“Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant. He gulped――the ragged, weather-worn soldier. “Excuse me, sir――’tis only a day’s march yonder, you say? You’ll be coming back, sir?” “If within human possibility, sergeant. But I must climb that mountain to its highest point, in order to make certain of our position and ascertain the trend of the various streams. We are near the sources of the Arkansaw, as is evident. Our instructions are to find the heads of the Arkansaw and the Red River, on our way to the Comanches.” “Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant. “That is all. Good-night.” “Good-night, sir. I make bold to wish you good luck, sir. I wish I might be going with you, sir.” “Thank you, sergeant.” The lieutenant sat up late, writing. In his buffalo-robe, Stub dreamed of to-morrow, and the Grand Peak. He had understood only part of the lieutenant’s long speech; but it was enough to understand that he was to be taken. IX A TRY AT THE “GRAND PEAK” Early in the morning the lieutenant set the men at work cutting down fourteen trees, for stockade logs. A stockade was a fort. This fort was to be only a pen, open on the river and five feet high on the three other sides. Soldiers John Brown and Terry Miller were the men chosen. That made a party of five. They all took only a blanket or robe apiece, and a little dried meat, besides their guns and Stub’s bow and arrows. They started horseback at one o’clock, to cross the river and travel up the north fork, for the Grand Peak. The men paused long enough to give three cheers, and wave their caps. “Bon voyage (Good journey),” Baroney called. “Good luck to yez.” “We’ll be lookin’ for you back.” “When ye get to the top, be lightin’ us a bonfire, Terry.” The lieutenant raised his hat, in reply. The doctor waved, the two soldiers and Stub waved. And the five splashed through the ice-cold water and left the eleven men under Sergeant Meek to build the fort.[B] [B] The fort was near present Pueblo, Colorado. Lieutenant Pike’s squad marched up the west side of Fountain Creek. According to the doctor, this was the twenty-fourth day of the month named November. By the morning light the Grand Peak, glistening white, had looked to be nearer than ever. The lieutenant was certain that a half-day’s march would bring them to its base; to-morrow they would climb it, and would be back in camp on the third day. Mile after mile they hastened, their eyes scanning the distance before. The route up along the small fork was gravelly and bare, except for clumps of sage brush, and the willows bordering the stream. In places they had to cross deep washes cut by the rains. Not a living thing was sighted, save rabbits and prairie-dogs and a few antelope. And the Grand Peak and the line of lesser peaks――some white, some steel-gray, waited. The sun sank low and lower, over their southern end. The Grand Peak grew bluer and colder, and the other mountains darkened.