with melted snow, and given one pint of precious corn, each, brought this far from the Osage and the Republican Pawnee towns. For the camp there was plenty of deer meat, killed on the way, and one buffalo. It was to be the last big meal, through some days.
The Spanish trail had been weak, upon entering the valley. The lieutenant had rather feared that the sign was only that of a small scouting party. But farther in it had strengthened. Now at the camp it appeared to be a fairly well-trodden road, leading on northwest and probably over the next range of hills.
"The road to the Red River—hooray!" cheered Tom Dougherty. "Then down the Red River we'll go, out o' this cruel cowld, an' belike we'll be to Natchitoches an' the blessed war-rmth o' Louisiany long before spring."
