of what began to seem an interminable
waterway. One bend, they fancied, they surely identified with the one
mentioned in the _Journal_, which then was thirty miles around and not
much over a half a mile across the neck. They reflected that in more
than a hundred years the great river in all likelihood had cut through
what Clark called the "Narost part," the necks of dozens of such bends.
On the map they identified the Rosebud Indian Reservation to the west.
The great Plains country into which they now were advancing seemed wild,
lonely, and at times forbidding, and the settlements farther and farther
apart. They were in cattle country rather than farming country much of
the time.

The _Journal_ brought up the second great Sioux council of Lewis and
Clark, on the "Teton river"--near Pierre, South Dakota--on the date of
September 25th; but so faithful had the motive power of the good ship
_Adventurer_ proved, that our party pulled into the most suitable
camping spot they could find not too near by, around noon of June 13th.

"Can't complain," said Rob, taking off his grease-spattered overalls and
wiping his hands on a bit of waste. "We've slipped a day on our
schedule, but from what we now know of this little old river, we are
mighty lucky to be here and not down by Council Bluffs, or maybe Kansas
City! It's only a little over three hundred miles now to the Mandans.
That's as far ahead as I can think."

"And as to rowing and paddling and poling and tracking her this
far," added John, "say, twelve hundred miles from the mouth of the
Missouri--whew! It makes my back ache. Seems to me we've skipped
along."

"Well, why shouldn't we?" demanded Jesse. "Those fellows had the finest
kind of hunting in the world; over a thousand of miles of it, to
here--over four thousand miles of it altogether--not a single day that
didn't have some sport in it, and they killed tons and tons of game.
But all that is left for us is water and sand and willows. Ducks and
grouse, yes, but we can't shoot 'em. And I've got so I don't crave to
look a catfish in the face."

Uncle Dick looked at the boys gravely and saw that the monotony of the
long voyage was beginning to wear on them.

"Stick her through to the Mandans, fellows," said he. "We'll see what
we'll see. But Jesse, how can you complain of being bored when right
now you are standing where Will Clark come pretty near being killed by
the Teton Sioux?

"Yes, sir, it was right here that t