It was early in the forenoon when they came to the Father of Waters, and they began making signals to those on the other side to come to their help. There were plenty of boatmen who turned an honest penny in this way, and the party was not kept waiting long. A broad flat boat, with a square sail, was seen to put out from the wharf, and the two occupants began laboring with might and main. They used long poles for most of the distance, for the wind was more favorable for the return, then swung big paddles, and so at last brought the awkward craft to the eastern bank. The situation was complicated at first because the couple were Frenchmen who could hardly speak a word of English, but it was easy to make them understand that their services were needed to place the party in the town on the other bank. George and Victor Shelton had a moderate supply of Spanish silver—that country still claiming the territory—and Deerfoot carried some. The Blackfoot, of course, had nothing of the kind. The price asked by the Frenchmen was moderate, and men and animals went aboard. Horses and owners proved a dangerously heavy cargo. The looks of fear showed on the faces of the _voyageurs_, as they were by profession, when Zigzag, the last, stepped gingerly aboard with his load. Even Deerfoot was anxious, for the flatboat sank near to its gunwales. Fortunately a moderate breeze was blowing in the right direction, and by trimming boat and using care the party made the passage without mishap. On the western bank our friends found themselves in a motley and interesting community. The chief business of St. Louis, as it continued to be long afterward, was trading in furs. From that point boats ascended the Mississippi or, a short distance above, turned off up the Missouri, the big brother of the great stream, carrying with them hunters and trappers, some of whom remained for long months in the wild regions of the Northwest. When the _voyageurs_, with their rhythmic songs and vigorous swing of their oars, came down the river again, they brought with them valuable loads of peltries, which found ready sale at the post. The pay received by these hardy adventurers, and which represented in most instances toil, privations and perils extending through many weary weeks, was, as a rule, speedily wasted in riotous living. Penniless, remorseful and without credit, the hunters and trappers had no choice but to make off again, returning in due time to repeat their folly, or mayhap to fall victims to the treachery of the red men whose territory they invaded. The visitors attracted less attention than they expected. Indians and white hunters were too common a sight in St. Louis to be remarked upon. Perhaps if the inhabitants had known that the last visitors were on their way to the other side of the continent they would have given them more heed, but, on the advice of Deerfoot, the secret was kept from all chance acquaintances.