"I do not know. I must save all the time possible. And Peria----"

"Yes, Excellency."

"Have my pistols well cared for, and your own as well. See that my
small powder-canister, with bullets, is with them in the holsters. The
trails are none too safe. Be careful whom you advise of our plans. My
business is of private nature, and I do not wish to be disturbed. And
here, take my watch," he concluded. "It was given to me by a friend--a
good friend, Mr. Wirt, and I prize it very much--so much that I fear
to have it on my person. Care for it in the saddle-trunk."

"Yes, Excellency."

"Do not call me 'Excellency'--I detest the title! I am Governor Lewis,
and may so be distinguished. Go now, and do as I have told you. We
shall need about ten men to man the barge. Arrange it. Have our goods
ready for an early start tomorrow morning."

All that night, sleepless, fevered, almost distracted, Meriwether
Lewis sat at his desk, writing, or endeavoring to write, with what
matters upon his soul we may not ask. But the long night wore away at
last, and morning came, a morning of the early fall, beautiful as it
may be only in that latitude. Without having closed his eyes in sleep,
the Governor made ready for his journey to the East.

Whether or not Peria was faithful to all his instructions one cannot
say, but certainly all St. Louis knew of the intended departure of the
Governor. They loved him, these folk, trusted him, would miss him now,
and they gathered almost _en masse_ to bid him godspeed upon his
journey.

"These papers for Mr. Jefferson, Governor--certain land-titles, of
which we spoke to him last year. Do you not remember?" Thus Chouteau,
always busy with affairs.

"These samples of cloth and of satin, Governor," said a dark-eyed
French girl, smiling up at him. "Would you match them for me in the
East? I am to be married in the spring!"

"The price of furs--learn of that, Governor, if you can, while on your
journey. The embargo has ruined the trade in all this inland country!"
It was Manuel Liza, swarthy, taciturn, who thus voiced a general
feeling.

"Books, more books, my son!" implored Dr. Saugrain. "We are growing
here--I must keep up with the surgery of the day; I must know the new
discoveries in medicine. Bring me books. And take this little case of
medicines. You are ill, my son--the fever has you!"

"My people--they mourn for me as dead," said Big White, the Mandan,
who had never returned to his people up