But posterity should not forget the services which were rendered to the white race by Sacajawea.
Sacajawea, recovered from her illness, began to look for familiar landmarks.
Not until Sacajawea landed with her baby was tranquillity restored.
Sacajawea excitedly pointed to deserted wickiups and traces of fires.
Sacajawea, with her beautiful dress and a husband who sometimes carried the baby, was a new sort of mortal on this Pacific coast.
"We are coming to a country where the river has three forks," said Sacajawea.
We can see Sacajawea now, startled and expectant, her heart beating like a trip-hammer under her bodice, looking at Julia!
The whites had surprised them in their very citadel—led by Sacajawea.
Sacajawea, had no maps to study—she made maps, and roads have been built over her footsteps.
Sacajawea was only a woman, and a brave little woman at that.