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                         Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction December 1961.
 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
 on this publication was renewed.

                             Remember the

                                Alamo!

                         By R. R. FEHRENBACH

       THIS IS, I THINK, ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL COMMENTS
       ON THE      MODERN SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY I HAVE SEEN--A
       REALLY BLOOD-CHILLING LITTLE TALE....

                      ILLUSTRATED BY SCHOENHERR

Toward sundown, in the murky drizzle, the man who called himself Ord
brought Lieutenant colonel William Barrett Travis word that the Mexican
light cavalry had completely invested Bexar, and that some light guns were
being set up across the San Antonio River. Even as he spoke, there was a
flash and bang from the west, and a shell screamed over the old mission
walls. Travis looked worried.

[Illustration:]

"What kind of guns?" he asked.

"Nothing to worry about, sir," Ord said. "Only a few one-pounders, nothing
of respectable siege caliber. General Santa Anna has had to move too fast
for any big stuff to keep up." Ord spoke in his odd accent. After all, he
was a Britainer, or some other kind of foreigner. But he spoke good
Spanish, and he seemed to know everything. In the four or five days since
he had appeared he had become very useful to Travis.

Frowning, Travis asked, "How many Mexicans, do you think, Ord?"

"Not more than a thousand, now," the dark-haired, blue-eyed young man said
confidently. "But when the main body arrives, there'll be four, five
thousand."

Travis shook his head. "How do you get all this information, Ord? You
recite it like you had read it all some place--like it were history."

Ord merely smiled. "Oh, I don't know _everything_, colonel. That is why I
had to come here. There is so much we don't know about what happened.... I
mean, sir, what will happen--in the Alamo." His sharp eyes grew puzzled for
an instant. "And some things don't seem to match up, somehow--"

Travis looked at him sympathetically. Ord talked queerly at times, and
Travis suspected he was a bit deranged. This was understandable, for the
man was undoubtedly a Britainer aristocrat, a refugee from Napoleon's
thousand-year Empire. Travis had heard about the detention camps and the
charcoal ovens ... but once, when he had mentioned the _Empereur's_ sack of
London in '06, Ord had gotten a very queer look in his eyes, as if he had
forgotten completely.

But John Ord, or whatever his name was, seemed to be the only man in the
Texas forces who understood what William Barrett Travis was trying to do.
Now Travis looked around at the thick adobe wall surrounding the old
mission in which they stood. In the cold, yellowish twilight even the
flaring cook fires of his hundred and eighty-two men could not dispel the
ghostly air that clung to the old place. Travis shivered involuntarily. But
the walls were thick, and they could turn one-pounders. He asked, "What was
it you called this place, Ord ... the Mexican name?"

"The Alamo, sir." A slow, steady excitement seemed to burn in the
Britainer's bright eyes. "Santa Anna won't forget that name, you can be
sure. You'll want to talk to the other officers now, sir? About the message
we drew up for Sam Houston?"

"Yes, of course," Travis said absently. He watched Ord head for the walls.
No doubt about it, Ord understood what William Barrett Travis was trying to
do here. So few of the others seemed to care.

Travis was suddenly very glad that John Ord had shown up when he did.

On the walls, Ord found the man he sought, broad-shouldered and tall in a
fancy Mexican jacket. "The commandant's compliments, sir, and he desires
your presence in the chapel."

The big man put away the knife with which he had been whittling. The
switchblade snicked back and disappeared into a side pocket of the jacket,
while Ord watched it with fascinated eyes. "What's old Bill got his
britches hot about this time?" the big man asked.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Ord said stiffly and moved on.

_Bang-bang-bang_ roared the small Mexican cannon from across the river.
_Pow-pow-pow!_ The little balls only chipped dust from the thick adobe
walls. Ord smiled.

He found the second man he sought, a lean man with a weathered face,
leaning against a wall and chewing tobacco. This man wore a long, fringed,
leather lounge jacket, and he carried a guitar slung beside his Rock Island
rifle. He squinted up at Ord. "I know ... I know," he muttered. "Willy
Travis is in an uproar again. You reckon that colonel's commission that
Congress up in Washington-on-the-Brazos give him swelled his head?"

Rather stiffly, Ord said, "Colonel, the commandant desires an officers'
conference in the chapel, now." Ord was somewhat annoyed. He had not
realized he would find these Americans so--distasteful. Hardly preferable
to Mexicans, really. Not at all as he had imagined.

For an instant he wished he had chosen Drake and the Armada instead of this
pack of ruffians--but no, he had never been able to stand sea sickness. He
couldn't have taken the Channel, not even for five minutes.

And there was no changing now. He had chosen this place and time carefully,
at great expense--actually, at great risk, for the X-4-A had aborted twice,
and he had had a hard time bringing her in. But it had got him here at
last. And, because for a historian he had always been an impetuous and
daring man, he grinned now, thinking of the glory that was to come. And he
was a participant--much better than a ringside seat! Only he would have to
be careful, at the last, to slip away.

John Ord knew very well how this coming battle had ended, back here in
1836.

He marched back to William Barrett Travis, clicked heels smartly. Travis'
eyes glowed; he was the only senior officer here who loved military
punctilio. "Sir, they are on the way."

"Thank you, Ord," Travis hesitated a moment. "Look, Ord. There will be a
battle, as we know. I know so little about you. If something should happen
to you, is there anyone to write? Across the water?"

Ord grinned. "No, sir. I'm afraid my ancestor wouldn't understand."

Travis shrugged. Who was he to say that Ord was crazy? In this day and age,
any man with vision was looked on as mad. Sometimes he felt closer to Ord
than to the others.

