I urged my men to utter no word at all, for none but Clark could
speak French, and he but poorly. For myself, my accent would pass
after these six years of practice. We came to a little river,
beyond which we could observe the Indians standing on guard. We
could only cross by wading, which we did; but one of my Provincials
came down, wetting his musket and himself thoroughly. Reaching the
shore, we marched together, I singing the refrain of an old French
song as we went,

En roulant, ma boule roulant,
En roulant, ma boule

so attracting the attention of the Indians. The better to deceive,
we all were now dressed in the costume of the French peasant--I had
taken pains to have Mr. Stevens secure these for us before starting;
a pair of homespun trousers, a coarse brown jacket, with thrums like
waving tassels, a silk handkerchief about the neck, and a strong
thick worsted wig on the head; no smart toupet, nor buckle; nor
combed, nor powdered; and all crowned by a dull black cap. I myself
was, as became my purpose, most like a small captain of militia,
doing wood service, and in the braver costume of the coureur de bois.

I signalled to the Indians, and, coming near, addressed them in
French. They were deceived, and presently, abreast of them, in the
midst of apparent ceremony, their firelocks were seized, and Mr.
Stevens and Clark had them safe. I said we must be satisfied as
to who they were, for English prisoners escaped from Quebec were
abroad, and no man could go unchallenged. They must at once lead me
to their camp. So they did, and at their bark wigwam they said they