“Yes, sir.”
“Lower the flag and roll it up. It will not be hoisted again without my orders.”
“Sir?” Freegift stammered. And——
“Oh, no, sir! Not that! Not haul down the flag! Let us keep it flyin’, sir. We can do it.”
Those were the cries. The lieutenant lifted his hand.
“Silence. I thank you, men. This is not surrender. I have no thought of surrender. But we are not upon the Red River. We are upon the Rio del Norte, in Mexican territory, and in courtesy to that government I am lowering the flag of my own free-will. By building this stockade we have unwittingly trespassed.”[I]
[I] All the Rio Grande River which flows southward through south central Colorado into New Mexico was Spanish territory. The Lieutenant Pike party had crossed the Sangre de Cristo Range and had struck the Rio Grande near present Alamosa in the southern half of Colorado’s great San Luis Park or Valley. The largest of the White Mountains, on the east, was Sierra Blanca (“White Mountain” today), altitude 14,390 feet, ranking third among the peaks of the Rockies. From the camp at the river the Pike men had travelled south, and built their stockade about five miles up the Conejos (Rabbits) River, which enters the Rio Grande from the west. Did he know this to be the Rio Grande del Norte, or did he really think it to be the Red River? Why did he stop in what was certainly Spanish territory? Did he wish to be captured? Or did he only take a chance? Historians have puzzled over this ever since.
The men muttered; the two visiting officers sat uneasy; but Freegift lowered the flag, caught it in his arms, and with rather a black glance at the red cloaks folded it carefully.
“By thunder, when we raise it ag’in, it’ll stay,” he grumbled, as he went to stow it away.