the flats, the men returned
frostbitten with their loads of meat. The sky was dark. The days were
short.

To improve the morale of their men, the leaders now planned certain
festivities for them. On Christmas Eve each man had his stocking well
stuffed with such delicacies as the company stores afforded--pepper,
salt, dried fruits long cherished in the commissary, such other
knickknacks as might be spared.

On Christmas Day Drouillard brought out a fiddle. A dance was ordered,
and went on all day long on the puncheon floor of the main cabin. In
moccasins and leggings, with hair long and tunics belted close to
their lean waists, the white men danced to the tunes of their own
land--the reels and hoedowns of old Virginia and Kentucky.

The sounds of revelry were heard by the Mandans who came up to the
gate.

"White men make a medicine dance," they said, and knocked for
entrance.

Two women only were present--the wife of Jussaume, the squaw man, and
Sacajawea, the girl wife of Charbonneau, the interpreter of the
Mandans. These two had many presents.

The face of Sacajawea was wreathed in smiles. Always her eyes followed
the tall form of Meriwether Lewis wherever he went. Her own husband
was but her husband, and already she had elected Meriwether Lewis as
her deity. When her husband thrashed her, always he thrashed her
husband.

In her simple child's soul she consecrated herself to the task which
he had assigned her. Yes, when the grass came she would take these
white men to her own people. If they wanted to see the salt waters far
to the west--her people had heard of that--then they should go there
also. The Bird Woman was very happy that Christmas Day. The chief had
thrashed Charbonneau and had given her wonderful presents!

All the men danced but one--the youth Shannon, who once more had met
misfortune. While hewing with the broadax at one of the canoes, he had
had the misfortune to slash his foot, so must lie in his bunk and
watch the others.

"Keep the men going, Will," said Meriwether Lewis. "I'll go to my room
and get forward some letters which I want to write--to my mother and
to Mr. Jefferson. At least I can date them Christmas Day, although
Providence alone knows when they may be despatched or received!"

He returned to his own quarters, where he had erected a little desk at
which he sometimes worked, and sat down. For a moment he remained in
thought, as the sound of the dancing still came to him, gla