When the next herd of buffalo were seen, the lieutenant ordered camp made, and sent hunters out to kill meat enough for several days. There might be no buffalo, farther on. It was a poor country. He himself did not hunt. He went up on a hill and drew pictures of the mountains, on a piece of paper.
Stub did not hunt, either; he was almost out of arrows. He followed Lieutenant Pike to the hill, and watched him. But the pictures were only crooked lines, like Indian pictures.
The lieutenant glanced aside at him, and smiled. His smile was sweet, when he did smile.
"Would you like to climb that big blue mountain?" he asked.
Stub had to think, a moment. The big blue mountain! Yes, big and blue it was—and white; and very far. The thunder spirit might live there. Winter lived there. Could anybody climb it? It never was out of sight, now, except at night (and it never was out of sight, for days and days afterward), but it seemed hard to reach."[1]
"Top?"
"Yes, clear to the top," smiled the lieutenant.
Stub's eyes widened; and he smiled also.
"Sure. No afraid, with you."
- ↑ This was the celebrated Pike's Peak, of Colorado, later named for Lieutenant Pike, first white man to tell about it.