The two officers Ord had summoned entered the chapel. The big man in the
Mexican jacket tried to dominate the wood table at which they sat. He
towered over the slender, nervous Travis, but the commandant,
straight-backed and arrogant, did not give an inch. "Boys, you know Santa
Anna has invested us. We've been fired on all day--" He seemed to be
listening for something. _Wham!_ Outside, a cannon split the dusk with
flame and sound as it fired from the walls. "There is my answer!"

The man in the lounge coat shrugged. "What I want to know is what our
orders are. What does old Sam say? Sam and me were in Congress once. Sam's
got good sense; he can smell the way the wind's blowin'." He stopped
speaking and hit his guitar a few licks. He winked across the table at the
officer in the Mexican jacket who took out his knife. "Eh, Jim?"

"Right," Jim said. "Sam's a good man, although I don't think he ever met a
payroll."

"General Houston's leaving it up to me," Travis told them.

"Well, that's that," Jim said unhappily. "So what you figurin' to do,
Bill?"

Travis stood up in the weak, flickering candlelight, one hand on the
polished hilt of his saber. The other two men winced, watching him.
"Gentlemen, Houston's trying to pull his militia together while he falls
back. You know, Texas was woefully unprepared for a contest at arms. The
general's idea is to draw Santa Anna as far into Texas as he can, then hit
him when he's extended, at the right place, and right time. But Houston
needs more time--Santa Anna's moved faster than any of us anticipated.
Unless we can stop the Mexican Army and take a little steam out of them,
General Houston's in trouble."

Jim flicked the knife blade in and out. "Go on."

"This is where we come in, gentlemen. Santa Anna can't leave a force of one
hundred eighty men in his rear. If we hold fast, he must attack us. But he
has no siege equipment, not even large field cannon." Travis' eye gleamed.
"Think of it, boys! He'll have to mount a frontal attack, against protected
American riflemen. Ord, couldn't your Englishers tell him a few things
about that!"

"Whoa, now," Jim barked. "Billy, anybody tell you there's maybe four or
five thousand Mexicaners comin'?"

"Let them come. Less will leave!"

But Jim, sour-faced turned to the other man. "Davey? You got something to
say?"

"Hell, yes. How do we get out, after we done pinned Santa Anna down? You
thought of that, Billy boy?"

Travis shrugged. "There is an element of grave risk, of course. Ord,
where's the document, the message you wrote up for me? Ah, thank you."
Travis cleared his throat. "Here's what I'm sending on to general Houston."
He read, "Commandancy of the Alamo, February 24, 1836 ... are you sure of
that date, Ord?"

"Oh, I'm sure of that," Ord said.

"Never mind--if you're wrong we can change it later. 'To the People of
Texas and all Americans in the World. Fellow Freemen and Compatriots! I am
besieged with a thousand or more Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have
sustained a continual bombardment for many hours but have not lost a man.
The enemy has demanded surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison is
to be put to the sword, if taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon
shot, and our flag still waves proudly over the walls. I shall never
surrender or retreat. Then, I call on you in the name of liberty, of
patriotism and everything dear to the American character--" He paused,
frowning, "This language seems pretty old-fashioned, Ord--"

"Oh, no, sir. That's exactly right," Ord murmured.

"'... To come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving
reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand
in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain
myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is
due his honor or that of his homeland. VICTORY OR DEATH!'"

Travis stopped reading, looked up. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" Ord breathed.
"The greatest words of defiance ever written in the English tongue--and so
much more literate than that chap at Bascogne."

"You mean to send that?" Jim gasped.

The man called Davey was holding his head in his hands.

"You object, Colonel Bowie?" Travis asked icily.

"Oh, cut that 'colonel' stuff, Bill," Bowie said. "It's only a National
Guard title, and I like 'Jim' better, even though I am a pretty important
man. Damn right I have an objection! Why, that message is almost
aggressive. You'd think we wanted to fight Santa Anna! You want us to be
marked down as warmongers? It'll give us trouble when we get to the
negotiation table--"

Travis' head turned. "Colonel Crockett?"

"What Jim says goes for me, too. And this: I'd change that part about all
Americans, et cetera. You don't want anybody to think we think we're better
than the Mexicans. After all, Americans are a minority in the world. Why
not make it 'all men who love security?' That'd have world-wide appeal--"

"Oh, Crockett," Travis hissed.

Crockett stood up. "Don't use that tone of voice to me, Billy Travis! That
piece of paper you got don't make you no better'n us. I ran for Congress
twice, and won. I know what the people want--"

"What the people want doesn't mean a damn right now," Travis said harshly.
"Don't you realize the tyrant is at the gates?"

Crockett rolled his eyes heavenward. "Never thought I'd hear a good
American say that! Billy, you'll never run for office--"

Bowie held up a hand, cutting into Crockett's talk. "All right, Davey. Hold
up. You ain't runnin' for Congress now. Bill, the main thing I don't like
in your whole message is that part about victory or death. That's got to
go. Don't ask us to sell that to the troops!"

Travis closed his eyes briefly. "Boys, listen. We don't have to tell the
men about this. They don't need to know the real story until it's too late
for them to get out. And then we shall cover ourselves with such glory that
none of us shall ever be forgotten. Americans are the best fighters in the
world when they are trapped. They teach this in the Foot School back on the
Chatahoochee. And if we die, to die for one's country is sweet--"

"Hell with that," Crockett drawled. "I don't mind dyin', but not for these
big landowners like Jim Bowie here. I just been thinkin'--I don't own
nothing in Texas."

