When Oliver sidled back to camp, trying to appear unconcerned, as befitted a mountain-man, suspicious pieces of fat meat already were laid out upon the snow in anticipation of the pot.
[XIX]
AT THE LAST GASP
Now was it the dawn of a sharp, clear winter morning, February 2, 1844, in the Frémont and Carson rude camp of one skin lodge and several tents, on the upper water of the Carson River, at the Nevada-California line. Oliver awakened early, under his buffalo-robe brought from Taos: awakened to the crackle of camp fire, the stir of stiff figures, and the sight of Jacob the colored youth hurrying with a tin cup of steaming coffee for the lieutenant in the skin lodge. Jacob always tried to do this—to get the coffee there before the lieutenant his master was dressed. He explained that such was the custom in the south: the members of the family had coffee served to them before they were up.
Oliver awakened to another knowledge. This was the day when the main range of the Sierras was to be assaulted. Everywhere the fresh snow lay deep and trackless; the eastern sky was pink, and about the white peaks of the Sierras, high and close in the west, the clouds were breaking into filaments.
Oliver tumbled out of his coverings. At a little distance the half-frozen horses and mules stood hunched, tails to the breeze, or were pawing for herbage. Kit Carson was up, Thomas Fitzpatrick was up, the Indian guide was up. He had not escaped. A glorious figure he made, as equipped with new moccasins and leggins, with trousers and a shirt, with blue and scarlet cloth and a large green blanket over all, he stood by a fire.
Lieutenant Frémont emerged in haste from the lodge, and nodded to the Indian—whereupon the Indian pointed to the vasty white pinnacles of the mountains, and with a grunt shook his head. The lieutenant paid no attention to such weak spirit. His voice vivified the camp, and all was hustle.
“Now for summer doings, boys,” encouraged Kit Carson, as after breakfast, with packs in place and every man resolved, the procession wended forth through the snow.
“Now for the Californy Valley an’ summer doings!” they answered.