“What a country!” he said. “And there waits the trail. It’s a hard trail, Kit?”
“Right hard. These wagons ahead of us may get through to Fort Hall, but beyond Hall it’s hoss, mule an’ moccasins, nigh a thousand miles.”
“It’s a trail I’d like to try,” mused Frémont. “And it’s a country worth a bigger try. The United States has better claim to it than England has. England has her hunters there—we’ll have our farmers there; and the man who tills the soil is the man who wins the land. He produces, and stays; the trapper only consumes, and moves on.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” responded Kit Carson, slowly. “We trappers open the way—but that’s all. I’ve often thought that I’d go to farming, an’ I believe I will. Some o’ the mountain-men air at work already, in the Columbia country.”
“Well,” quoth the lieutenant, “we’ll have to see more of that country; this isn’t the end of the trail, yet, you know. But the South Pass is about the limit of my orders. However—en avant! We can camp at the west foot, on the Pacific side. I want to cross.”
[VIII]
PLANTING THE HIGHEST FLAG
It was the third day after the halt upon crossing of the South Pass; now in camp by a lake at the head of the New Fork of the Green River, northwest from the South Pass, the lieutenant had decided to climb the Wind River mountain-chain, to the northeast, and measure the highest peak.
Here in the grove of beech-trees amidst which the camp was located the lieutenant fortified by raising a breastwork of logs; in charge of this camp and corral he and Kit Carson left about half the company, under Baptiste Bernier of the Frémont party; and with the other half, provisioned by dried meat, maccaroni and coffee for two days, they set out.