THE BARRIER OF ROCK
After several adventures and misadventures, during a march of several
days to the southward, over a broken, hilly country, in which we lost
the Spanish trace, we came to the broad, shallow channel of the Arkansas
River. Here Lieutenant Wilkinson and a party consisting of Sergeant
Ballenger, four privates, and the two or three Osages who had continued
with us thus far, were detached to descend the river for the purpose of
exploring the unknown reaches of its lower course to its junction with
the Mississippi. A canoe was hewn out for them from the trunk of a
cottonwood tree, and another made of skins on a frame of branches, and
they set off bravely downstream, though the river was at the time
covered with drifting ice.
Having seen our companions embarked on their perilous voyage through the
almost unknown country to the southeast, we set off westward on our
ascent of the stream which they were descending. Despite a snowstorm and
the ice in the river, we crossed and recrossed the channel, until at
last we rediscovered the camps and trace of the Spaniards, which here
indicated a force of fully six hundred soldiers.
After this we marched steadily upstream, along the trace, for over two
weeks, despite the hindrance and annoyance resulting from the weakness
of the greater number of our horses, three or four of which had finally
to be abandoned. Unfortunately we lacked both the skill and the means to
replace the beasts from the herds of spirited wild horses which we
frequently saw interspersed among the great droves of buffaloes. Yet
despite the depletion of our pack train and the grim prospect of being
weather-bound for the Winter out on these bleak plains, we felt assured
that where the Spaniards had led the way we could follow, and so pushed
on into the wilderness, ever farther and farther from home and
civilization.
Since the second day after leaving the Pawnee Republic we had
encountered none of the savage habitants of the prairies. But now at
last we were again put on our guard by the discovery of occasional
Indian signs along the river banks. As a precaution against falling into
an ambuscade, Pike and I took to scouting some little distance in
advance of the party.
On the fifteenth of November, a day ever memorable to us, we were riding
along in this manner, when, two hours or so after noon, as we topped one
of the numerous hills, the Lieutenant abruptly drew rein and pointed off
to the right.
"Indians?" I demanded, looking to the priming of my rifle.
"No," he replied. "Wait."
At the sight of his levelled spyglass, I too stared off a little to
north of west, and at once made out what appeared to be a faint,
half-luminous point of cloud. Its color was a spectral silvery blue,
much like that of the moon when seen in the daytime. Before I could
utter the word that sprang to my lips, my friend forestalled me.
"'Tis a mountain!--the Mexican mountains, John!"
I caught the spyglass which he thrust out to me, and fixed it upon that
distant peak with burning eagerness. The Mexican mountains, the fabled
sierras of New Spain! Had we at last sighted the snowy crest of their
nearest peak? Was this one of that sierra of which Alisanda had spoken,
my Barrier of Rock, the Sangre de Cristo?
We rode on, too overcome to speak, held in throbbing suspense between
delight over our discovery and dread lest it should prove to be some
illusion of cloud and light. But within another two miles there came an
end to all doubt. Before us, from one of the higher hill-tops there
stretched out along the western horizon an enormous barrier of snowy
mountains, extending to the north and south farther than eye or glass
could see. My heart gave a great leap at that wonderful sight. In my
mind there was no longer the slightest doubt. I knew that before me
upreared the barrier that I must cross to reach my lady.
Not until the men came up with us and burst into cheers for the great
white mountains of Mexico did I rouse from my daydream of Alisanda.
Before me, as real as life, I had seen imaged her beautiful pale face,
with the scarlet lips parting from the pearly teeth, and the velvety
black eyes gazing at me full from beneath the edge of the veiling
mantilla. Such was the vision--whose reality I knew to be awaiting me
somewhere south and west, beyond that snowy sierra. I drew in a full
breath and joined in the loud cheering of my comrades.
