John Clark Dialogue

“Lewis, how in the world are we going to survive this?” I ask in a worried whispered voice. His silence is even more troubling than anything he could say. The seconds tick by. How long have we been standing here? Seconds or minutes? Whatever it is, it seems like a lifetime and a half. “Please answer me sir,” I plead, “we are all growing anxious and sick. The men need food, food that isn’t there. I just…”
“I already know this,” he pauses. “Don’t you think I already know this? I’ll get back to you when I can, for now get back there and rest. You look sick. Like everyone in this dreaded expedition,” he says that last part in a mumble and presumes I do not hear. As I leave he sits down in a huff saying to himself,
“It is 1805. It is September.
Most men are too weak to go, but I volunteer reluctantly so that the hunters can be more than four.
“Thank you Richard, George, William, John, and James! These men should be rewarded, we do not have anything though, so our appreciation shall be your gift!” Clark said with a grin on his face. All of us know he is in as much pain as we are, but he always lifts us up through it. I am delighted that my name was called first. Clark is my role model.
The five of us start off with the remaining colt meat and the measly amount of berries we have. Both of which are not enough to supply five grown men for a day, much less three days. As we hunt the trees swaying indicate a breeze, but the scorching sun makes it so that the breeze is not present with us. The birds, chipmunks, and what we called the White-tailed jackrabbit could all be seen and heard, but no animals worth hunting made an appearance. Nobody spoke unless absolutely necessary. We all wanted to conserve our energy in order to not need as much food. This tactic was not effective, but it gave us comfort. The silence of our voices were interrupted by the growl of my stomach, so Will sat and