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

“Le Grand Mont,” Baroney called it. “The Grand Peak.” And the men called it that, too.

“Sure, it can’t be more’n one day’s march now,” John Sparks declared, as from camp they eyed it again. “We can be there to-morrow at this time, with ease, in case those be the orders.”

In the sunset the mountain loomed vast, its base blue, but its top pinkish white. After everything else was shrouded in dusk, its top still shone.

“How high, d’ye think?” queried soldier Freegift Stout.

“Thray miles higher’n we be; mebbe four,” guessed Pat Smith.

“He’s a grand wan all right,” sighed Tom Dougherty. “Even a bur-rd wud nade an ixtra pair o’ wings to get atop him, I’m thinkin’.”

“No mortal man, or nothing else on two legs could do it, I reckon,” said John Brown. “Unless that be the cap’n himself.”

“American can,” Stub reminded, proudly.

“You’re right, boy,” soldier Terry Miller approved. “Under orders an American would come pretty close to filling the job.”