seditious and mutinous; I then passed it over, pitying your situation
and laying your conduct to your distress from hunger, rather than to
desire to sow discontent amongst the party. Had I saved provisions for
ourselves, whilst you were starving,” reproached the lieutenant; “had
we been marching along light and at our ease, whilst you were weighed
down with your burden, then you would have had some excuse for your
remarks: but when we all were equally hungry, weary, worn, and charged
with burdens which I believe my natural strength is less able to bear
than any man’s in the party――when we are always foremost in breaking
the road, reconnoitering and enduring the fatigues of the chase, it
was the height of ingratitude in you to let an expression escape that
showed discontent. Your ready compliance and firm perseverance I had
reason to expect, as the leader of men who are my companions in misery
and danger. But your duty as a soldier (the young lieutenant’s voice
rang, and his eyes flashed) called on your obedience to your officer,
and a suppression of such language. However, for this time I will
pardon; but I assure you, should that ever be repeated, I will answer
your ingratitude and punish your disobedience by instant death.”
John Brown had shrunk and whitened.
“Yes, sir,” he faltered. “Thank you, sir. I’ll remember. It shan’t
happen again.”
“You may go.” The lieutenant’s eyes left Brown’s face and traveled
over the other men. “I take this opportunity,” he said, “likewise to
express to you, soldiers, generally, my thanks for your obedience,
perseverance, and ready contempt of every danger, which you have in
common shown. And I assure you that nothing shall be lacking on my part
to procure you the rewards of our Government and the gratitude of your
countrymen.”
“Three cheers for the cap’n, lads,” shouted Sergeant Meek. “Hooray,
now! Hooray! Hooray!”
“We’re with you to the end, sir!”
“We’re not complainin’, sir. No more is Brown.”
“You’re the leader, sir, and we’re proud to follow.”
“Sure, you an’ the doctor do the hard work.”
Thus they cried, bravely and huskily; for who could help loving this
stanch little officer, who asked no favors of rank, except to lead,
and who now stood before them, in his stained red fur-lined cap, his
wet, torn blanket-coat, his bedraggled thin blue trousers and soaked,
scuffed moccasins. He was all man.
He raised his hand. His face had flushed, his eyes had softened
moistly, and his lips quivered.
“That will do, lads. We understand each other, and I’m sure Brown will
not repeat his offense. For my part, I am determined that we shall not
move again without a supply of food. That imperils our success, and is
more than our duty would require of us.”
“Still, we might have made good, hadn’t we left the bulk of our meat
with Sparks and Dougherty, back yonder,” Freegift Stout remarked, to
the others in his mess. “That’s what pinched us.”
XVII
THE FORT IN THE WILDERNESS
Across the Great White Mountains at last!
That had proved to be not such a hard trip, after all, although
uncomfortable on account of the snow. First, the meat from the other
buffalo (three) had been brought into camp――had been sliced and the
strips hung on frames, to dry. There was a great quantity of it; more
than could be carried on foot. So Hugh Menaugh, whose frozen feet still
crippled him badly, was left to guard the extra amount, at this supply
depot; and, loaded well, the twelve others marched on.
The lieutenant and the doctor led into the mountains. Now was the time
to cross while the men had meat and felt strong. In spite of the snow
three feet deep they made fourteen miles, following the low places; and
at evening they were over――they had come upon a stream flowing west! It
surely was a feeder of the Red River!
Again they all cheered. But if they were over, they were not yet
through, for ahead they could see only the same bald or timbered swells
and ridges, snow-covered and still without end.
Near noon, the next day, the lieutenant and the doctor, in the advance
as usual, turned and gladly beckoned, and pointed before. They all
hastened. The signs were good――the brush had been flattened or cut off,
down a long draw, and the trees had been blazed and curiously painted
with rude figures. It was an Indian pass.
The lieutenant and the doctor had gone on. When the others arrived at
the spot, they saw.
“We’re coming out, boys!”
“We’ll be out before night!”
A separate, distant range of mountains might be sighted, through the
gap made by the blazed trail; and below, nearer, there was glimpse of
the low country, bordered on this side by bare sandy foothills of these
Great White Mountains themselves.
At sunset they were down and into the open, between the timbered slopes
and the rolling sand-hills. On the west, beyond the sand-hills there
appeared to be a wide valley; and beyond the valley that other range of
mountains.
Camp had to be made soon, here at the base of the Great White
Mountains. The lieutenant went out alone, to climb the sand-hills, for
a view. They could see him, a small figure, toiling up and standing, to
peer through his spy-glass. He came back in the dusk, but his face was
aglow.
