear.

“Look here—and here. ‘Catholic’ he spells ‘Carthlick’; ‘Loups’—the Indians—he calls ‘Loos.’ He spells ‘gnat’ ‘knat,’ or spells ‘mosquito’ ‘musquitr,’ and calls the ‘tow rope’ the ‘toe rope’—as indeed Lewis did also. He spells ‘squaw’ as ‘squar’ always; and ‘Sioux’ he wrote down as ‘Cuouex’—which makes one guess a bit—and the ‘Osages’ are ‘Osarges,’ the Iowas, ‘Ayauways.’ His men got ‘deesantary’ and ‘tumers,’ which were ‘dificcelt to cure.’ He gives a dog ‘som meet,’ and speaks of a storm which ‘seased Instancetaniously.’ He does a lot of odd things with big words and little ones, as spelling ‘cedar’ ‘seeder’—at least the simplest way! As to jerked meat, I suppose it was as good if spelled ‘jurked,’ or even ‘jirked,’ and a ‘tirkey’ is as good as turkey, perhaps.

“Plain and matter-of-fact, he was, that Redhead Chief, as the Indians called him; yet very little escaped him or his friend, and both could note the beauty of nature. See here, where Clark writes on June 20th (his capitals are odd as his spelling): ‘at Sunset the atmesphier presented every appearance of wind, Blue and White Streeks centiring at the Sun as she disappeared and the Clouds Situated to the S. W. Guilded in the most butiful manner.’

“Can’t you see the sunset? And can’t you see Will Clark, his tongue on one side, frowning as he wrote by the firelight?

“And Lewis wasn’t so much better. For instance, he spelled squirrel as ‘squirril,’ where Clark spells it ‘squarl,’ and he spells hawk ‘halk,’ and hangs a ‘Meadle’ on a chief’s neck. Oh, this old Journal certainly is a curious thing!”

Jesse threw himself down on the sand in a fit of laughter. “I could do better’n that my own self,” said he, at last. “Why, what sort of people were they, couldn’t spell any better than that?”

“Maybe you could,” said Uncle Dick, “but you are not to laugh at William Clark, who was a great man. He did all that writing after a hard day’s work, in a wild and strange country. I suppose it was hard for him to write, but he did it, and here it is.

“Oddly enough, Clark wrote a very fine, clear hand—a gentleman’s handwriting. The Journals are always done in pen and ink. Clark did most of the work in the Journal, but Lewis at times took a hand. Between them they kept what might be called the log of the voyage.

“They worked, all of that party. The oarsmen had to work under a taskmaster all day. Some one had to hunt, for they only had about a ton of cargo, all told, and they only had $2,500 to spend for the whole trip out and back, and to feed forty people two years. And at night the commanders made Gass and Ordway and Floyd and Whitehouse keep journals, too; and Pryor and Frazier did a bit of the same, like enough. They had to cover everything they saw.

“So that is how we got this wonderful Journal, boys—one of the simplest and most manly books ever written. As I said, it was long forgotten and came near being ruined.

“The book of Patrick Gass got out first, and it had many publishers on both sides the ocean—though, of course, it had to be rewritten a great deal. Up to 1851 there had been fifteen real and fake Lewis and Clark books printed, in English, French, and German; and there are about a dozen books with Sergeant Patrick Gass as the ‘author.’

“They had no cameras in those days, but those men brought out exact word pictures of that land and its creature inhabitants. The spelling we must forget—that day was different and schools were rare. But good minds and bodies they surely had. They were not traders or trappers—they were explorers and adventurers in every sense of the word, and gentlemen as well.

“But now,” concluded Uncle Dick, “that’ll do for the story of the Journal. We’ve got it with us, and will use it right along. We’re all ready, now? Well, let’s be off, for now I see the wind is with us, and it’s even more than William Clark started with when his three boats left the Wood River and started up the Missouri. He said they had a ‘jentle brease.’

“Off we go—on the greatest waterway in all the world, and on the trail of the greatest explorers the world has ever known.”

“Now then,” commanded Rob, laying hold of the rail. “Heave—o!” The others also pushed. The good ship Adventurer swung free of the sand and lay afloat. They sprang in. Uncle Dick steadied her with the oars. Jesse and John went ahead to trim ship. Rob gave a couple of turns to the flywheels of the two outboard motors and adjusted his feet to the special steering gear. The doubled motors began their busy sput-sput-sput! Like a thing of life the long craft, Adventurer, of America, turned into the current of the great Missouri, the echoes of the energetic little engines echoing far and wide.