"I resent that," Bowie shouted. "You know very well I volunteered, after I
sent my wife off to Acapulco to be with her family." With an effort, he
calmed himself. "Look, Travis. I have some reputation as a fighting
man--you know I lived through the gang wars back home. It's obvious this
Alamo place is indefensible, even if we had a thousand men."

"But we must delay Santa Anna at all costs--"

Bowie took out a fine, dark Mexican cigar and whittled at it with his
blade. Then he lit it, saying around it, "All right, let's all calm down.
Nothing a group of good men can't settle around a table. Now listen. I got
in with this revolution at first because I thought old Emperor Iturbide
would listen to reason and lower taxes. But nothin's worked out, because
hot-heads like you, Travis, queered the deal. All this yammerin' about
liberty! Mexico is a Republic, under an Emperor, not some kind of
democracy, and we can't change that. Let's talk some sense before it's too
late. We're all too old and too smart to be wavin' the flag like it's the
Fourth of July. Sooner or later, we're goin' to have to sit down and talk
with the Mexicans. And like Davey said, I own a million hectares, and I've
always paid minimum wage, and my wife's folks are way up there in the
Imperial Government of the Republic of Mexico. That means I got influence
in all the votin' groups, includin' the American Immigrant, since I'm a
minority group member myself. I think I can talk to Santa Anna, and even to
old Iturbide. If we sign a treaty now with Santa Anna, acknowledge the law
of the land, I think our lives and property rights will be respected--" He
cocked an eye toward Crockett.

"Makes sense, Jim. That's the way we do it in Congress. Compromise,
everybody happy. We never allowed ourselves to be led nowhere we didn't
want to go, I can tell you! And Bill, you got to admit that we're in better
bargaining position if we're out in the open, than if old Santa Anna's got
us penned up in this old Alamo."

"Ord," Travis said despairingly. "Ord, you understand. Help me! Make them
listen!"

Ord moved into the candlelight, his lean face sweating. "Gentlemen, this is
all wrong! It doesn't happen this way--"

Crockett sneered, "Who asked you, Ord? I'll bet you ain't even got a poll
tax!"

Decisively, Bowie said, "We're free men, Travis, and we won't be led around
like cattle. How about it, Davey? Think you could handle the rear guard, if
we try to move out of here?"

"Hell, yes! Just so we're movin'!"

"O.K. Put it to a vote of the men outside. Do we stay, and maybe get
croaked, or do we fall back and conserve our strength until we need it?
Take care of it, eh, Davey?"

Crockett picked up his guitar and went outside.

Travis roared, "This is insubordination! Treason!" He drew his saber, but
Bowie took it from him and broke it in two. Then the big man pulled his
knife.

"Stay back, Ord. The Alamo isn't worth the bones of a Britainer, either."

"Colonel Bowie, please," Ord cried. "You don't understand! You _must_
defend the Alamo! This is the turning point in the winning of the west! If
Houston is beaten, Texas will never join the Union! There will be no
Mexican War. No California, no nation stretching from sea to shining sea!
This is the Americans' manifest destiny. You are the hope of the future ...
you will save the world from Hitler, from Bolshevism--"

"Crazy as a hoot owl," Bowie said sadly. "Ord, you and Travis got to look
at it both ways. We ain't all in the right in this war--we Americans got
our faults, too."

"But you are free men," Ord whispered. "Vulgar, opinionated, brutal--but
free! You are still better than any breed who kneels to tyranny--"

Crockett came in. "O.K., Jim."

"How'd it go?"

"Fifty-one per cent for hightailin' it right now."

Bowie smiled. "That's a flat majority. Let's make tracks."

"Comin', Bill?" Crockett asked. "You're O.K., but you just don't know how
to be one of the boys. You got to learn that no dog is better'n any other."

"No," Travis croaked hoarsely. "I stay. Stay or go, we shall all die like
dogs, anyway. Boys, for the last time! Don't reveal our weakness to the
enemy--"

"What weakness? We're stronger than them. Americans could whip the Mexicans
any day, if we wanted to. But the thing to do is make 'em talk, not fight.
So long, Bill."

The two big men stepped outside. In the night there was a sudden clatter of
hoofs as the Texans mounted and rode. From across the river came a brief
spatter of musket fire, then silence. In the dark, there had been no
difficulty in breaking through the Mexican lines.

Inside the chapel, John Ord's mouth hung slackly. He muttered, "Am I
insane? It didn't happen this way--it couldn't! The books can't be _that_
wrong--"

In the candlelight, Travis hung his head. "We tried, John. Perhaps it was a
forlorn hope at best. Even if we had defeated Santa Anna, or delayed him, I
do not think the Indian Nations would have let Houston get help from the
United States."

Ord continued his dazed muttering, hardly hearing.

"We need a contiguous frontier with Texas," Travis continued slowly, just
above a whisper. "But we Americans have never broken a treaty with the
Indians, and pray God we never shall. _We_ aren't like the Mexicans, always
pushing, always grabbing off New Mexico, Arizona, California. _We_ aren't
colonial oppressors, thank God! No, it wouldn't have worked out, even if we
American immigrants had secured our rights in Texas--" He lifted a short,
heavy, percussion pistol in his hand and cocked it. "I hate to say it, but
perhaps if we hadn't taken Payne and Jefferson so seriously--if we could
only have paid lip service, and done what we really wanted to do, in our
hearts ... no matter. I won't live to see our final disgrace."

He put the pistol to his head and blew out his brains.

Ord was still gibbering when the Mexican cavalry stormed into the old
mission, pulling down the flag and seizing him, dragging him before the
resplendent little general in green and gold.