While the air yet rang with the last of our wild cheers, our commander
faced about, with upraised hand, and called in resolute tones: "Men! we
have toiled, we have undergone dangers. We know not what dangers lie
before us: Winter is at hand; our horses are fast failing; we are
outfitted only for Summer travel. Yet what of all that? We have outfaced
the Pawnees; we have traversed this vast desert; we have held to the
track of the Spanish invaders of our territories. Before our eyes uprear
the unknown mountains of the West,--mountains upon which our countrymen
have never before set eyes; of which no American has ever heard, unless
it be the vague and misleading reports of the Spaniards. Men! we will
not turn back with the goal of our toilsome marches in view!"
"No! no! Lead us on, sir!" shouted Sergeant Meek, and every man caught
up the cry: "Lead us on, sir! lead us on! No turning back!"
Our commander flushed, and his blue eyes sparkled. "Ah, my brave men! I
was certain of your mettle! We will ascend these mountains; we will
explore the utmost boundaries of Louisiana; and if the Spaniards seek to
check us--"
"We'll raise a little dust, sir!" cried young Sparks, flourishing his
musket.
"Perhaps!" returned the Lieutenant, looking about at us with a shrewd
smile. "If it comes to that, they will not find us backward. But do not
count too much on hostilities. We are here, not to fight, but to explore
the limits of the Territory."
"But, sir, should we fall in with the Spaniards?" ventured Meek.
"Should we meet a Spanish party, we may be invited to go in with them to
Santa Fe. It would serve our purpose no little to be the guests of the
Spanish authorities. Enough. Fall in! By to-morrow night we should be
encamped at the foot of that grand peak."
He wheeled his horse about, and rode off again in front. I hastened to
join him, my thought intent upon a surmise drawn from his last speech.
When we had ridden ahead beyond earshot of the others, I put my thought
into words.
"Montgomery," I said, "you have other orders from General Wilkinson than
those given out. It is not I alone whose instructions are to attempt
communications with the Spaniards."
"And if your guess is right?" he asked.
"God forbid!" I cried.
"What! I see no cause for dismay in the simple fact that I am to further
your efforts to obtain information. I and the party will be in much less
danger from the Spanish authorities than yourself, John.
"It is not that," I muttered.
"What, then? I declare, John, there are times when I cannot bear the
thought of your venturing in among the Spaniards alone. It is now my
resolve to march into Santa Fe with you."
"No, no!" I protested. "You must not--cannot!"
"Cannot? Do you think I fear the danger?"
"Of death, no; but of dishonor."
"Dishonor! Should the Spanish dare--"
"No, not the Spaniards--not that. But our own people."
"Explain!" he demanded.
I opened my mouth to accuse his General--and paused. After all, what
proof had I of Wilkinson's connivance in the plans of Colonel Burr? What
proof had I that even Burr's plans were treasonable? I should have been
an outright imbecile to have entertained the slightest doubt of the
zealous loyalty and patriotism of my friend,--and Wilkinson was his
General and his patron. Why poison his mind against one who had shown
him great favors and was in a position as Commander-in-Chief to show him
even greater favors? We could not now hope to return to the Mississippi
settlements for several months. Why fill my friend's mind with anxieties
over plots and projects which might never develop, or which, even if
_not_ stillborn, might well be counted upon to reach maturity long
before we should have a chance to oppose them?
So, instead of Wilkinson's name, it was Burr's which passed my
hesitating lips; and in my account of the little I knew of the late
Vice-President's grand projects, I took care to omit the name of
Wilkinson. My companion listened with his usual seriousness, but at the
end smilingly shook his head, and declared that he believed the
Colonel's schemes were all based on pure speculation, and would end in
air. As I have stated, I could not tell him my reasons for suspecting
that his General had plotted with Burr. Yet this was the very crux of
the affair. It was evident, in my opinion, that at about the time of my
visit to him in Natchez Wilkinson had become frightened, and was rapidly
coming to the decision of withdrawing from Burr's projects. But
supposing he, the military chief of the army and the Governor of the
Upper Territory, should gain heart to cast in his fortunes with the
great plotter, would those projects then be so visionary?
