He stooped down and took her grayed head in his hands as she looked up at him. She recalled other times when he had come from the forest, from the wilderness, bearing trophies in his hands. He bore now trophies greater, perhaps, than any man of his age ever had brought home with him. What Washington had defended was not so great as that which Lewis won. It required them both to make an America for us haggling and unworthy followers.
"My son!" was all she could say. "They told me that you never would come back, that you were dead. I thought the wilderness had claimed you at last, Merne!"
"I told you I should come back to you safe, mother. There was no danger at any time. From St. Louis I have come as fast as any messenger could have come. Next I must go to see Mr. Jefferson at Washington--then, back home again to talk with you, for long, long hours."
"And what have you found?"
"More than I can tell you in a year! We found the mysterious river, the Columbia--found where it runs into the ocean, where it starts in the mountains. We found the head of the Missouri--the Ohio is but a creek beside it. We crossed plains and mountains more wonderful than any we have ever dreamed of. We saw the most wonderful land in all the world, mother--and we made it ours!"
"And you did that? Merne, was that why the wilderness called to you? My boy has done all that? Your country will reward you. I should not complain of all these years of absence. You are happy now, are you not?"
"I should be the happiest of men. I can take to Mr. Jefferson, our best friend, the proof that he was right in his plans. His great dream has come true, and I in some part helped to make it true. Should I not now be happy?"
"You should be, Merne, but are you?"
"I am well, and I find you still well and strong. My friend, Will Clark, has come back with me hearty as a boy. Everything has been fortunate with us. Look at me," he demanded, turning and stretching out his mighty arms. "I am strong. My men all came through without loss or injury--the splendid fellows! It is wonderful that in risks such as ours we met with no ill fortune."
"Yes, but are you happy? Turn your face to me."
But he did not turn his face.
"I told my friend, William Clark," he said lightly, as he rose, "to join me here after an hour or so. I think I see his party coming now. York rides ahead, do you see? He is a free negro now--he will have stories enough to set all our blacks idle for a month. I must go down to meet Will and our other guests."