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

Here matters again looked bad. The warriors frolicked, in spite of the chiefs. They were Grand Pawnees—sixty: a war party out to plunder the Padoucahs. But they had not found any Padoucahs; so this seemed a good chance to plunder somebody else, instead of returning home empty-handed.

The lieutenant’s face was red, as he angrily warded off the hands that clutched at his pistols and gun and horse’s bridle.

“Stand firm, men!” he called. “Don’t let loose of a thing—don’t let them get behind us!”

“Kape your distance, you red rascals!” rasped Tom Dougherty, as they hustled him about.

“Steady! Steady!” Sergeant Meek cautioned.

“By thunder, they’d like to strip us,” the doctor exclaimed.

Even Stub objected vigorously, in Pawnee. The Grand Pawnees were indeed rascals.

Guns were being cocked—click, click; several of the Pawnees, angry themselves, leveled bended bows. It was likely to be a fight between the sixteen Americans and the sixty Pawnees; and Stub sat alert, ready to pluck an arrow as quick as lightning.

“Guard those packs, men!” the lieutenant kept shouting.

But the two chiefs were working hard, shoving the warriors back, clearing a space. The head chief spoke to the lieutenant, and signed.