A cry of desperation broke from Lewis' mouth. He fumbled at his belt and drew his remaining pistol. Twice, he tried to cock it and failed. On the third try, he succeeded. He leveled the weapon at Walt, gripping his wrist with his free hand in an effort to keep the aim steady.

"Guide! Guide! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to—oh, God, the pain!"

The barrel swung away from Walt and against the temple of Captain Meriwether Lewis. A flash seared Walt's eyes as the report echoed through the clearing.

When his vision returned, the guide saw Lewis' body slumped on the ground, snow already beginning its work of hiding the dead.

Walt stood silent for a moment before raising his right hand and executing a crisp salute. It was fitting tribute to a military man who'd done his country—and all of humanity—another great service. He’d died again on October 11th.

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