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

“Utahs.”

“Where did they get you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Did White Wolf buy you from the Utahs?”

“He is my father.”

“You speak with crooked tongue,” the interpreter accused. “You are white. You are American. Who was your father?”

“White Wolf is my father. I am Pawnee. I will talk no more,” said Scar Head. “Let me alone.”

After that nobody bothered him, although they all eyed him. Why did they tell him that he was white? Did he wish to be white? Why should he be white, or American, when the Pawnee were a great people who could fight even the Padoucah—the Comanches or Ietans as they were called. And if one were white instead of red, it would be better to be Spanish, for the Spanish were rich and powerful, and their king owned the country.

Yet—yet, Scar Head could not help but admit that these Americans bore themselves like warriors; this Pike must be a bold young chief, to come so far with so few men; and after all, perhaps the Americans might prove strong in medicine. The Osages and the two Pawnee-who-had-been-to-Wash’ton spoke well of the nation.