This was the pass――the great South Pass? They had halted upon an open swale between twain low rounded, smooth hills; behind them, the route which they had traversed, stretched a billowy sandy slope which was the ascent, but which Oliver had not recognized as such. “About the grade of Capitol Hill, from the Avenue, at Washington,” commented Lieutenant Frémont. “How is the other side――the same?” “About the same,” nodded Kit. “How runs the road to the Columbia――the remaining part of this Oregon Trail?” “At the foot of the pass thar’s the Little Sandy an’ the Big Sandy Rivers, an’ all flat desert clear to the Crossing o’ the Green River. Then it gets rougher from the Green west to the Bear an’ on northwest up the Bear to the Sody Springs. Then it air on westward and northward from the B’ar to Fort Hall at the Snake; west up along the Snake――or what some call the Lewis Ford o’ the Columbia――a two weeks’ march across the Plains o’ the Snake an’ a bad country beyond to Fort Boisé toward the mouth o’ the Snake; then it’s across the Blue Mountains, to the Columbia; an’ from thar it air ’bout two hundred miles to Vancouver, they say. As for myself, I’ve never been much west, on that trail, o’ Goose Creek between Hall and Boisé.” Gazing into the west, where hazy lay Oregon, Frémont’s blue eyes kindled and flashed. “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.