s born out here. My dad was rich in the 'sixties, then he
went broke, like everybody. When he got old he married and settled. He
took to ranching and hunting, and I've taken to ranching. Times are
quieter now. They weren't always quiet, along this little old creek,
believe me!"

"Gee!" said Jesse, rubbing his head, which had a bump on it, "I'd like
to pan some gold!"

"I expect you could," said Billy. "Might get the color, even now, on the
Jefferson bars, I don't know. Of course, they've learned how to work the
low-grade dirt now--cyanide and dredges and all. It's a business now!

"Yes, and when we get along a day or so farther, beyond the Forks, I'll
locate a few more spots that got to be famous for reasons that Lewis and
Clark never dreamed. From the head of the Canyon up the beaver swarmed;
this was the best beaver water in America, and known as such. That was
the wealth those boatmen understood. No wonder Lewis thought it would be
a good place for a fort. And the traders did build a fur post at the
Forks, in 1808. And the Blackfeet came. And they killed poor old
Drewyer and a lot of others of the fur traders. Oh, this was the dark
and bloody Blackfeet ground, all right."

"Tell us about it, Uncle Dick!" Jesse was eager.

"Wait, son. We are still on foot with Clark, you know, and we don't know
where the boats are, and we haven't found any Shoshonis and we've not
too much to eat. Wait a day or so. We've only done about twenty-five
miles, and that's a big day for the packs--not a much faster rate than
Clark was marching. He nearly wore out himself and his men, on that
march. I fancy not even York, his cheerful colored man, came in that
night as frisky as old Sleepy."

"That's right," said John. "It was just as Mr. Williams said--he
freshened up and came in playing, kicked up his heels when his load was
off, and bit me on the arm and kicked old Nigger. And there he is now,
with another thistle saved up!"

CHAPTER XXII

AT THE THREE FORKS

Something of the feverish haste which had driven Capt. William Clark,
when, weary and sore-footed, he and his little party has crowded on up
along the great bend of the Missouri and into the vast southerly dip of
the Continental Divide, now animated the members of the little pack
train, which followed as nearly as they could tell the "old Indian road"
which Clark had followed. They felt that they at least must equal his
average daily distance of twenty-one miles.