The Captain's Dog: My Journey With the Lewis and Clark Tribe

by Roland Smith

  Our small group proceeded on ahead of the canoes for two days and saw no Indians, but their scent was everywhere and I knew it was just a matter of time before we discovered them or they discovered us.

  On the morning of the third day Captain Lewis decided to search the prairie for an Indian road, hoping it would lead us to the Shoshones. To cover more ground he sent Drouillard out to the right and Private Shields to the left. Private McNeal and I stayed in the middle with the Captain.

  "If you find a road, put your hat on the barrel of your rifle and hold it above your head," the Captain instructed.

  We hadn't gone far when I picked up the scent of a horse. It was very fresh. Nose to the ground, I started following it, getting more excited with every step as the scent became sharper.

  "Hold it, Sea," the Captain said.

  I looked back at him. He and McNeal had stopped and were shielding their eyes from the morning sun. Standing on a low rise a couple miles in front of us was a mounted Indian brave. Captain Lewis took his eagle eye out and aimed it at the horse and rider.

  "He certainly has a different look about him and his horse is a magnificent specimen. I believe we halve found a Shoshone." He handed the eagle eye to McNeal.

  "What do you want to do, Captain?"

  "We'll walk up to him and pray he doesn't run off."

  We walked slowly toward the Indian, and after a while he started walking his horse toward us. Under his breath the Captain said, "That's it ... We are friendly."

  When we drew to within a mile of one another the Indian pulled his horse up. The Captain stopped, unrolled his blanket, raised it above his head three times, then spread it on the ground in front of him to signal his friendly intentions and his desire to trade. But the Indian did not seem interested in the Captain's invitation to sit on the blanket. He appeared to be staring at a point somewhere in back of us.

  "What the devil is he looking at?" The Captain turned around. Drouillard and Shields were a mile behind, walking up on our flanks. "Fools! They're going to scare him off."

  "I could try to holler at them to stop," McNeal offered.

  "No! The brave might think we're up to something and leave." The Captain gave his rifle to McNeal and pulled out a handful of trinkets from his pack. "You wait here."

  He advanced on the Indian and held the trinkets up in the air while shouting, "Tab-ba-bone! Tab-ba-bone!" which he understood from Bird Woman was the Shoshone word for "white man." He drew to within two hundred paces, but the Indian still seemed more interested in Drouillard and Shields, who were gaining ground quickly. The Captain stopped and waved at the two men to stop. Drouillard stopped immediately, but Shields continued forward as if he had not seen the signal.

  The Captain started forward again. "Tab-ba-bone! Tab-ba-bone!"

  At 150 paces the Captain, now nearly frantic to get the warrior's attention on him and off Shields, pulled up the sleeve of his deerskin shirt to his elbow and pointed to his forearm, which had not been darkened by the sun. "Tab-ba-bone!"

  At one hundred paces the Indian turned his horse around and whipped it. A moment later they were gone from view. Captain Lewis stopped and stared at the empty prairie in disbelief. Shields walked up to him without a clue that he had done anything wrong.

  "Why didn't you stop?" Captain Lewis shouted.

  "I didn't realize—"

  "You may have just scared off our only hope of getting over the mountains alive, Private! That Indian is going to tell his tribe we're here and there is a good chance they will go into hiding, all because you were not paying attention. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir, but—"

  "All because a man was daydreaming!" The Captain threw the trinkets on the ground in disgust.

  After spending a miserable night on the wet prairie without much in the way of food, we set out again the next morning. We found a well-traveled trail, which was encouraging, but after following it for twenty very hungry miles our hopes were all but gone. We had seen no game and no Shoshones, though I had been picking up their scent all day long.

  That night the Captain and his men were very dejected, especially Private Shields.

  "If there's a tribe of Shoshones around here," Drouillard commented, "I'd love to know what they are eating."

  As soon as the men went to sleep I went in search of food and came back two hours later without so much as a mouse. What were the Shoshones eating?

