“Where did the Osage get you?” “Do――not――know,” said Peter, slowly, trying to speak the right words. “Kill――father. Take mother. She die. Long time ago. Me――I white.” “Sure, Captain, didn’t we hear down St. Louis way of a family by the same name o’ Kerr bein’ wiped out by the Injuns some years back,” spoke Patrick Gass, saluting. “’Twas up country a bit, though I disremember where, sorr.” “Yes, but there was no boy.” “There was a bit of a baby, seems to me like, sorr,” alleged Sergeant Gass. “An’ the woman was carried off, sorr.” Captain Lewis shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “Very well, Pat. You go forward and you and Shannon see if you can do anything for Floyd. Don’t let him move much. He’s liable to be restless.” “Yes, sorr.” Patrick Gass saluted but lingered a moment. “If I might be so bold, sorr――――” “What is it?” “Seein’ as how the boy’s Irish――――” “Irish! He’s as black as an Indian!” “Yes, sorr. But the eyes an’ hair of him, sorr. An’ sure he has an Irish name. An’ I was thinkin’, beggin’ your pardon, sorr, if you decided to kape him a spell, Shannon an’ me’d look after him for ye, sorr. We Irish are all cousins, ye know, sorr.” Young Captain Lewis’s mouth twitched; he shot a glance at Captain Clark, who smiled back. “Does that sound to you like an Irish name, Captain? More like good old English, to me!” “I was thinkin’ again, sorr,” pursued Pat, “that more like it’s _O_’Kerr.” “That will do, Gass. Go forward and find Shannon, and the two of you tend to Floyd.” Patrick saluted and trudged away. Captain Lewis continued, to Captain Clark: “There’s something back of this, Will. Gass is too willing. I’ll wager he and Shannon know more than we do.” “Oh, it’s the Irish in him, Merne. Do you think they smuggled the lad aboard?” “If they did――――who brought you on this boat?” demanded the Long Knife Chief of Peter. Peter shrugged _his_ shoulders. “I come,” he said. “Why?” “Go with ’Nited States. Up big river.” “Who taught you to speak English?” “My――mother,” stammered Peter. “No English; ’Merican; Ken-tuck-y.” “Kentuckian!” blurted Captain Clark. “He is white, sure enough. That comes pretty close to home-folks, Merne. I know some Kerrs there, myself.” “But the question is, what are we to do with him?” reminded Captain Lewis, sharply. “We can’t cumber ourselves with useless baggage, and we can’t start out by stealing children from the Indians.” “No; and yet it sort of goes against the grain to let the Indians keep any children they’ve stolen,” argued Captain Clark. “Yes, I agree with you there, Will,” answered Captain Lewis. “But the President instructed us to make friends with all the tribes. We could have shown the Otoes they were wrong, and could have offered to buy the boy or have made them promise to send him to St. Louis if we couldn’t send him ourselves. This looks like bad faith.” “Shall we stop and put him ashore, Merne?”