Free The Captain's Dog by Roland Smith Page B

village that afternoon.

    About this time an Indian dog showed up in camp. I had smelled it following us for several days and hoped it had the sense not to show itself, but its hunger drove it into camp late one evening. It slunk into the firelight and flopped down right in front of me. Poor thing. Bones sticking out, open sores on the skin.
    "Look, Seaman has a girlfriend!"
    "He could do better than that."
    "Followed him all the way from the Mandan village."
    She was not a Mandan or Hidatsa dog. She had been out on her own for quite some time.
    Drouillard threw her a scrap of beaver meat, but she didn't touch it, fearing I might attack her. I backed away to give her room and she snapped up the meat and
bolted back into the trees. Now that she had gotten a taste of food I knew she would be back, and I hoped she wouldn't suffer the same fate as my prairie wolf.
    I had not seen White Feather since the fire on the Mandan prairie. Every time I heard a crow I would run to the sound and was disappointed when I found the cawing came from a common crow.

April 20, 1805
We have been held in camp for several days due to severe winds and I've taken advantage of our stay by making a thorough exploration of this area. I found a dead Indian on a scaffold not far from our camp. Lying next to him were several baskets, his tomahawk, the body of his dog, and his sled. The Indians often sacrifice the animals that have helped them in lift. I explained to Sea that I didn't think this would be necessary in his case if I should pass on, and for a moment I thought he understood what I was talking about.
    We have traveled far enough upriver from the Mandan and Hidatsa villages to see the game increase, which is a great relief to all of us. There are a number of dead buffalo along this stretch of river, caught on snags or washed up on shore. They must have fallen through the ice and drowned. Wolves and other animals feast on their soft flesh, and near one of the carcasses we
saw bear tracks bigger than anything I could have imagined...
    " MUST BE ONE OF those grizzly bears," Captain Clark said. "Look at the size of that track."
    We had heard about grizzly bears from the Mandan villagers. The Mandans also called them white bears because when such a bear gets older the tips of its hairs turn lighter. The Indians and the French trappers were scared of them, and it was no wonder. The tracks were huge. Not only this, the bear had dragged that buffalo a good fifteen feet farther up the bank in the soft sand. The idea of an animal that could leave a print that deep and move a buffalo that far made the hair on my back stand straight up. I knew right then that I would not like grizzly bears.
    "I don't blame the Indians for being afraid of them," Captain Lewis said. "I wouldn't want to face a bear that size with a bow and arrow. But we will have no trouble with our rifles."

    It was whelping time on the prairie. The next morning Captain Clark shot a buffalo. As York gutted and skinned it we watched a pack of wolves pull down a calf that could not keep up with the herd. The calf's mother came back and tried to defend her pup. She stamped
her feet and lowered her head to charge, but this did not frighten the wolves. In fact, the lead wolf jumped right onto her bade. She shook him off, but fear had gotten the better of her and she galloped away and joined the herd without her calf.
    That same afternoon, while Captain Lewis and I were returning to camp, a buffalo calf followed us. It wasn't much bigger than I am. I think it would have followed us all the way back to camp, but Captain Lewis started laughing and the sound scared the calf away.
    "I believe he thought you were a buffalo calf, Sea," Captain Lewis said. "You're about the right size and shape. Better watch yourself, or one of our men will shoot you."

April 24, 1805
Once again we are stranded in camp because of severe wind. Tomorrow, weather permitting, the boats will proceed on, but regardless of the