“I have good news,” he announced. “We have won success. With the glass
I can see from those sand-hills a larger river coursing from northwest
to southeast through the valley beyond. There can be no doubt that it
is the Red River.”
They cheered and cheered, and ate with fine appetites. It was a happy
night. As Sergeant Meek said:
“Once there――and ’twon’t be long――we can send back for Menaugh, and
poor Sparks and Dougherty, and Baroney and Smith and the hosses; and
we’ll all be together again, ready for the march home.”
The sand-hills were five miles wide, and looked to be about fifteen
miles long. The river came down obliquely through the valley――which was
indeed a broad bottom of prairie-land; so they cut across at an angle,
and not until the second evening, after a day’s march of twenty-four
miles, did they reach the bank of the river itself, January 30.
It certainly was the Red River, issuing from the western mountains, and
here turning more southwardly, in the middle of the valley.
The valley was a wonderland. It lay flat, with little snow, full
fifty miles wide and in length almost farther than eye might say.
The mountains in the west were bald, snowy and grim. The Great White
Mountains on the east appeared to end opposite in a huge, dazzling
peak with three crests, but a lower range veered in, narrowing
the valley in the south. Afar in the north, the valley was closed
completely.
The bottoms were dotted with herds of deer, browsing on the thick dried
grasses. Many smaller streams joined the big river.
“Aye, ’tis a hunters’ paradise, this,” sighed Freegift Stout. “We’re in
a land o’ plenty. We can send back word that’ll gladden the hearts of
the boys behind.”
The lieutenant had decided to make a fortified camp, so as to have
protection from the Indians and perhaps from the Spanish while the men
behind were being sent for and boats were being built. He intended to
descend the Red River by boat and horse, both.
There was no timber at this spot. Some appeared lower along the river.
They marched for it――eighteen miles. The larger trees were across the
river; therefore the lieutenant led across, also, by way of the ice
and several islands. Then they came to another river, that looked like
a fork, entering from the west. About five miles from its mouth the
lieutenant found a good place. The fort should be here.
It was a small piece of level bottom, grown to cottonwood trees on
the north side of this west fork. The fork was all open water, about
thirty paces wide. Opposite, on the south side, there was a high,
partly bare hill, out of gunshot.
The next morning, which was February 1, the lieutenant staked a plan of
the fort, on the ground. Axes rang, spades scraped, picks thudded. As
soon as the fort was far enough along so that it would stand an attack,
a party should be sent back across the Great Snowy Mountains to get the
other men and the horses.
“But what I’d like to know, is, what are we doin’ on this side the main
river?” queried Corporal Jerry, that night.
“To get at the big trees, and because ’tis the proper place for the
fort,” answered Sergeant Meek.
“Yes, maybe. But bein’ as this is the Red River, we’re on the Spanish
side, ain’t we? From all I hear, the Red River’s the dividin’ line
betwixt the United States an’ Mexico, an’ we’re across it into Mexican
territory.”
“That’s not for you or me to say, my boy,” Sergeant Meek retorted. “The
cap’n has his orders, you can bet, and all we need do is to foller
him. But sure, this is a fork, at the head-waters, and we’re on the
north side the fork. In a bit more we’ll be starting on down, like as
not keeping safe to our own side again. And meanwhile if the Spanish
tackle us here, all the worse for ’em. Not the whole Spanish army could
budge us from this fort when it’s done. I wouldn’t mind having a dust
with ’em, for a change from shooting buff’lo and deer.”
“You’re right. A dust at real fightin’ would serve to pass the time,
sergeant,” the others cried. “Didn’t we foller ’em, an’ didn’t they
lead us wrong?”
“Or else we led ourselves wrong, mistaking Injun trail for white man
trail. At any rate, here we are; and as soon as the ice breaks――which
won’t be long――we’ll all be marching on, for home.”
The fort was to be a strong one. Lieutenant Pike, who took great pride
in it, explained the scheme, himself, to Stub.
“Thirty-six feet square, inside, fronting upon the river, where the
current is too deep to ford. Bastions (which were small block-houses)
at the two rear corners, to cover the walls on three sides. The walls,
six feet up, of large cottonwood logs two feet through. Smaller logs to
be laid for another six feet. A ditch will be dug all around, inside,
and sloped off toward the walls, for pickets to rest in. The pickets
will be sharpened and will slant two and one-half feet over the top of
the walls, like a fringe, so that nobody can climb in. All around,
outside, there will be a deep ditch four feet wide, and filled with
water. This is called a moat. We will cut a row of loopholes in the
walls, eight feet up; the men will stand upon platforms, to shoot
through. Our only entrance will be a hole, about the size of a man’s
body, low down, on the river side; and to use it, everybody will have
to crawl in or out on his stomach, and cross the big ditch by means of
a plank. There will be no roof; this is what is called a stockade. But
the men doubtless will construct shelters of brush.”
