The mountains were far, through Comanche country, maybe through Spanish country, perhaps into Utah country; and after that, what? Nobody had said. Winter was here, as if the Great Spirit were still angry. The men had shivered, this morning, in their thin clothes; but nobody had seemed to care. Young Chief Wilkinson, with a few men, was going one way, on an unknown trail; young Chief Pike, with the rest of the men, was going the other way, on another unknown trail. So, huzzah! To be an American one must be brave. VII “THE MOUNTAINS! THE MOUNTAINS!” The Spanish trail again! They struck it toward evening of the day after Lieutenant Wilkinson had left――and they struck it just in time, too. Snow was falling once more, and dusk was at hand. The trail came in from the north, and crossed the river. Lieutenant Pike ordered camp made. Then he and the doctor forded the river, through the floating ice, to see where the trail went on the other side. They returned in the dark. They had lost the trail, among the buffalo tracks, but were going to try again in the morning. “We’ll have to take Stub, and use his eyes, too,” said the doctor. This was another cold night. The snow had quit, after falling two inches deep. The horses groaned, where they were picketed to graze; before rolling themselves in their blankets and buffalo robes, on the ground, the men huddled about their fires. There were now thirteen soldiers, and Chief Pike, the doctor, Baroney and Stub. “Heap winter, b’gorry; eh?” spoke Pat Smith, to Stub, and holding his hands to the blaze. Stub gravely nodded. “Winter come soon,” he answered. “An’ aren’t ye cold, boy?” queried John Sparks. “In only your skin an’ a buff’lo robe?” “No cold,” Stub asserted. That was all the Pawnees wore. He was used to it. The day dawned clear. After eating, Sergeant Meek marched the men up along the river. With Lieutenant Pike and the doctor, Stub crossed to help find the Spanish trail. They had to break a way through the ice. The ice cut the horses’ legs, the stinging water splashed high, soaking moccasins and drenching the lieutenant and the doctor above the knees. The lieutenant wore thin blue cotton leggins――a sort of trousers called overalls; now these clung to him tightly. Stub rather preferred his own skin, for it shed water. The Spanish had camped over here. There were lots of horse sign showing through the snow, in a space of more than a mile. The Spanish seemed to have grown in numbers. It was an old camp, and the trail out of it had been flattened by buffalo tracks, and by the snows and rains. So they three――Lieutenant Pike, the doctor, and Stub――made circles, as they rode up river, to cut the trail farther on.