My friend went on with an argument which proved only how little he
suspected any connection between our expedition and Burr's plot. He
explained at great length--to his own satisfaction, though not to
mine--that our secret instructions to spy upon the Spaniards related
only to the far-from-probable event of war between their country and our
own.
On his part, he then came at me with a shrewd inquiry as to my real
motive for volunteering with the expedition. I immediately confided to
him everything relating to my romance. There was now no reason why I
should hold back anything about Alisanda, and indeed I should have told
him all long before, had it not been that since our start from Belle
Fontaine we had never chanced to be alone together other than at times
when matters of great concern to ourselves or the expedition absorbed
our interest.
My confession won me, as I had foreseen, a most ardent ally. He listened
with all the joyful sympathy of one who has been happy in the love of a
true-hearted, beautiful wife.
"John! John! To think of it! All these months, and you never so much as
whispered a word! A senorita from Old Spain? Never fear!" He looked me
up and down with an air of severe appraisal. "She'll take you; she's
bound to take you!"
He went on with a list of reasons as long as my arm. There is nothing
like a friend to lay it on with regard to your good qualities, when he
is in the mood.
"Hold! hold!" I broke in on him. "Save that to tell to Senorita Vallois.
I'd rather you'd inform me as to how soon I'm to reach Santa Fe."
"That's the question," he replied. "We've first to round the headwaters
of this stream, then those of the Red River. Afterwards it is not
unlikely we can manage so to lose ourselves as to contrive to wander
into the midst of the Spanish settlements."
I stared glumly at the snowy peaks towering upon the western horizon.
"That may be months hence. We cannot travel fast among the mountains.
Why not strike first for Santa Fe?"
"The Spanish settlements must all lie to the southward of yonder grand
peak. Santa Fe is rumored to have a mild climate; hence it must lie to
the south of our present position," he argued. "Therefore we must first
explore the sources of the Arkansas. When we go south among the
Spaniards, there is no telling what they will do with us, but it is fair
to presume that they will at least do their best to check our
explorations."
"Very true," I assented. "Suppose, then, that I part company from you
here, and strike out to cross my barrier alone?"
"No!" he exclaimed.
"Why not?"
"You surely would perish. I could not spare you a horse. We shall need
all for the packs before the week is out. Without a horse, and alone,
you surely would perish, either in this bleak desert or among those
mountain wilds."
"Yet I am willing to chance it. I hoped to have crossed the barrier--to
have reached her side--before now."
"If not for your own sake, John, then for ours! You are the best shot
among us. Since Wilkinson left, you have in effect taken his place as
second in command. You know how highly the men regard you. Should aught
happen to me, you are the only one of our number capable of taking my
place and carrying out the various objects of the expedition."
"Meek is a fine soldier," I said.
"A good sergeant and a brave man--so brave that we could count upon him
to 'raise a little dust' at the first opportunity. He's brave to
rashness, but quite incapable of keeping notes, either of our route or
of the many scientific features which we are certain to encounter."
"Yet--to wait, it may be months longer!"
"We need you, John."
"Very well," I replied. I could not do other than give way to that
argument.
Such was the quenching of my newly aroused hopes. I should cross the
barrier to Alisanda; I vowed I would cross it, or die. But the attempt
must now wait until we had penetrated to the headwaters of the Arkansas;
until we had rounded the sources of the Red River,--if in truth we were
ever to find the unknown upper reaches of that stream; until we had
spent weeks, and it might be months, wandering about the snowy
wildernesses of these vast Western mountains.
It was a sickening prospect for my eager love to contemplate. Yet I
needed only the quiet words of my friend to realize what I already knew
in my heart. It was true what he said. I could be of service to my
comrades. There was my duty to them, if not my patriotism, to bind me to
their company. I could not have left them at the time, even though the
way to Santa Fe and on to Chihuahua had been an open highway before my
feet, and the season midspring.