Spirit Lake by Shannon Manary

Author:Shannon Manary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud
Published: 2015-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

April 19, 1680

On this morning’s journey they came upon a place in the river where they started to cross. Michel and Antoine were the only two men who didn’t know how to swim. The Indians, seeing their plight, piggybacked them onto a couple of their bigger men and helped them cross while they struggled to keep their muskets and powder dry. Muskrat’s legs were paddling as fast as they could as he battled the current to try to stay close to his master.

They continued on the other side of the great river until they came across a tributary, which ran mostly due north. The Dakota stopped following the Mississippi and started the journey up this new river. The white men did their best to keep up with the tireless Sioux. They were in awe of the war party’s stamina. There was still some ice on the banks as they kept crossing the cold water to keep going north instead of following the bends in the river. The white men were being run ragged.

All the men occasionally got cut by the sharp ice, but the Dakota seemed unfazed. The same couldn’t be said of the explorers, especially the friar who was barefoot. The march went on from dawn till after dark every day. Once a day the Indians gave the white men a single piece of meat, the same amount they allowed themselves.

Occasionally one of the white men fell to the ground and stayed down for a while from exhaustion. This sign of weakness was unacceptable to the Dakota, so they lit the dead grass on fire to get the whites moving again. Even though this turned out to be an effective motivational tool the Dakota couldn’t travel as fast as they usually did.

At camp they let the explorers mingle again. While Michel took navigation readings, he asked Hennepin, “Louis, have you found out what the Indians intentions are?”

“No. The only thing I know is they call this the Spirit River.”

Antoine snickered and said, “Well, then, let’s call it the Rum River. That’s my favorite spirit.” The men all got a good laugh from that comment.

“I sure can use some right now!” Michel added. “Based on what the old chief said to you before Louis, we should be to their camp tomorrow.”

“You’re right. Another Indian confirmed this to me as well.”

Antoine interjected, “I guess that’s the day of reckoning. It’ll either be a joyous occasion, or our last day.”

“Stay confident Antoine,” Michel reassured him. “Remember that they respect bravery. We’ll be safe if we don’t show fear. How’s the old bastard treating you Louis?”

“Fine. It’s Aquipagetin’s men who bother me. They continually force me to march even when I’m exhausted. This forced march has been a hardship. Look at my feet. They’re torn to shreds.”

“Oh, my God, Louis! They look bad. Why is it that priests don’t wear shoes again?”

“It’s part of our penance. We need to feel the pain that Jesus felt.”

“Well, it looks like you’re really feeling it,” Antoine joked.

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