Lost with Lieutenant Pike / How from the Pawnee Village the boy named Scar Head marched with the young American Chief clear into the Snowy Mountains; how in the dead of winter they searched for the Lost River and thought that they had found it; and how the Spanish Soldiery came upon them and took them down to Santa Fé of New Mexico, where another surprise awaited them

by Edwin L. Sabin

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.”