The fork was all open water, about thirty paces wide. Opposite, on the south side, there was a high, partly bare hill, out of gunshot.
The next morning, which was February 1, the lieutenant staked a plan of the fort, on the ground. Axes rang, spades scraped, picks thudded. As soon as the fort was far enough along so that it would stand an attack, a party should be sent back across the Great Snowy Mountains to get the other men and the horses.
"But what I'd like to know, is, what are we doin' on this side the main river?" queried Corporal Jerry, that night.
"To get at the big trees, and because 'tis the proper place for the fort," answered Sergeant Meek.
"Yes, maybe. But bein' as this is the Red River, we're on the Spanish side, ain't we? From all I hear, the Red River's the dividin' line betwixt the United States an' Mexico, an' we're across it into Mexican territory."
"That's not for you or me to say, my boy," Sergeant Meek retorted. "The cap'n has his orders, you can bet, and all we need do is to foller him. But sure, this is a fork, at the head-waters, and we're on the north side the fork. In a bit more we'll be starting on down, like as not keeping safe to our own