Since he was the only prisoner, Santa Anna questioned Ord carefully. When
the sharp point of a bayonet had been thrust half an inch into his stomach,
the Britainer seemed to come around. When he started speaking, and the
Mexicans realized he was English, it went better with him. Ord was
obviously mad, it seemed to Santa Anna, but since he spoke English and
seemed educated, he could be useful. Santa Anna didn't mind the raving; he
understood all about Napoleon's detention camps and what they had done to
Britainers over there. In fact, Santa Anna was thinking of setting up a
couple of those camps himself. When they had milked Ord dry, they threw him
on a horse and took him along.

Thus John Ord had an excellent view of the battlefield when Santa Anna's
cannon broke the American lines south of the Trinity. Unable to get his men
across to safety, Sam Houston died leading the last, desperate charge
against the Mexican regulars. After that, the American survivors were too
tired to run from the cavalry that pinned them against the flooding river.
Most of them died there. Santa Anna expressed complete indifference to what
happened to the Texans' women and children.

Mexican soldiers found Jim Bowie hiding in a hut, wearing a plain linen
tunic and pretending to be a civilian. They would not have discovered his
identity had not some of the Texan women cried out, "Colonel Bowie--Colonel
Bowie!" as he was led into the Mexican camp.

He was hauled before Santa Anna, and Ord was summoned to watch. "Well, don
Jaime," Santa Anna remarked, "You have been a foolish man. I promised your
wife's uncle to send you to Acapulco safely, though of course your lands
are forfeit. You understand we must have lands for the veterans' program
when this campaign is over--" Santa Anna smiled then. "Besides, since Ord
here has told me how instrumental you were in the abandonment of the Alamo,
I think the Emperor will agree to mercy in your case. You know, don Jaime,
your compatriots had me worried back there. The Alamo might have been a
tough nut to crack ... _pues_, no matter."

And since Santa Anna had always been broadminded, not objecting to light
skin or immigrant background, he invited Bowie to dinner that night.

Santa Anna turned to Ord. "But if we could catch this rascally war
criminal, Crockett ... however, I fear he has escaped us. He slipped over
the river with a fake passport, and the Indians have interned him."

"Sí, _Señor Presidente_," Ord said dully.

"Please, don't call me that," Santa Anna cried, looking around. "True, many
of us officers have political ambitions, but Emperor Iturbide is old and
vain. It could mean my head--"

Suddenly, Ord's head was erect, and the old, clear light was in his blue
eyes. "Now I understand!" he shouted. "I thought Travis was raving back
there, before he shot himself--and your talk of the Emperor! American
respect for Indian rights! Jeffersonian form of government! Oh, those
ponces who peddled me that X-4-A--the _track jumper_! I'm not back in my
own past. I've jumped the time track--_I'm back in a screaming
alternate!_"

"Please, not so loud, _Señor_ Ord," Santa Anna sighed. "Now, we must shoot
a few more American officers, of course. I regret this, you understand, and
I shall no doubt be much criticized in French Canada and Russia, where
there are still civilized values. But we must establish the Republic of the
Empire once and for all upon this continent, that aristocratic tyranny
shall not perish from the earth. Of course, as an Englishman, you
understand perfectly, Señor Ord."

"Of course, excellency," Ord said.

"There are soft hearts--soft heads, I say--in Mexico who cry for civil
rights for the Americans. But I must make sure that Mexican dominance is
never again threatened north of the Rio Grande."

"_Seguro_, excellency," Ord said, suddenly. If the bloody X-4-A _had_
jumped the track, there was no getting back, none at all. He was stuck
here. Ord's blue eyes narrowed. "After all, it ... it is manifest destiny
that the Latin peoples of North America meet at the center of the
continent. Canada and Mexico shall share the Mississippi."

Santa Anna's dark eyes glowed. "You say what I have often thought. You are
a man of vision, and much sense. You realize the _Indios_ must go, whether
they were here first or not. I think I will make you my secretary, with the
rank of captain."

"_Gracias_, Excellency."

"Now, let us write my communique to the capital, _Capitán_ Ord. We must
describe how the American abandonment of the Alamo allowed me to press the
traitor Houston so closely he had no chance to maneuver his men into the
trap he sought. _Ay, Capitán_, it is a cardinal principle of the
Anglo-Saxons, to get themselves into a trap from which they must fight
their way out. This I never let them do, which is why I succeed where
others fail ... you said something, _Capitán_?"

"_Sí_, Excellency. I said, I shall title our communique: 'Remember the
Alamo,'" Ord said, standing at attention.

"_Bueno!_ You have a gift for words. Indeed, if ever we feel the _gringos_
are too much for us, your words shall once again remind us of the truth!"
Santa Anna smiled. "I think I shall make you a major. You have indeed
coined a phrase which shall live in history forever!"


timber had so much obstructed our march." But with the best of fortune,
at least five days must be spent in getting through this dreadful
fastness. Unfamiliar as they were with the route, the chances against
getting through at all were tenfold. "During these five days, too, we
have no chance of finding either grass or underwood for our horses, the
snow being so deep. To proceed, therefore, under such circumstances,
would be to hazard our being bewildered in the mountains, and to insure
the loss of our horses; even should we be so fortunate as to escape
with our lives, we might be obliged to abandon our papers and
collections. It was, therefore, decided not to venture any further; to
deposit here all the baggage and provisions for which we had no
immediate use; and, reserving only subsistence for a few days, to
return while our horses were yet strong to some spot where we might
live by hunting, till a guide could be procured to conduct us across
the mountains."