CHAPTER V OFF UP THE RIVER

She’s riding fine, sir,” called Rob to Uncle Dick, over the noise of the two little propellers that kept the gunwales trembling. “I can head her square into the mid current and buck her through!”

Uncle Dick smiled and nodded. “It’s going to be all right! She rides like a duck. Spread that foresail, Frank, you and Jesse. We’ll do our six miles an hour, sure as shooting! Haul that foresail squarer, Jesse, so she won’t spill the wind. Now, Rob, keep her dead ahead.”

“How far did they go each day?” demanded Jesse, “and how often did they eat?”

They all broke out in a roar of laughter over Jesse’s appetite.

“They ate when they could,” answered Uncle Dick, “for they had their hands full, working that big scow upstream. She was loaded heavy, and they often had to drag her on the line. When the line broke, as it did several times, she’d swing into the current and there’d be trouble to pay.

“How far did they go? Well, that’s really hard to say. They usually set down the courses and distances on the bends. For instance, here is the first record of that sort, May 15th. ‘St’ means starboard, right-hand side going up, and ‘Lbd’ means larboard, to the left.

“‘Course and Distance assending the Missourie Tuesday May 15.

Course Mls       West 1-0—   To pt on St Side N 80°W 2-0—    “  “   “  “     “ N 11°W 2-½—    “  “   “  “     “ N 20°W 1-½—    “  “   “  Lbd “ S 10°W 1-½—    “  “   “  St   “ S 22°W 1-0—    “  “   “  “     “   ——         9-½’      

“We’ll not try to keep our own courses, and we’ll have to guess at our distances except as we can estimate it from average speed, which is what they also did. I suppose it seemed a long way. Patrick Gass says it was three thousand and ninety-six miles to the head of the river. Anyhow, they didn’t make it as soon as we shall.”

They ran on steadily, both motors firing perfectly and the sun bright overhead, while the fresh breeze back of them still held fair for most of the bends. They made St. Charles by noon, as had been predicted, but did not pause, eating their lunch aboard as they traveled.

“Our captains didn’t do this,” said Rob. “As near as I can learn, they camped and cooked on shore. And they certainly got plenty of game.”

“I know!” said Jesse, his mouth full of bread and marmalade. “Deer and turkey all along in here, then.”

“Sure!” added John. “Thirty deer, four bear, and two wolves in the first six weeks.”

Uncle Dick sighed. “Well, we’ll have to live on rolls and marmalade, and if Jesse’s appetite holds we’ll have to make a good many towns for supplies. More’s the pity, there’s a good town now about every ten miles or so—two dozen towns in the first two hundred and fifty miles.”

“Aw now!” said Jesse. “Aw now! I guess a fellow can’t help getting hungry. Maybe we can catch some fish, anyhow.”

“Gass said they did,” nodded John. “They got a lot of fine catfish, and I think Patrick Gass must have liked them, way he talks. He says, ‘We are generally well supplied with catfish, the best I have ever seen.’”

“What kind of a grub list did they have?” inquired Jesse; and John was able to answer, for he found the page in the Journal, which was close at hand on a box top, so it could be consulted at any time.

“They didn’t have any marmalade or preserves, or fruit or acid of any kind, and they must have relied on the hunt. They had four bags of ‘parchmeal,’ which I suppose was parched corn ground—the old frontier ration, you know. That was about twenty-eight bushels in all, with some eighteen bushels of ‘common’ and twenty-two bushels of hominy. Then they had thirty half barrels of flour, and a dozen barrels of biscuit, a barrel of meal, fifty bushels of meal, twenty-four bushels of Natchez hulled corn, four barrels of other hulled corn, and one of meal. That was their cereal list.

“They only had one bag of coffee, and one each of ‘Beens & pees,’ as Clark spells them, and only two bags of sugar, though eight hundred and seventy pounds of salt.”

“Not much sweets,” grumbled Jesse. “How about the grease list?” Jesse was rather wise about making up a good, well-balanced grub list for a camping trip.

“Well,” answered John, “they had forty-five hundred pounds of pork, a keg of lard, and six hundred pounds of ‘grees,’ as he calls it. Not so much; and they ran out of salt in a year, and out of flour, too, so they didn’t have any bread for months. They had some stuff spoiled by getting wet.

“They had some trade stuff for the Indians, and tools of all sorts, and other weapons and ammunition. They had sun glasses and an air gun and instruments for latitude and longitude. They

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