about noon on September 23d.

"What they must have left, how they were received is something which we
do not need to take up now. At least, they were kept busy by their
friends in St. Louis, be sure of that.

"And so closed that story of the two great travelers in whose footsteps
we have been traveling this summer, my young friends. They did not claim
ever to be heroes. They did their work simply and quietly, with no bluff
and no pretense. I don't believe anyone in all the world to-day can
realize what those men actually did.

"Perhaps we, who have followed after them, doing in three months as much
as we have, can get a little notion of a part of what their journey
meant, even skipping as we have. But that they have been sufficiently
honored, or that enough of our Americans really understand what they
did, I myself never have believed."

Uncle Dick turned away from the table and walked out into the open air,
where he was silent for quite a time.

"Give your bed rolls to Billy," said he, at length, to his young
friends. "He will take care of those buffalo robes forever. We may need
them again, some time, all together. I will telegraph to have the
outboard motors sent down to be fitted on our boat, the _Adventurer_, at
Mandan. Of course, we could run down the Missouri a hundred or maybe one
hundred and fifty miles a day; but as I said to you, that country is
getting old now and the edge of our trip is wearing off. We have been
dodging towns and farms long enough. Let's get on the train and go
straight home!"

And so now, after most reluctant farewells to Billy Williams and Con
O'Brien, the young explorers, light of luggage, and, indeed, not heavy
of heart, after all, changed their transportation that very day to the
"medicine wagons," as the Indians formerly called railway trains, and
soon were speeding eastward out of the Rocky Mountains and across the
great Plains and Prairies.

At St. Paul they changed for the train to St. Louis. En route they made
no further reference to their own journals, and even John had ceased his
interminable work on his handmade maps. The _Journal_, however--that
great record of the Lewis and Clark expedition up the Missouri--remained
always easily accessible; and just before the termination of their
journey Uncle Dick picked it up once more and called his young friends
around him.

"We will soon be in St. Louis now," said he. "Here is where our
explorers started out, and here is wher