Just at that moment they were almost in despair. The next day two of
the best men turned back to the Nez Percé villages, to endeavor to
procure a guide, while the main party moved down toward the plains,
supporting life meagrely, waiting for something to turn up. They were
quite powerless until help of some kind should come to them.

To their infinite relief, the messengers returned in a few days,
bringing guides, who undertook to conduct the party to the Falls of the
Missouri, for which service they were to be recompensed by two guns.
Under their care a fresh start was made, and by nightfall of the 26th,
passing over a perilous trail, they had found a small bit of ground
from which the snow had melted, leaving exposed a growth of young
grass, where the horses had pasturage for the night.

"June 27th.... From this lofty spot we have a commanding view of the
surrounding mountains, which so completely enclose us that, though we
have once passed them [in the preceding September], we almost despair
of ever escaping from them without the assistance of the Indians....
Our guides traverse this trackless region with a kind of instinctive
sagacity; they never hesitate, they are never embarrassed; and so
undeviating is their step, that wherever the snow has disappeared, for
even a hundred paces, we find the summer road."

On the 29th they descended from the snowy mountains to the main branch
of the Kooskooskee, where they found the body of a deer that had been
left for them by the hunters, who were working in advance,--"a very
seasonable addition to our food; for having neither meat nor oil, we
were reduced to a diet of roots, without salt or any other addition."

The first day of July found them encamped at the mouth of Traveler's
Rest Creek, where all mountain trails converged. It was from this place
that Captain Clark's plan for a shorter route to the Falls of the
Missouri was to be put into execution. But that was not all that lay in
their minds.

"We now formed the following plan of operations: Captain Lewis, with
nine men, is to pursue the most direct route to the Falls of the
Missouri, where three of his party are to be left to prepare carriages
for transporting the baggage and canoes across the portage. With the
remaining six, he will ascend Maria's River to explore the country and
ascertain whether any branch of it reaches as far north as latitude
50°, after which he will descend that river to its mouth. The rest of
the men will accompany Captain Clark to the head of Jefferson River,
which Sergeant Ordway and a party of nine men will descend, with the
canoes and other articles deposited there. Captain Clark's party, which
will then be reduced to ten, will proceed to the Yellowstone, at its
nearest approach to the Three Forks of the Missouri. There he will
build canoes, go down that river with seven of his party, and wait at
its mouth till the rest of the party join him. Sergeant Pryor, with two
others, will then take the horses by land to the Mandans. From that
nation he will go to the British posts on the Assiniboin with a letter
to Mr. Henry, to procure his endeavors to prevail on some of the Sioux
chiefs to accompany him to Washington."

It is hard to understand that indomitable humor. Here they were, just
freed from imminent disaster, worn, half-starved, beggared, yet bobbing
up like corks from the depths, and forthwith making calm preparations
for fresh labors of a grave kind.

CHAPTER XI

RECROSSING THE DIVIDE

By the route made famous as Lewis and Clark's Pass, Captain Lewis's
party on July 7th recrossed the Great Divide that separates the
Atlantic from the Pacific, and upon the next day they again ate of the
flesh of the buffalo. On the 16th they were at the Falls of the
Missouri; and two days later they reached the mouth of Maria's River,
which they were to explore.

Ten days were spent in this exploration, until further progress was
stopped, on the 26th, by an encounter with a band of the dreaded
Minnetarees of Fort de Prairie, who had wrought such havoc among the
Shoshones,--a set of roving outlaws, who held a reign of terror over
all the tribes of the northwestern plains.

Captain Lewis determined to meet these folk as he had met all others.
He held a council with them, smoked the pipe of peace, and endeavored
to explain to them his mission. When night came, whites and Indians
camped together. Lewis knew that he must be on his guard, and had some
of his men remain awake throughout the night; but in the early dawn the
Minnetarees, catching the sentry unawares, stole the guns of the party
and tried to make off with them. A hand-to-hand fight followed. One of
the men, in struggling with an Indian and endeavoring to wrest a stolen
gun from him, killed him by a knife-thrust. The savages then attempted
to drive off the horses; but in this they were thwarted. Being hard
pressed, and one of their number shot by Captain Lewis's pistol, they
were forced to retreat, leaving twelve of their own horses behind. The
whites were the gainers, for they took away four of the captured
animals, while losing but one of their own. The Indians had also lost a
gun, shields, bows and arrows. Most of this stuff was burned; but about
the neck of the dead warrior, whose body remained upon the field,
Captain Lewis left a medal, "so that the Indians might know who we
were." The Minnetarees never forgot or forgave this meeting. For long
years afterward they nursed the thought of revenge, doing what they
could to obstruct settlement of the country.

This encounter made it necessary to stop further exploration of Maria's
River, and to retreat with all speed toward the Missouri, before the
Indians could recover, gather re-enforcements, and offer battle at
greater odds. It was not to be supposed that they would pass by the
shedding of their tribal blood without seeking immediate vengeance. The
explorers had a fair start, however, and after hard riding reached the
banks of the Missouri just in time to meet Sergeant Ordway's party
descending the river with the canoes and baggage that had been
recovered from the resting place on the Jefferson,--a fortunate
occurrence indeed. Reunited, the two parties hurried down the river at
a great rate, the rapid current aiding the oarsmen, and got out of the
way before the Minnetarees appeared.

On August 7th, after a day's cruise of eighty-three miles, they reached
the mouth of the Yellowstone, where they found a note that had been
left by Captain Clark, saying that he would await them a few miles
below. He waited for several days; but then, fearing that Lewis's party
had already passed, he moved forward, and the two commands were not
joined until the 12th.

