he woman who can never
be his, who is another's. Is it not true?

Happiness is not for us. We are so far apart. I am sad. Good
night, Meriwether Lewis! I, too, have your picture by
me--the one you gave me years ago when I was in Virginia.
And it--good night, Mr. Meriwether Lewis!

Place me apart--far from you in the room. Let my face not
look at you direct. But in your heart--your hard heart of a
man, intent on dreams, forgetful of all else--please, please
let there linger some small memory of her who dares to write
these lines--and who hopes that you never may see them!

CHAPTER X

THE ABYSS

The little Indian dog sat on the table, silent, motionless, looking at
its master, whose head was bowed upon his arms. Now and then it had
stooped as if it would have looked in his face, but dared not, if for
very excess of love. It turned an inquiring eye to the door, which,
after a time, opened.

William Clark, silent, stood once more at the side of his friend. He
looked on the sad and haggard face which was turned toward him, and
fell back. His eye caught sight of the folded paper crushed between
Lewis's fingers. He asked no questions, but he knew.

"Enough!" broke out Meriwether Lewis hoarsely. "No more of this--we
must be gone! Are the men ready? Why do we delay? Why are we not away
for the journey home?"

So impatient, so incoherent, did his speech seem that for a time Clark
almost feared lest his friend's reason might have been affected. But
he only stood looking at Lewis, ready to be of such aid as might be.

"In two hours, Merne," said he, "we will be on our way."

It was now near the end of March. They dated and posted up their
bulletins. They had done their task. They had found the great river,
they had found the sea, they had mapped the way across the new
continent. Their glorious work had gloriously been done.

Such was their joy at starting home again, the boatmen disregarded the
down-coming current of the great waters--they sang at the paddles,
jested. Only their leader was silent and unsmiling, and he drove them
hard. Short commons they knew often enough before they reached the
mouth of the Walla Walla, where they found friendly Indians who gave
them horse meat--which seemed exceedingly good food.

The Nez Perces, whose country was reached next beyond the Walla
Wallas, offered guides across the Bitter Roots, but now the snow lay
deep, the hor