called St. Louis in honor of the King of France. Their grandfather, David Armstrong, still lived, as did also his wife, hale and hearty, enjoying the increasing households of their children.

Bob and Sandy had both married, and besides Dick there was a smaller son, named Sam in the cabin of the former. Roger had a little sister, called Mary, in honor of her grandmother.

The two cousins had grown up, as did most lads of those early days, accustomed to think for themselves, and to meet danger bravely. Both of them were accomplished in all the arts known to successful woodsmen. They learned from experience, as well as from the lips of old borderers who visited in their homes, and were able to hold their own with any boys of their age in the community.

A sudden calamity threatened to disturb the peace of the Armstrong circle, when it was learned that there was a flaw in the deed by which their property was held. An important signature was required in order to perfect this title, and, unless this could be obtained, and shown by the succeeding spring, everything would pass into the possession of a rich and unscrupulous French Indian trader, François Lascelles by name.

Inquiry developed the fact that Jasper Williams, the man whose signature was so important to the happiness of all the Armstrongs, had gone with the expedition undertaken by Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, which was headed into the unknown country of the Setting Sun, with the hope of finding a way to the far distant Pacific Ocean.

No white man had as yet crossed the vast stretches of country that lay west of the rolling Mississippi, and it was the boldest undertaking ever known when President Jefferson influenced Congress to stand back of his proposition to learn the extent of the possessions that had recently come to the United States. (Note 1.)[1]

The President’s private secretary, Captain Lewis, headed the small party of adventurous spirits, assisted by an army officer, Captain Clark. They left St. Louis in the spring of 1804, and had been long on the way when the Armstrongs discovered that the one man whom they could depend on to save their homes was with the expedition.

Ordinarily Bob and Sandy Armstrong would have been quick to take upon themselves the duty of overtaking the expedition, and securing the necessary signature; but a recent injury prevented one of the brothers from going.

In the end the proposition of Dick and Roger to undertake the stupendous task was agreed to, and the boys started, mounted on two horses and equipped as well as the times permitted. The adventures they met with were thrilling in the extreme, and have been described at length in earlier volumes.[2]

The youths overtook the expedition after it had gone far up the “Great Muddy,” as the Missouri had already become known, and the coveted signature was obtained. Then the lads were tempted to continue with the party, since Captain Lewis was sending back one of his most trusted scouts with an account of what had already happened to the expedition, for the perusal of President Jefferson; and he could be trusted to see that the precious document reached the Armstrongs.

During the winter just passed the two boys were kept busy in the rôle of scouts and providers of fresh meat for the camp, a duty which their early training made them peculiarly fitted to assume.

The expedition had laid out a comfortable camp near the Indian village of the Mandan tribe, with whom peaceful relations had been established at the time of their first arrival in the neighborhood.

Some of the bolder spirits had ventured into the realm of natural wonders now known as Yellowstone Park, and had viewed with amazement and awe the strange geysers that spouted hot water hundreds of feet in the air at stated periods, as well as many other singular mysteries.

Dick and Roger had been among the fortunate few to view these marvels; but, as a rule, the soldiers and bordermen associated with the two captains were almost as superstitious as the ignorant red men, and actually feared to set eyes on these strange freaks of Nature which they could not understand. The Indians called the place the Bad Lands, and believed an evil Manitou dwelt there, who was ever ready to seize upon and enchain those reckless warriors who should invade his territory.

Slowly the long winter had passed away, and all seemed to be going well. There had been occasional signs of trouble, when hostile hunting parties of Indians were encountered; but, thus far, none of the expedition had been more than wounded in these frays.

Spring was at last at hand, and every one in the party looked forward with eagerness to the fresh start that was soon to be made. They had gathered much information concerning the vast stretch of plains and mountains that still lay between them and their goal; but, since only Indians had ever penetrated that wilderness, these stories were invariably untrustworthy, for the mind of the red man was very much like that of a child, and could see things only from an imaginative standpoint.

About all that the adventurers really knew was that there was a tremendous barrier of mountains which they must climb before they could hope to attain their ambitious aim and gaze upon the Pacific Ocean, seen at that time only by those, following Balboa, who had crossed the narrow isthmus where the Panama Canal now joins the rival oceans.

Every evening, when the sun was setting in a maze of glowing colors, Dick and Roger were accustomed to stand and watch until the last fiery finger had finally faded from the skies. To them that mysterious West held out beckoning arms. They never tired of talking about the fresh wonders they might gaze upon once they started into the trackless wilds; and their young souls were aflame with eagerness as the days crept along, each one bringing them closer to the hour of departure.

For some time they had intended to take a canoe through the big rapids of the river, which they had passed in ascending the stream, before making the winter camp. From the Indians they had secured all possible information, and finally, knowing that their time here was now short, they had set forth with the canoe that had been their property for months, bent upon undertaking the rather risky voyage.

If the daring canoe-man knows his course, the passing through a rapid, amidst all the foam and rush of hungry waters, is not the perilous thing it seems. Besides a knowledge of the way, all that is required is a bold heart, a quick eye, a stout paddle, and muscular arms to wield it.

The two lads soon entered the upper stretches of the white-capped water. They quickly picked out their course, and found themselves shooting downward with almost incredible speed. Around them on every hand was boiling, tumultuous water, curling and rushing and leaping as though eager to seize upon its prey.

Dick and his cousin were not at all dismayed. They had rubbed up against perils so often in their young lives that they could keep cool in the face of almost any danger. Roger crouched in the bow and fended off from the rocks, so that the glancing blows the boat received