White Crane, and Struck-by-the-Pawnee and Half Man likewise spoke. They agreed with what Shake Hand had said. They wanted powder and ball, and, their great father’s “milk”――which was whisky. That evening the Sioux went back, across the river, well satisfied. Pierre Dorion and young Pierre went with them. Old Pierre promised that in the spring he would take some of the chiefs to Washington, that they might meet their new father. Just as the Yanktons were leaving, Captain Lewis beckoned Peter to him. “You had better go with Pierre. He will take you down river in the spring, if not before.” “No, please,” objected Peter. “I rather stay.” “But we’re going clear to the Pacific Ocean, my boy,” spoke Captain Clark. “It will be a hard trip.” “I will go, too,” declared Peter. “Do not want to stay with Sioux. I am white.” “What will you do, along with us, Peter?” “I work. I can talk sign language,” answered Peter, proudly. “There’s something in that, Merne,” laughed Captain Clark. “Now with Dorion gone we’ll need an interpreter to help Drouillard. I fancy Peter knows almost as much as he does.” “You’ve got a kind heart, Will,” replied Captain Lewis, his eyes softening. “But game’s plenty; we’ll have meat enough――and that’s the main question. All right, Peter. You can come as far as the Mandan village, anyway. And in the spring we’ll see.” Whereupon Peter resolved that he would make himself useful, so that they would take him clear to the Pacific Ocean, which lay, according to Patrick Gass and the other men, many, many days’ travel, far beyond the western mountains. V BAD HEARTS Work, work, work! Through this the month of September, 1804, the boats had been toiling on up the sluggish Missouri River, in the present State of South Dakota. With the rains, the winds, and the shallows, everybody, even the captains, was wet all the day, from hauling on the tow-ropes, in and out of the water. The weather turned cold and raw. Shelters of deer hides were stretched over the two pirogues, and in the camps the men made themselves hide coats and leggins and moccasins. Patrick and old Cruzatte together fitted Peter with a buckskin suit that felt much better to him than his other, clumsy garments. After having been gone over two weeks, George Shannon appeared at last, riding through the rain, with only one horse. He had been lost, and had almost starved, and the other horse had broken down. All were glad to see George again. But where, now, were the Teton Sioux? George reported that he had seen none. The last week in September a great smoke was sighted in the distance; and that night three Indian boys swam the river, to enter the camp. They were Tetons, from two villages a few miles above. “Give them some tobacco,” directed Captain Lewis. “Tell them to say to their chiefs that we will hold a council to-morrow morning, near the villages.”