  It turned out they were eating roots. The following morning we spotted a group of two Indian women, an old man, and their skinny dogs in the distance. They were pushing long sticks into the ground, digging up plants. Captain Lewis gave his rifle to Shields and told the men to wait where they were.

  The old man ran off as soon as he saw the Captain, and the women were not far behind. They disappeared behind a hill. The dogs were somewhat bolder. One of them slunk up to me. The Captain tried to grab it, but it scooted out of reach. The Captain wanted to tie a few trinkets around the dog's neck with a kerchief, hoping the Indians would see them and realize our intentions were good. He made a second lunge for the dog, but missed again. The dog ran away with his tail flat against his belly like a frightened prairie wolf.

  The Captain signaled the men to join us. "We'll follow their tracks."

  We hadn't been on the trail long when we suddenly came upon three different Indian women, not more than thirty paces away. One of them immediately ran. The remaining two, an old woman and a youngster, sat down on the ground and bowed their heads, trembling with fear. The Captain put his rifle down and slowly approached them.

  "Tab-ba-bone," he said quietly, trying to calm them. "Tab-ba-bone." When he reached the old woman he gently encouraged her to stand. She did so, but her legs were shaking so badly they barely supported her frail body. "Tab-ba-bone." The Captain pulled his sleeve up. "Tab-ba-bone."

  The old woman didn't understand what he was saying, but she was clearly curious about the white skin of his forearm. The Captain gave her some blue beads. The fear left her face and her legs stopped shaking.

  The Captain called Drouillard over. "Ask her to call the girl who ran away. I suspect she's hiding nearby. I don't want her to run off and alarm the tribe until we have a chance to explain ourselves."

  It took some fancy hand-talk, but Drouillard managed to get his meaning across. The old woman called out for the girl and a moment later she returned, out of breath from fear. Captain Lewis gave her a handful of beads, then painted all the women's faces with vermilion, a kind of red paint, which Bird Woman had said was a sign of peace to the Shoshones.

  "Are they Shoshones?" Shields asked.

  "I believe they are," the Captain said. Shields was very relieved. "Ask them to take us to their camp."

  Drouillard made the signs and the old woman led us down the trail. We hadn't gone two miles when sixty mounted Shoshone warriors rode toward us at full speed. Hurriedly, before they reached us, Captain Lewis put his rifle down and pulled an American flag out of his pack. He held the flag over his head as he walked forward, followed by the old woman and two girls. When they got up to the riders, the old woman showed the chief the blue beads she had been given and explained that the Captain had come in peace.

  The chief's stern face broke into a wide grin. He jumped off his horse and embraced the Captain, shouting, "Ah-hi-e! Ah-hi-e!" which I learned later meant "I am much pleased! Much rejoiced to see you!" The other Shoshones followed the chief's lead, jumping from their horses and hugging the Captain and the other men as if they were long-lost brothers. I even got a few pats and hugs.

  Captain Lewis painted vermilion on their faces and the Indians responded by tying a few small seashells in the men's and my hair.

  The Captain spread his blanket on the ground, started a parley, and passed the pipe around. The chief confirmed that he and his men were from the Shoshone tribe. He told us his name was Cameahwait. Captain Lewis gave him the American flag he was carrying.

  August 15, 1805

  We have finally
found the Shoshones. They are friendly and have more than enough horses to get us over the mountains, but there isn't a scrap of meat in their camp. This morning we took half of our flour and mixed it with a few berries for breakfast. This we shared with Cameahwait and he was overjoyed with this pitiful meal. I'll delay here a few days to give Captain Clark a chance to reach the fork of the Jefferson River.

  Drouillard and I met with Cameahwait and asked him about the route over the mountains. What he told me was very disturbing and I can only hope he is mistaken....

  CAPTAIN LEWIS, Drouillard, and several Shoshones sat in a circle outside Cameahwait's brush lodge. The chief told them that they would not be able to take the Jefferson River through the mountains. That in fact there was no floatable river through the mountains. He drew a map in the dust with a stick, piling up mounds of dirt to depict the terrible mountains. He explained that his tribe had never been on the other side of the mountains because the journey was too dangerous.