In the mean time, after the separation at Traveler's Rest Creek,
Captain Clark's party, too, had found a new pass over the Continental
Divide,--a road 164 miles in length, suitable for wagon travel. July
8th they came to the spot upon Jefferson River where the canoes and
merchandise had been buried the summer before. The boats were raised
and loaded, and Sergeant Ordway and his men proceeded with them down
the river, while Captain Clark's party set out overland, with the
horses, to the Yellowstone. On this trip Captain Clark had an efficient
guide in Sacajawea, the "Bird Woman," who brought him to the
Yellowstone on the 15th, at the point where the river issues from the
mountains through its lower cañon. After traveling for four days along
the banks, they halted to build canoes, in which they made the passage
to the Missouri, a distance of eight hundred miles, reaching the
confluence on August 3d. Aside from the knowledge of the Yellowstone
country which was acquired, the only important event of the journey was
the loss of all the horses, which were stolen by prowling bands of
Indians. This was a serious loss; for they were depending upon the
horses for barter with the Mandans, in order to procure a supply of
corn for the journey to St. Louis. But there was no time for mourning.
The men went into camp at a short distance below the mouth of the
Yellowstone, where they occupied themselves, while waiting for Lewis's
party, in hunting and dressing skins, which they meant to offer to the
Mandans in exchange for needed stores.

While they were thus engaged, on the 11th they hailed a canoe passing
up stream, that contained two men who had come from the Illinois
country to hunt upon the Yellowstone. These were the first whites seen
since April 13, 1805, a period of sixteen months. As a matter of course
Clark was famished for news from the United States; but what he got
from the wanderers was not cheerful.

"These two men [who had left the Illinois in the summer of 1804] had
met the boat which we had dispatched from Fort Mandan, on board of
which, they were told, was a Ricara chief on his way to Washington; and
also another party of Yankton chiefs, accompanying Mr. Dorion on a
visit of the same kind. We were sorry to learn that the Mandans and
Minnetarees were at war with the Ricaras, and had killed two of them.
The Assiniboins too are at war with the Mandans. They have, in
consequence, prohibited the Northwestern Company from trading to the
Missouri, and even killed two of their traders near Mouse River; they
are now lying in wait for Mr. McKenzie of the Northwestern Company, who
had been for a long time among the Minnetarees. These appearances are
rather unfavorable to our project of carrying some of the chiefs to the
United States; but we still hope that, by effecting a peace between the
Mandans, Minnetarees, and Ricaras, the views of our government may be
accomplished."

This meant that the solemn treaties of peace concluded at Fort Mandan
amongst the several Indian tribes, under the auspices of the
expedition, had been broken. The news was displeasing, but probably not
wholly unexpected.

August 14th, two days after the reunion of the two parties, they came
again to the home of their acquaintances, the Mandans and the
Minnetarees. They showed these people every consideration; and the
swivel gun, which could not be used on the small boats, was presented
to old Le Borgne, who bore it in state to his lodge, thinking his own
thoughts. One of the Mandan chiefs joined them here for the journey
down the river.

Then occurred another brief conference with the Ricaras, with a renewal
of the old pledges of peace and good will toward all men--excepting the
Sioux. Reckless as they were in making promises, they, like all their
neighbors, weak or strong, would not commit themselves to attempting
conciliation of the Sioux.

CHAPTER XII

HOME

After leaving the Ricara villages, the men were possessed by an ardent
longing to get home; and the Missouri, as though it had learned to know
and respect and love them, and could appreciate their ardor, lent them
its best aid. Upon the swift current, and under pleasant skies, the
boats flew onward. Seventy-five or eighty miles a day was a common
achievement; but even that progress did not keep pace with the speed of
their desires. There was nothing more to be accomplished, no reason for
lingering by the way; and there was nothing to be guarded against,
except possible trouble with the Tetons. As the boats passed through
their country, these people appeared in large numbers upon the banks,
shouting invitations to land; but the officers felt safer in refusing
further intercourse. The Tetons were obliged to content themselves with
trotting along upon the shore, keeping abreast of the boats as well as
they were able, crying out taunts and imprecations; and one, more
zealous in his passion, went to the top of a hill and struck the earth
three times with the butt of his gun,--the registration of a mighty
oath against the whites, long since abundantly fulfilled.

Occasionally there was a meeting with a trading party from St. Louis or
elsewhere, with brief exchange of news and gossip; but they were
growing too eager for loitering. On the 9th of September they passed
the mouth of the Platte; and on the 12th they met one of their own men
who had been sent back with the batteau from Fort Mandan, in April,
1805. This man was now returning to the Ricaras, with a message from
President Jefferson, and an independent mission to instruct the Ricaras
in methods of agriculture. A few days later they met with one Captain
McClellan, an old acquaintance of Captain Clark, who told them that the
people of the United States had generally given them up for lost,
though the President still entertained hopes of their return.

"September 20th.... As we moved along rapidly we saw on the banks some
cows feeding, and the whole party almost involuntarily raised a shout
of joy at seeing this image of civilization and domestic life. Soon
after we reached the little French village of La Charette, which we
saluted with a discharge of four guns and three hearty cheers. We
landed, and were received with kindness by the inhabitants.... They
were all equally surprised and pleased at our arrival, for they had
long since abandoned all hopes of ever seeing us return."

