nized as her
own people, from whom she had been wrested when a child. The Indians
broke into songs of delight, and Sacajawea, dashing through the crowd,
threw her arms round an Indian woman, sobbing and laughing and exhibiting
all the hysterical delight of a demented creature. Sacajawea and the
woman had been playmates in childhood and had been captured in the same
war; but the Snake woman had escaped, while Sacajawea became a slave and
married the French guide.

Meanwhile, Captain Clark was being welcomed by Lewis and the chief,
Cameahwait. Sacajawea was called to interpret. Cameahwait rose to
speak. The poor squaw flung herself on him with cries of delight. In
the chief of the Snakes she had recognized her brother. Laced coats,
medals, flags, and trinkets were presented to the Snakes; but though
willing enough to act as guides, the Indians discouraged the explorers
about going on in boats. The western stream was broken for leagues by
terrible rapids walled in with impassable precipices. Boats were
abandoned and horses bought from the Snakes. The white men set their
faces northwestward, the southern trail, usually followed by the Snakes,
leading too much in the direction of the Spanish settlements. Game grew
so scarce that by September the men were without food and a colt was
killed for meat.

By October the company was reduced to a diet of dog; but the last Divide
had been crossed. Horses were left with an Indian chief of the
Flatheads, and the explorers glided down the Clearwater, leading to the
Columbia, in five canoes and one pilot boat. Great was the joy in camp
on November 8, 1805; for the boats had passed the last _portage_ of the
Columbia. When heavy fog rose, there burst on the eager gaze of the
_voyageurs_ the shining expanse of the Pacific. The shouts of the
jubilant _voyageurs_ mingled with the roar of ocean breakers. Like
Alexander Mackenzie of the far North a decade before, Lewis and Clark had
reached the long-sought Western Sea. They had been first up the
Missouri, first across the middle Rockies, and first down the Columbia to
the Pacific.

Seven huts, known as Fort Clatsop, were knocked up on the south side of
the Columbia's harbor for winter quarters; and a wretched winter the
little fort spent, beleaguered not by hostiles, but by such inclement
damp that all the men were ill before spring and their very leather suits
rotted from their backs. Many a time, coasting the sea, were th