  "He must be mistaken," the Captain said to Drouillard.

  "I don't think so, Captain. His people have been living here for a long time."

  Captain Lewis stared at the shells tied into Drouillard's bushy hair, then pulled off one of the shells in his own hair and held it out to Cameahwait. "Ask him where he got this seashell."

  Drouillard made the signs and Cameahwait nodded and gave a long discourse in hand-talk.

  "He says that the shells came from the Nez Percé tribe on the west side of the mountains," Drouillard explained. "They get them from Indians downriver, who get them from Indians farther downriver. The Nez Percé and Flathead tribes come over to this side of the mountains to hunt buffalo and to trade. They also come over to fight the Blackfeet Indians, who steal from them and take their women and are very bad people."

  We had heard this about the Blackfeet from every tribe we had talked with. It was said that they had gotten muskets from the French trading post to the north and that they knew how to use them.

  "If Nez Percé and Flatheads can cross the mountains," the Captain said, "we can cross the mountains. The chief must be exaggerating the difficulties."

  "Why would he do that?" Drouillard asked.

  "In order to keep us here with our rifles. These people are starving. Our guns could help get meat for them."

  "Providing there's meat around here," Drouillard said, "which I have not seen hide nor hair of. No, I think the chief is telling us the truth about the mountains."

  If Cameahwait was right, then there was no Northwest Passage. Captain Lewis could not quite get his mind around what he had just heard. I had spent many nights listening to the captains discuss this passage and what it meant to the future of their country. It was a severe blow for him. He sat mute for several minutes, staring at the mounds of dirt.

  Cameahwait became increasingly uncomfortable with the silence. "I have upset your chief," he signed, looking concerned.

  Drouillard shook his head. "He is just admiring your fine map." He nudged Captain Lewis. "Captain?"

  Captain Lewis looked up.

  "We need to continue the parley," Drouillard said quietly.

  "Yes, of course." The Captain smiled at Cameahwait, but there was no real joy behind it "Ask him if there is anyone who has been over the mountains who could speak to us about the route."

  Cameahwait talked with the other Shoshones sitting with us, then told us there was one man who had made the journey many years ago.

  "Can we talk to him?"

  Cameahwait said the man lived in another encampment a few miles away, but he would be happy to take us to him.

  A large number of Shoshones followed us as we walked across the prairie, laughing and chattering away. The Shoshones were a handsome people, although somewhat gaunt from lack of food. Their clothing was made out of beautifully tanned deerskin decorated with beads and shells. Some of the men wore a fur garment draped over their shoulders, called a tippet, made of river otter or delicate ermine skins. Others wore robes made from prairie wolf, antelope, deer, or buffalo skins. Like other tribes we had encountered, most of the men wore scalps taken from their enemies tied to their leggings.

  I liked these Shoshones. They were very outgoing and friendly. The same could not be said for their dogs, who were the snappiest mongrels I had yet encountered along the trail. The only things that kept them at bay were my size and the occasional kick and whack from the Shoshones, who considered it rude for them to bite at me.

  The Captain named the old man who had been across the mountains Old Toby, because the Captain couldn't pronounce his real name. We sat outside Old Toby's lodge and Captain Lewis shared a pipe of our tobacco with him.

  Old Toby told the Captain that the mountains were very perilous this time of year.

  "No food," he signed. "Horses fall from cliffs. Men will be crippled with foot soreness. The snow will freeze all of you to death."

  Captain Lewis was undeterred. "Ask him if there is a big river going through the mountains." His mind was still on the Northwest Passage.

  "There are no rivers you can take to get through the mountains, but there is a big river on the other side that leads to a stinking lake with water you cannot drink."

  "The Pacific. The big river must be the Columbia."

  The Captain and Drouillard spent the rest of the afternoon talking to Old Toby and Cameahwait. The chief readily agreed to lend us thirty horses to retrieve our supplies at the Jefferson River, and consented to lead us there and lend a hand.