The next day they came to the village of St. Charles; and on the 22d
they stopped at a cantonment of United States soldiery, three miles
above the mouth of the Missouri, where they passed the day. The
concluding paragraphs of the journals must be quoted literally from
Captain Clark:--

"September 23rd. Took an early brackfast with Colo Hunt and set out,
descended to the Mississippi and down that river to St. Louis at which
place we arived about 12 o'clock. We suffered the party to fire off
their pieces as a Salute to the Town. We were met by all the village
and received a harty welcom from its inhabitants &c here I found my old
acquaintance Maj W. Christy who had settled in this town in a public
line as a Tavern Keeper. He furnished us with storeroom for our baggage
and we accepted of the invitation of Mr. Peter Choteau and took a room
in his house. We payed a friendly visit to Mr. Auguste Choteau and some
of our old friends this evening. As the post had departed from St.
Louis Capt. Lewis wrote a note to Mr. Hay in Kahoka to detain the post
at that place until 12 tomorrow which was rather later than his usual
time of leaveing it.

"Wednesday 24th of September, 1806. I sleped but little last night
however we rose early and commenced wrighting our letters Capt. Lewis
wrote one to the presidend and I wrote Gov. Harrison and my friends in
Kentucky and sent off George Drewyer with those letters to Kohoka &
delivered them to Mr. Hays &c. We dined with Mr. Chotoux to day and
after dinner went to a store and purchased some clothes, which we gave
to a taylor and derected to be made. Capt. Lewis in opening his trunk
found all his papers wet and some seeds spoiled.

"Thursday 25th of Septr. 1806. had all our skins &c suned and stored
away in a storeroom of Mr. Caddy Choteau, payed some visits of form, to
the gentlemen of St. Louis, in the evening a dinner & Ball.

"Friday 26th of Septr. 1806. a fine morning we commenced wrighting,
&c."

That is the last word in the chronicles of the expedition,--modest,
unassuming, matter-of-fact--the word of one who had done a difficult
thing thoroughly and well, and who was at the end, as he had been
throughout, larger than the mere circumstances of his labor. His
companion was of the same stalwart stuff. It is hard to choose between
them in any essential detail of manhood. Nor were the officers much
exalted in temper above the men of their command. When we are
celebrating the heroes of our national life, every name upon the roster
of the Lewis and Clark Expedition deserves to be remembered.

In this brief narrative, we have just touched the hilltops of the
adventures of the expedition. Much of importance has been suggested
indirectly; much has been passed by altogether. Each day's work was
full of value and had a lasting significance.

One thing remains to be said. We must not forget that the undertaking
was not primarily one of adventure; it was an exploration, in the
broadest sense of the word. It was not the mere fact of getting across
the continent and back that gave the work its character, but the
observations that were made by the way. A book of this size would not
contain a bare catalogue of the deeds and discoveries of those
twenty-eight months; nor could any number of volumes do full justice to
their importance. Whoever reads the journals, from whatever point of
view, is amazed by what they reveal. Geographers, ethnologists,
botanists, geologists, Indian traders, and men of affairs, all are of
one mind upon this point. We must wait long before we find the work of
Lewis and Clark equaled.

CHAPTER XIII

AFTER LIFE

It would be a pleasant labor, and one well worth the pains, to record
the story of the later years of every one of those valiant souls, from
the highest to the lowest. But that may not be done here. The best
homage that can be rendered to the subordinates is to speak of their
common motive: simple-hearted, unselfish devotion to the interests of
the nation, unstained by ulterior hope of private gain. A bill was
passed by Congress in 1807, granting to the non-commissioned officers
and privates, according to rank, a sum of money equal to double pay for
the period of service, and, in addition, 300 acres of land from the
public domain. But nothing beyond ordinary pay had been definitely
pledged in advance. Clearly it was not the expectation of material
reward which sustained them.

The bill passed by Congress included also a grant of 1500 acres of land
to Captain Lewis, and of 1000 acres to Captain Clark. It is upon record
that Lewis, in the spirit which had regulated all of his relations with
Clark, objected to this discrimination in his favor.

In March, 1804, before the expedition set out, the newly acquired
Louisiana Territory was divided by Congress, the dividing line being
the 33d parallel. The southern portion was named the District of New
Orleans, and the northern, the District of Louisiana; this name being
changed, a year later, to Louisiana Territory.

On March 3d, 1807, Meriwether Lewis was made governor of this
territory, with headquarters at the village of St. Louis; and this
office he held until he died, October 11, 1809, at the age of
thirty-five years.

Although his service in this position was so untimely short, he did
much toward laying a firm foundation for the institutions of lawful and
orderly life. According to Mr. Jefferson, "he found the territory
distracted by feuds and contentions among the officers of the
government, and the people themselves divided by these into factions
and parties. He determined at once to take no side with either, but to
use every endeavor to conciliate and harmonize them. The even-handed
justice he administered to all soon established a respect for his
person and authority, and perseverance and time wore down animosities,
and reunited the citizens again into one family."

In the newly organized society, events rapidly took form. Governor
Lewis, with two others (judges of the court), constituted the
territorial legislature, which concerned itself at once with matters of
development,--providing for the establishment of towns, laying out
roads, etc. In 1808 the laws of Louisiana Territory were collected and
published, under the supervision of the legislature. This was the first
book printed in St. Louis. A post-office was established also in 1808,
and soon afterward the first newspaper appeared. From a mere frontier
trading settlement, whose conduct was regulated by untamed impulses,
St. Louis was being put in the way of its present greatness.

Aside from these purely administrative duties, the governor was further
occupied in endeavoring to secure permanent peace with the Indians, and
to prepare them for receiving the advantages of civilized life. This
was his largest thought, growing naturally out of all that he had seen
and done in the years preceding; and in it he was supported and
inspired by continued association with Captain Clark, who had been
appointed Indian agent for the territory. He had plenty to do; and in
such intervals as could be found, he was preparing for publication the
history of his travels.

