“Part of them.” The lieutenant spoke crisply. “The doctor and Brown are still ahead, I think. I haven’t laid eyes on them. You three were next. The rest of the party is split. From the prairie back yonder I detached Baroney and two men to take the horses out, unpacked, and find a road for them. We have lost several animals by falls upon the rocks, and the others were unable to travel farther by river. The remaining eight men are coming on, two by two, each pair with a loaded sledge. I have preceded them, hoping to overtake you. The command is pretty well scattered out, but doing the best it can.” His tired eyes scanned Stub. “How are you, my brave lad?”
“All right, sir. But my name’s Jack Pursley, now. That knock I got made me remember.”
“What!”
“You see, sir,” Freegift explained in haste, and rather as if apologizing for Stub’s answer, “when he come to after that rap on the head he was sort o’ bewildered like; an’ ever since then he’s been claimin’ that he’s a white boy, name o’ Pursley, from Kaintuck, an’ was stole from his father, by the Injuns, up in that very Platte River country where we saw all them camp sign.”
“Oh!” uttered the lieutenant. “You were there? How many of you? All white? Where’s your father? How long ago?”
“About three years, I think,” Stub stammered. “Just we two, sir. We were hunting and trading on the plains, with some Kiowas and Comanches, and the Sioux drove us into the mountains. Then we joined the Utahs, and after a while they stole me. They hit me on the head and I forgot a lot of things—and I don’t know where my father is, sir.”
“Hah! I thought we were the first white men there,” ejaculated the lieutenant. “The first Americans, at least. It’s a pity you didn’t come to before. You might have given us valuable information.”
“He says they found gold in that Platte country, sir,” said Terry.
“Yes? Pshaw! But no matter now. We’ll pursue that subject later. First, we must get out of this canyon. You discovered no passage beyond?”
“No, sir. Never space to set a foot.”