Late in the night the Yanktonnais drums still sounded, long after a dozen Sioux had spoken, and after the two white chieftains had arisen and left the council fire. The people of the village were feasting around half a hundred fires. The village was joyous, light-hearted, and free of care. The hunt had been successful.
"Look at them, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, as they paused at the edge of the bluff and turned back for a last glimpse at the savage scene. "They are like children. I swear, I almost believe their lot in life is happier than our own!"
"Tut, tut, Merne--moralizing again?" laughed William Clark, the light-hearted. "Come now, help me get my eelskin about my hair. We may need this red mane of mine further up the river. I trust to take it back home with me, after all, now that we seem safe to pass these Sioux without a fight. I am happy enough that our business today has come out so well. I am a bit tired, and an old bull gave me a smash with his horn this morning; so I am ready to turn into my blankets. Are all the men on the roll tonight?"
"Sergeant Ordway reports Shannon still absent. It seems he went out on the hunt this morning, and has not yet come back. I'll wait up a time, I think, Will, to see if he comes in. It is rather a wild business for a boy to lie out all night in such a country, with only the wolves for company. Go you to your blankets, as you say. For me, I might be a better sleeper than I am."
"Yes, that is true," rejoined Will Clark, rubbing his bruised leg. "It is beginning to show on you, too, Merne. Isn't it enough to be astronomer and doctor and bookkeeper and record-keeper and all that? No, you think not--you must sit up all night by your little fire under the stars and think and think. Oh, I have seen you, Merne! I have seen you sitting there when you should have been sleeping. Do you call that leadership, Captain Lewis? The men are under you, and if the leader is not fit, the men are not. Now, a human body will stand only so much--or a human mind, either, Merne. There is a limit to effort and endurance."
His friend turned to him seriously.
"You are right, Will," said he. "I owe duty to many besides myself."
"You take things too hard, Merne. You cannot carry the whole world on your shoulders. Look now, I have not been so blind as not to see that something is going wrong with you. Merne, you are ill, or will be. Something is wrong!"