CHAPTER XXVIII AT LAST.

INTERESTING and thrilling as was the descent of the Columbia, a detailed description of the voyage of the little party of explorers would become monotonous. They were hardly ever out of sight of Indians, all of whom were friendly, although precautions had to be taken against many of them that were thieves and eager to steal anything upon which they could lay hands.

You need not be told that the Columbia is one of the most important rivers on our continent. The scenery in many places is picturesque, grand and inspiring. The boys felt that the sight was well worth the journey across the country. Their enjoyment increased day after day as they drew near the sea. Game was so abundant that they never lacked for food, and the Indians were always ready to share with them. At different times they saw natives who gave evidence of having met white men at the mouth of the Columbia. There were numbers of guns, civilized coats and trousers, brass buttons and various ornaments which could have been obtained from no one else, and, now and then, some intelligent Indian showed himself able to speak a few words of English.

One of the counties in the present State of Washington is Wahkiacum, which received its name from a tribe of Indians that have been extinct for years. Our friends paid a visit to a Wahkiacum village on the right bank of the river. After procuring some food and a beaver skin, the explorers climbed to the crest of an adjoining hill and with feelings of expectant wonder gazed to the westward.

At last! As the vision ranged over plain and wood and elevation they saw stretching away to the horizon the mightiest expanse of water on the globe. North, west, south, rolled the Pacific Ocean, extending at its widest part to more than one-third of the distance around the world.

No one spoke, but, grouped together, the spyglass was silently passed from one to the other, and each gazed in rapt admiration and awe. George first offered the instrument to Deerfoot, but he shook his head. He then handed it to Mul-tal-la, but he also declined, as did Victor, and then George leveled the instrument and held it for several minutes, while the others made the best use they could of their eyes. Finally George sighed and passed the glass to his brother. When he had finished he proffered it to the Shawanoe, but he indicated by a gesture that Mul-tal-la’s was the next turn.

At last Deerfoot, standing erect, with his gun leaning against a near boulder, where his companions had placed-their weapons, slowly directed the instrument westward, while all looked at him instead of at the ocean.

The Shawanoe’s eye roved over the immense expanse, as he gradually shifted his gaze from point to point. Over hundreds of square miles nothing was to be seen but the limitless waste of waters. Ridges of foam and a faint roar showed where the long swells broke upon the beach. From the tops of cone-like lodges climbed little twisting wreaths of smoke, indicating the villages of the dusky inhabitants of the region between the ocean and the spectators.

Deerfoot now descried something which the others had not seen. In a direct line to the westward and almost on the rim of the horizon was a tiny white object, like a peculiarly shaped cloud that would soon dissolve into thin air. It was a ship, and the snowy spread was its sails that caught the favoring breeze.

The vessel was many miles distant and heading for the mouth of the Columbia. It was the only vessel visible in that vast sweep of ocean. The Indian watched it as it gradually grew more distinct. He wondered as to the people on board, and speculated as to what part of the world they had come from. He finally lowered the instrument and peered in the direction without the artificial help. Yes; he could now see the vessel with the eye alone.

Pointing toward the right point he handed the glass to George Shelton and said:

“Let my brother look.”

The lad did so and the next moment exclaimed:

“It is a ship! Victor, you must see it!”

“I do,” replied the other, who nevertheless took the spyglass, which was next passed to Mul-tal-la. Then it went around in turn again, and the feast of vision was enjoyed to the full.

For an hour the party held their place on the elevation, studying the sea and the grand and varied panorama spread before them. They could have stayed all day and been content, for there was much that was impressive in the thought that they had reached the end of their long journey over mountain, through tangled wilderness and across prairie and river. Victor Shelton suggested that they should keep on down the Columbia to the mouth and take a bath in the chilling waters of the Pacific, but Deerfoot shook his head. It had been the understanding from the first that they were to press westward until they saw the ocean, but to go no farther. They had touched tidewater some time before, and could feel that at times they were really paddling through the waters of the Pacific. It would take several days to reach the mouth of the river and time had become valuable. The season was so far advanced that winter would be upon them by the time or before they arrived in the Blackfoot country, for a good deal of the return journey must, from its nature, prove much more laborious than the one just completed had been.

Deerfoot unexpectedly revealed one cause of anxiety. He was disquieted over Whirlwind, whom he had left with Amokeat, the Nez Perce chieftain. He could not free himself of the belief that trouble was to come from what he declared was a wrong act on his part. Had the stallion been only an ordinary “every day” animal, the owner would have felt no concern, but the steed was sure to be coveted by more than one warrior, and Amokeat could not have understood the worth of the treasure he had undertaken to guard and keep for the return of the owner.

“Deerfoot did not use Whirlwind right,” said the Shawanoe, shaking his head. “The heart of Whirlwind was grieved when he saw Deerfoot leave him.”

“But,” said Victor, sympathizing with the depression of his friend, “he is so wise a creature he surely understood why you left him.”

“Yes; he understood, and that is why his heart was sad, for he knew that Deerfoot had no right to treat him so.”

The Blackfoot now summed up the question by a remark with which the brothers ardently agreed.

“They will not kill Whirlwind, for they have no reason to do so. He will be alive somewhere; he will seek Deerfoot and Deerfoot will hunt for Whirlwind, and he will find him!”

The boys noted the flash in the eyes of the Shawanoe as he said:

“Yes; Deerfoot will find him if he has to hunt many moons and follow Whirlwind among tribes that are hundreds of miles away and who seek the life of Deerfoot.”

All understood the feelings of the youth who thus condemned himself for an act whose wisdom at the most was an open question.

Having uttered the words, the Shawanoe showed an indisposition to say anything further about the matter. He took the spyglass from the hands of George and once more pointed it at the incoming ship. He could make out the sails more plainly, and even caught the white rim of foam curling from the bow. He noted too that the wind was blowing briskly enough to make the vessel careen considerably under the impulse of the bellying canvas.

As it was still early in the day, it was evident the ship would be at the mouth of the river by nightfall. It would have been an interesting visit if the little party had pressed on and met the captain and his crew. It is not impossible, too, that had it not been for Deerfoot’s anxiety over his horse he would have modified the original plan to the extent of rounding out the journey across the continent by touching the Pacific itself.

But after all, what did it matter? The continent had already been crossed and, as the leader had said, the days and nights had become of the utmost value. Mul-tal-la believed it was safe to return to his people, and in point of fact he had grown homesick. Moreover, there was something in the fact that they were so many hundred miles from home that made George and Victor Shelton quite ready to give up the plan of going any farther.

And so our friends now turned their backs upon the Pacific and once more faced eastward. “Now for home!” was the thought in the minds of all four.

And here we must pause for the time. The incidents through which our friends passed and their adventures will be told in the final volume of the New Deerfoot Series, under the title of
“Deerfoot in the Mountains.”

The End