“You’ll be a soldier yet,” the doctor laughed, to Stub, overhearing the
explanation.
“Entrenched here we need have no fear of one hundred Spanish troops,”
the lieutenant remarked. “We could easily stand them off for a day or
two; then by a sally at night either disperse them, or make our escape
in the darkness, before our supplies were exhausted.”
“And Indians?”
“They would be less dangerous, unless they sent word to Santa Fe in
the south. We would endeavor to treat with them, which is one of the
purposes of the expedition.”
Jake Carter and Alex Roy were not able to do much, on account of
tender feet. The other men worked hard, building the stockade around
the American flag that had been planted on a pole, in the center. The
lieutenant and Doctor Robinson hunted and explored. Stub frequently
went with them, to help bring in the meat.
Once they discovered a group of springs, at the base of the hill south
of the fork and opposite the stockade. These were warm springs, and
strangely colored, brown and yellow. Their warm water was what kept the
fork open, clear to the main river and for some distance down below the
mouth of the fork.
They discovered also a well-traveled trail up along an eastern branch
of the main river, not far above the western fork. It was a horse
trail. Camps beside it showed that soldiers――probably Spanish――had used
it. So the Spanish came in here.
The lieutenant and the doctor talked considerably of Santa Fe, the
capital of New Mexico. It lay somewhere south. The lieutenant was
anxious to know more about it, so as to make report upon it to the
United States government. He could not leave the stockade, himself, but
the doctor arranged to go.
Evidently this had been the plan for some time. A trader by the name
of William Morrison, in the United States, had sent goods there, three
years ago, in charge of another man named Baptiste Lalande, to be sold.
But Lalande had never come back with the money. Doctor Robinson had
agreed with William Morrison to visit Santa Fe, if near there, and
collect the money. This would be an excuse for spying around.
At the end of the first week, when the stockade was partially finished,
the doctor left for Santa Fe. He set out westward, up the south bank
of the fork (which was the wrong direction, although none of them knew
it), and promised to return with his report in a week or ten days.
The men were not so certain about this. Sergeant Meek wagged his
grizzled head dubiously.
“Not to criticize a superior officer, but strikes me it’s a risky
move. The doctor’s pure grit, all right enough, to head alone through
a country full o’ Injun sign and Spanish sign to boot, and he’s like
to run his foot into a wolf trap. For if he gets there, them Spanish
will be curyus to know where he come from; and what’s to prevent their
back-trailing him? Oh, well; there’s something afoot that we don’t
understand. Our duty’s to obey orders, and if the lieutenant says for
us all to go to Santy Fee, go we will. But we’ll not go there by any
orders o’ the Spanish.”
This evening Corporal Jerry Jackson was started out, to get John Sparks
and Tom Dougherty, if he could, and also Hugh Menaugh, on the other
side of the mountains. He took with him Freegift Stout, William Gordon,
John Brown and John Mountjoy.
That left in the stockade only the lieutenant, Sergeant Meek, Terry
Miller, Jake Carter and Alex Roy (whose feet had been badly frozen),
and Stub. They missed the doctor, and Corporal Jerry’s squad, but could
get along for a few days.
This was February 7. No word might be expected from the doctor or
Corporal Jerry for at least a week. Nothing especial happened during
the week. The men and Stub kept on laboring at the stockade, the
lieutenant read in a French book a great deal, or hunted for deer,
taking Stub as companion.
By the sixteenth the walls of the stockade were about done, and the
inside ditch, for the pickets, was being pecked out――a slow job in the
frozen earth. Nine days had passed, and still there was no sign from
the doctor or Corporal Jerry. This morning the lieutenant and Stub
went out hunting again, down the main river. The lieutenant carried
his favorite musket――the one whose grip had been mended. Stub wore a
pistol, the mate to Hugh Menaugh’s, borrowed from the lieutenant.
They had tramped about six miles, had just wounded a deer and were
trailing it, when the lieutenant suddenly exclaimed:
“Halt. Be quiet. Somebody’s coming.”
Two strangers, horseback, were topping a rise, half a mile before and a
little on the right or west.