The manner of his death is not exactly known. Although several writers
have given their best efforts to erasing what they seem to consider a
blot upon his reputation, the weight of opinion appears to sustain Mr.
Jefferson's statement that he committed suicide while affected by
hypochondria. Mr. Jefferson wrote in his memoir:--

    "Governor Lewis had from early life been subject to hypochondriac
    affections. It was a constitutional disposition in all the nearer
    branches of the family of his name, and was more immediately
    inherited by him from his father. They had not, however, been so
    strong as to give uneasiness to his family. While he lived with me
    in Washington I observed at times sensible depressions of mind;
    but, knowing their constitutional source, I estimated their course
    by what I had seen in the family. During his Western expedition,
    the constant exertion which that required of all the faculties of
    body and mind suspended these distressing affections; but after his
    establishment at St. Louis in sedentary occupations, they returned
    to him with redoubled vigor and began seriously to alarm his
    friends. He was in a paroxysm of one of these when his affairs
    rendered it necessary for him to go to Washington."

He proceeded upon this journey, and was crossing through Tennessee when
death overtook him, at the cabin of a backwoodsman where he had stopped
for the night. Some of the circumstances point to murder, others to
suicide; the truth is conjectural. What does it matter, after all? He
had lived largely; had done a man's work; he has a noble place in
history.

A better fortune was in store for Captain Clark. He was destined for
long and honorable service in public life, and a fair old age.

On the 12th of March, 1807, a few days following Captain Lewis's
appointment as governor of Louisiana Territory, Captain Clark was
commissioned by President Jefferson as brigadier-general of the
territorial militia, and as Indian agent. Dr. Coues says in his
excellent biographical sketch that "in those days this title was not
synonymous with 'thief,' and the position was one of honor, not to be
sought or used for dishonest purposes." Then William Clark was the man
for the place. Throughout his public life there is no stain of any sort
upon his name. With his strong, decisive, straightforward character,
which would not suffer him to yield a jot in his ideas of right and
wrong, he must have excited jealousies and made some enemies; but none
of these had the hardihood to speak against his integrity.

His best work was accomplished as Indian agent. In that position he was
in fact and in name the foster-father of all the tribes who lived in
the territory he had helped to explore. It devolved upon him to
acquaint the Indians with the nature and purposes of our government,
and to bring them into obedience to its laws. More than this, he had a
large task before him in endeavoring to reconcile the traditional
enmities of the tribes one against another. He succeeded well. He got
the confidence of the natives, and kept it; from fearing his power,
most of them came to revere the man. When all is said of the
Indians,--of their savage craft, their obliquity of moral vision, their
unsparing cruelty, and their utter remissness in most matters of
behavior, the fact remains that they know how to appreciate candor and
honor, and will respond to it as well as they are able. They are slow
to believe in wordy protestations: they must have signs more tangible.
They will not trust all men of white complexion merely because they
have found one trustworthy; each man must prove himself and stand for
himself. William Clark gave them a rare exhibition of upright,
downright manliness, and they learned to respect and love him. He was
soon celebrated from St. Louis to the Pacific, and was called by the
name "Red-Head." To this day, old men of the Rocky Mountain tribes
speak of him with fondness, saying that our government has never shown
another like him.

He was a man of iron; his was an iron rule. In that time, Indian
affairs were comparatively free from the modern bureaucratic control;
the agent devised and followed his own plans, unhampered by jealous
superiors. It has been said that Clark's office was that of an
autocrat, a condition too dangerous to be generally tolerated. Clark
was indeed an exception. The most absolute power could be intrusted to
him with implicit confidence that it would not be abused. The Indians
themselves, who were the most directly concerned, did not rebel against
his unbending authority. If he was stern, exacting the utmost, and
holding them to a strict accountability for violations of law, they
knew that his least word of promise was certain of fulfillment. They
did not find his rule too onerous under those conditions. While he held
sway, the Western Indian country was in an unequaled state of order and
decency.

Not the least of our debts to Captain Clark lies in the fact that it
was he who brought the journals of the great expedition to public view.
Captain Lewis had not been able to finish this work before his death;
most of the details of arrangement for publication fell to his
surviving companion, with the admirable editorial supervision of
Nicholas Biddle. It is often regretted that editorial revision of the
manuscripts was considered necessary; for what was thus gained
sometimes in clearness and brevity of statement was more than lost in
delicious naïveté. Mr. Biddle did his part thoroughly, sympathetically;
and it was he who succeeded in finding a publisher,--a matter hard to
accomplish in that time, troubled as it was with war and with political
and commercial uncertainty. The authentic history did not appear until
the year 1814.

Meanwhile, Captain Clark had passed to fresh honors. Following the
death of Governor Lewis, Benjamin Howard was appointed as his
successor. In 1812 the name of the territory was changed to Missouri;
and in 1813 Captain Clark was appointed by President Madison as its
governor. After being reappointed by Madison in 1816 and 1817, and by
Monroe in 1820, he surrendered his office upon the admission of
Missouri to statehood, when a governor was elected by vote of the
people. In 1822 he was named by President Monroe to be Superintendent
of Indian Affairs, and this post he held for sixteen years thereafter,
until his death.

He died as a man of his make would wish to die. He was sixty-eight
years of age, but still in harness and able to do his work. He passed
quietly away at the home of his eldest son, Meriwether Lewis Clark, in
St. Louis, on the first day of September, 1838.

_And they took of the fruit of the land in their hands, and brought
it down unto us, and brought us word again, and said, It is a good land
which the Lord our God doth give us._

The Riverside Press
_Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co._
_Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._