  Captain Lewis asked Old Toby if he would guide us over the mountains. Old Toby said he would think about it and let us know in a few days.

  That night in camp there was a lot of talk among the Shoshones about the wisdom of taking us to the Jefferson. Most of them believed we were leading them into a trap and would kill them. By morning they were convinced of this and Cameahwait informed Captain Lewis that he was still willing to take us but his men refused to go.

  Captain Lewis began haranguing the Shoshone men, with Drouillard translating his harsh words into hand-talk. The Captain called them cowards, challenged their manhood, and said other rough things, which Drouillard had a difficult time expressing.

  Cameahwait joined the Captain in the harangue. He swung onto his horse and yelled that he would rather die than break his word to the Captain. And if the Captain planned on killing him, he was not afraid to die. He had to repeat this speech three times before a few of his men were shamed enough to mount their horses. When we left the village there was much crying and wailing. The women were convinced the men were riding off to certain death.

  Not long after we left we were joined by a dozen more men. A little later it seemed as if the entire village had joined us—men, women, children, and dogs were strung out for a mile behind us. I suspected their change of heart was brought on not by courage but by their empty bellies. They did not want to miss the chance that our rifles might get lucky.

  That night the Captain sent Drouillard ahead to hunt, but he returned a few hours later without anything. Captain Lewis mixed the last of the flour and divided it. He gave me half of his portion, but it was like dropping a pebble into a dry well. I was almost ready to eat some dirt, just for the pleasure of having something inside of me.

  Early the following morning Captain Lewis again sent Drouillard out ahead to hunt. I wanted to go with him, but the Captain wouldn't allow it.

  "You stick around, Sea. I don't want you chasing the game off."

  A ridiculous notion, but I had no choice in the matter. We waited before proceeding, to give Drouillard a head start.

  We hadn't gone far when a Shoshone who had been following Drouillard came galloping up, screaming that Drouillard had shot a deer. The Shoshones ran in the direction the rider had come from, like the prairie was on fire behind them. Captain Lewis and I followed at a more dignified pace, although I wanted to bolt ahead.

  When we arrived, there was a scene I would not have believed if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Drouillard h
ad stripped the guts out of the deer and the Shoshones were at the pile like a pack of famished wolves. Blood dribbled out of the corners of their mouths as they gulped down pieces of heart, lungs, and liver. One of the braves had gotten ahold of a string of intestine and was feeding it into his mouth with one hand as he pushed the foul contents out with the other hand. They were eating my food! I was about to join the fray, but Captain Lewis stopped me.

  "Steady, Sea ... Better wait for them to get their bellies full or they're liable to gobble you down right along with the deer."

  "Caw! Caw! Caw!"

  White Feather appeared in the tree above the Indians. I barked a greeting up to him.

  "Quiet, Sea!" Captain Lewis scolded. "You'll get your turn."

  The crow flew down to the ground and landed right in front of me. He allowed me to sniff him but to my surprise I could not pick up a single scent from his shiny feathers. I glanced at Captain Lewis and when I looked back, White Feather was gone.

  "I'll go off and see if I can get another deer," Drouillard said.

  McNeal had managed to save a quarter of the deer for us. We stood guard over our small pile of meat and watched the Shoshones devour every remaining scrap of flesh, including the soft part of the deer's hooves. When they finished the meat, they gnawed the bones clean, bit knuckles off the ends, and sucked the bones hollow.

  We heard the report of Drouillard's rifle. The Shoshones ran to the sound, and the scene was repeated.

  A short time later Drouillard fired again at some distance, but the Shoshones stayed put. He walked up with a third deer slung over his shoulder. The Shoshones didn't even get up. I was reminded of the wolves we had seen along the Missouri too gorged with meat to move.

  "Looks like our guests are full," the Captain said. He began building a fire to cook our dinner. I couldn't wait and started in on the deer entrails, joined by a half dozen ravenous Shoshone dogs.