XVIII
VISITORS FROM THE SOUTH
“Not wild Indians; Spanish, rather,” mused the lieutenant, as, standing
motionless, he and Stub gazed. “Hah! They may be videttes (scouts) from
a large party, or they may be hunters like ourselves. We’ll turn back,
my boy; not from fear but to avoid trouble if possible.”
So they turned back, in the direction of the stockade. Glancing behind,
Stub saw the two horsemen descending the hill at a gallop.
“They’re coming, lieutenant. They’ve seen us.”
“The sound of our gun no doubt attracted them first. They seem to be
alone. Very well. They must not be permitted to think that we’re afraid
of them. Should they persist in coming on, we’ll face them.”
The two horsemen did come on, flourishing their lances as if in a
charge. They were closing the gap rapidly――were within gunshot, when
the lieutenant barked the brisk order:
“Now! Face about! We’ll show them the muzzles of our guns.”
They turned, and leveled musket and pistol. The two horsemen instantly
pulled their mounts short, whirled, and bending low scudded away. In a
short distance they halted, and sat waiting.
“We’ll advance on them,” quoth the lieutenant.
But the first few steps sent the pair scurrying in retreat again.
“All right,” said the lieutenant. “They respect our weapons and see we
do not fear theirs. Maybe they’ll let us take our way.”
However, when he and Stub proceeded on the trail for the stockade,
on came the two horsemen in another charge. The lieutenant ordered
a face-about――and away the two scampered, as before. This game was
repeated several times. The stockade was not in sight, and the
lieutenant was growing angry.
“We’ll make an end to this, Stub.” His face had flushed. “I do not
propose to be badgered. It is beneath the dignity of an American
officer and soldier to be toyed with in such child’s play. Pay no
further attention to them until we round that shoulder yonder. Then
we’ll slip into a ravine there and see if we can’t lure them to close
quarters that will bring them to account.”
It was back-tickling work, to trudge on, never turning, with those
lances threatening, closer and closer, behind. But the lieutenant gave
no sign――until, when around the shoulder and for a moment out of sight
by the pursuit, he sprang aside.
“Quick, now!”
They dived for cover and found it in a heap of large, brush-screened
rocks. They waited, peering and listening. Pretty soon they might hear
the hoofs of the horses. The two riders cantered into sight. They were
quite near. One was black-bearded――wore a large ribboned hat and blue
and red coat and leathern leggins, the same as Lieutenant Melgares’
soldiers had worn. He was a Spanish dragoon. He carried a lance, a
shield and short musketoon or escopeta hung at his saddle.
The other was dark, without whiskers: an Indian. He wore a blue cotton
shirt and leggins wrapped in white from moccasins to knees. His hair
fell in two braids. He, also, carried a lance and shield.
They saw nobody ahead of them, and began to move cautiously, craning,
and checking their horses. Little by little they came on. Now they were
within forty paces.
“This will do,” the lieutenant whispered. “We have them. Lay down your
pistol and stand up so they can see you’re unarmed. Then walk out.
I’ll follow and cover them. If they show sign of harm, I’ll fire upon
them instantly.”
Stub bravely stood into full view and spread his empty hands. He was
not afraid; not while Lieutenant Pike was backing him.
The two horsemen were completely surprised. They reined in and sat
poised and gawking, on the verge of flight. But the lieutenant’s gun
muzzle held them fast, while Stub walked toward them, his hand up in
the peace sign. The lieutenant called:
“Amigos (Friends)! Americanos (Americans)!” And he must have beckoned,
for the two timidly edged forward, ready to run or to fight. Evidently
they would rather run.
The lieutenant advanced also, and joined Stub.
“Take your pistol. Here it is. We’ll talk with them. Do you know
Spanish?”
“I’ve forgotten,” Stub stammered.
“We’ll manage with signs and the few words we do know. At the same time
we must stand prepared to fire.”
“Where are you from?” he queried sharply, in French.
The dragoon seemed to understand.
“From Santa Fe, señor.”
“How far is Santa Fe?”
“Three days as we come, señor.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We hunt.”
They got off their horses, and led them in nearer; then they smiled
friendly, and sat down and rolled themselves smokes. The lieutenant and
Stub warily sat down, opposite. It was a little council. Stub eyed the
Indian. He was a tame Indian――one of the house-building Indians from
the south: a Pueblo.
“What do you hunt?” asked Lieutenant Pike.
“Game, señor. Do you hunt, also?”
“We travel down the Red River, to the American fort of Natchitoches.”
“Another stranger has arrived, in Santa Fe. His name is Robinson. He is
an American. The governor received him well. He comes from your party?”
“There is no such man in my party,” the lieutenant answered; which was
true, now.
Presently he arose. It was difficult talking by signs and short words.
“A Díos, señores. A pleasant journey to you.”
“One moment, señor,” begged the dragoon. “Where is your camp?”
“It is far; we have several camps. So good-by.”
He and Stub started on. But the dragoon and the Indian mounted their
horses and followed. They were determined to find the camp.
“They are spies,” said the lieutenant. “We cannot get rid of them
without trouble, and I have orders to avoid trouble. We shall have to
take them in.”
So he and Stub waited, and it was just as well, for soon the regular
trail up river to the stockade was reached; the two horsemen struck
into it, and forged ahead, peering eagerly. The trail crossed the fork
above the stockade――and the first thing the two horsemen knew they were
stopped in short order by Alex Roy who was posted as sentinel.
That astonished them again. They could just glimpse the stockade, they
heard Alex challenge them, and saw his gun――and ducking and dodging
they raced back, to the lieutenant.
“Do not fear. Come,” he spoke.
He led them on; they left their horses outside, and, still frightened,
followed him and Stub through an opening in the stockade, which was
being used until the ditch and the hole were ready.
They stayed all that day. The men had orders to watch them, but not to
talk with them. They stared about as much as they could. They asked
several times where the Americans’ horses were, and how many men the
lieutenant had. Lieutenant Pike said that these were only a part of
his men, and that he had marched without horses, through the snow. He
was going down the Red River, holding councils with the Indians on the
borders of the United States. If the governor at Santa Fe would send
somebody who spoke good French or English, he would explain everything.
The dragoon and the Pueblo did not believe; and when they rode away in
the morning they were as suspicious as ever. They said they would be
in Santa Fe in two days with the lieutenant’s message to the governor,
whose name was Don Joaquin del Real Alencaster. The lieutenant had
given them a few presents, which appeared to please them. The Pueblo
gave the lieutenant some deer meat, part of a goose, a sack of meal and
pieces of flat, hard-baked bread.
Everybody was glad to see them go, but――――
“It’s an ill wind that brought ’em,” Sergeant Meek remarked. “Not
blaming him or the cap’n, the doctor did it. To be sure the Spanish
would set out to s’arch the country. Unless I’m mistaken, we’ll see
more of ’em.”
The lieutenant thought the same. He ordered that the work of finishing
the stockade be rushed, and even lent a hand himself. He had no idea
of leaving until Hugh, and John Sparks and Tom, across the mountains,
and Baroney and Pat Smith, on the Arkansaw with the horses, had been
brought in.
It was high time that Corporal Jerry and party turned up. They had been
gone a long while, and were needed. Five men and a boy were a small
garrison. This evening Corporal Jerry, with John Brown, William Gordon
and John Mountjoy, did arrive. After he had reported to the lieutenant,
he told his story to the rest of them.
“Yes, we found Hugh, but we had to cross in snow middle deep, to do it.
He’s comin’ on with Freegift. They’ll be down to-morrow. We went back
to Sparks an’ Dougherty, too.”
“How are they?”
“Bad off. Ah, boys, ’twould melt your hearts to see ’em. They sheer
wept when we hailed ’em. They’ve got food enough yet, even after the
near two months; but they can scarce walk a step. Their feet are gone,
an’ they’ve hardly a finger between ’em. So we couldn’t move ’em; not
through the snow of the passes. We did what we could to cheer ’em up,
but when we left they acted like they never expected to see us again.
Yes; an’ they sent over bones from their feet, for the cap’n, an’ made
me promise to give ’em to him as a token an’ to beg him, by all that’s
sacred, not to let the two of ’em die like beasts, alone in the wilds.
When I gave him the bones an’ told him, he turned white an’ his eyes
filled up. ‘They should know me better than that,’ said he. ‘Never
would I abandon them. To restore them to their homes and their country
again I’d carry the end of a litter, myself, through snow and mountains
for months.’”
“He’d do it,” asserted Sergeant Meek. “And so would any of us. Bones
from their feet, is it? Who but a soldier would lose the smallest joint
for such a pittance of pay, even to serve his country? Surely the
Government won’t lose sight o’ men like poor John and Tom.”
The lieutenant took prompt measures. The news from the back trail had
affected him sorely. This same evening he approached the men who were
sitting around the fire. They sprang up, to attention.