George at the Fort Part 7

"Halt!" cried Bristow again. It was so dark in the pa.s.sage-way that he could not see the troopers, but the sound of their footsteps told him that they were still advancing toward the dug-out. "That's twice," he continued. "If I have to halt you the third time, I'll send a bullet out there."

"Bristow, you had better not try that," answered Bob, without the least tremor in his voice. "You have already done more than you will want to stand punishment for. Besides, I have got you covered, and if you move that carbine a hair's breadth you are a gone deserter."

"And I've got the drop on you, Sandy," said Carey, thrusting his c.o.c.ked revolver over Bob's shoulder, "so don't wink.--I say, corporal," he added in a whisper, "I don't see Talbot anywhere."

"Neither do I," answered Bob. "Keep your eyes open, for he may be up to playing us some trick."

Whether it was the cool determination exhibited by Bob and his men, or the consciousness that they were in the wrong that took all the fight out of the deserters, we cannot tell; but they were cowed by something, and when Corporal Owens and his troopers filed into the dug-out, and the former sternly commanded them to "throw up," every carbine was dropped to the ground and five pairs of hands were raised in the air.

"Where's the other?" demanded Bob. "There ought to be six of you."

"Here I am," said a faint voice.

Bob looked in the direction from which the voice came, and saw Talbot sitting in a dark corner, his carbine lying by his side and both his hands raised above his head. He wore a handkerchief around his forehead, and, dim as the light was, Bob could see that it was streaked with blood.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked with some anxiety.

"No, he isn't," exclaimed Bristow, before the wounded man could speak.

"A glancing ball cut a little crease in his scalp, and he thinks he is killed."

"I wish you had this little crease in your own scalp," said Talbot, looking savagely at Bristow. "If it hadn't been for you I never should have been here."

"And if it hadn't been for _you_, and a few cowards just like you, we never should have been captured," retorted Bristow. "We could have held our own against a squad four times as big as the one Owens has brought with him; but now--"

"That'll do," interrupted Bob. "I am not going to have any quarrelling here; and, Bristow, there's a court-martial coming, and you had better keep a quiet tongue in your head.--Carey, stand in the mouth of that pa.s.sage-way.--Phillips, pick up the carbines, and the rest of you sound them."

These orders were promptly obeyed, and when the "sounding" had been completed the deserters had not even a pocket-knife left.

"Now, boys," continued Bob, "as you seem to like these quarters so well, you can stay here to-night--all except you, Talbot; you will come up and have your wound examined. We didn't come prepared to take care of injured men, but we will do the best we can for you.--We will get some supper for you men, and when you feel so inclined you can spread your blankets on the floor and go to sleep.--Go on, Carey."

At a sign from Bob the troopers followed Carey, who led the way along the pa.s.sage; then Talbot fell in, carrying his blanket over his shoulder, and Bob brought up the rear. The trap-door was shut, and Talbot was informed that the sleeping-room was to be his prison for the night. His wound was dressed with some cold coffee that Bob happened to have in his canteen, and the deserter was a.s.sured that there was no cause for apprehension. The wound, which was scarcely an inch long, was only skin-deep, but it bled profusely, and that was probably the reason why Talbot was so badly frightened. When two sentries had been posted--one at the door of the stable to keep an eye on Talbot, and the other at the dug-out to see that the deserters who were confined there did not attempt to work their way out during the night--Bob ordered supper to be served at once. He had performed a brave act, and now that the danger was over he began to realize that he had pa.s.sed through something of an ordeal. He lifted his cap, and found that his forehead was covered with great drops of perspiration.

"You have done well," said Carey, extending his hand to Bob when the latter came out of the sleeping-room. "I didn't know you had so much pluck. I shall take particular pains to see that the lieutenant hears of this day's work."

"He will tell you that I did nothing but my duty," replied Bob, who was very glad to know that his men were satisfied with his conduct.

"But it isn't everybody who is brave enough to do his duty," said Carey as he touched a match to the light-wood he had piled in the fireplace; "and perhaps the lieutenant will say that you ought to be a sergeant.

That _was_ Bryant back there in that squatter's cabin, wasn't it? I looked for him the minute we entered the dug-out."

"So did I," answered Bob, "and I saw at a glance that he wasn't there.

We will attend to him to-morrow."

"But perhaps he won't be there."

"I think he will. It is my opinion that he has hired out to that squatter, and that he intends to trust to disguise to escape recognition. A man in citizen's clothes doesn't look much like the same man in uniform; did you ever notice that? But even if he isn't there, what odds does it make to us? We are having a good time, and I would just as soon stay out here on the plains for a week or ten days as to go back to the fort and drill."

"I say, corporal," exclaimed the sentry who was stationed at the door, "here's somebody coming, and unless my eyes are going back on me he is dressed in uniform."

"Who in the world can it be?" exclaimed Carey.

"We'll soon find out," replied Bob, "for if he has got any of our uncle's clothes on we are bound to take him in, unless he proves to be an officer."

Bob and his men hurried to the door, and, looking in the direction in which the sentry was gazing, saw a horseman about a quarter of a mile away. He had halted on the top of a ridge, and Loring, who had good "Plains eyes," declared that he was looking at them through a field-gla.s.s. He certainly was dressed in uniform, and had with him a small black mule which bore a good-sized pack on its back.

"I can't make him out," said Bob, waving his hand in the air and beckoning the horseman to approach. "He is a soldier, but what is he doing with that pack-mule? It isn't Bryant, is it? If it is, where did he get that mule and that field-gla.s.s?--Loring, you and Phillips put the bridles on your horses--never mind the saddles--and stand by to give him a race if he tries to run away. Don't mount until I give the word."

But the horseman had no intention of running away. He replied to Bob's signal by waving his hand over his head, and after putting away his field-gla.s.s rode down the ridge and came toward the station at a gallop.

As he approached nearer the troopers saw that he was a stranger, and a very good-looking one, too. He was almost as dark as an Indian, his hair was long enough to reach to his shoulders, and the eyes that looked out from under the peak of his fatigue-cap were as black as midnight and as sharp as those of an eagle. He rode a magnificent horse, and his seat was easy and graceful. His only weapon--that is, the only one that could be seen--was a heavy Winchester rifle, which was slung at his back. If he was a soldier, he was a very fancy one, for his cavalry uniform, although in strict keeping with the regulations, was made of the finest material; he wore white gauntlet gloves on his hands; and instead of the ungainly, ill-fitting army shoe he wore fine boots, the heels of which were armed with small silver spurs. The troopers thought from his dress and carriage that he must be an officer, and when he drew rein in front of the station they stood at "attention" and saluted him.

"I don't deserve that honor, boys," said the stranger with a laugh; "I am not a shoulder-strap."

"You are not?" exclaimed Bob, who was not a little astonished as well as provoked at the mistake he had made. "Well, it seems to me that you are throwing on a good many frills for a private. Where do you belong?"

"At Fort Lamoine," said the stranger; and the answer was given in a tone quite as curt as was that in which the question was asked.

"So do I, but I don't remember to have seen you there, and so I shall have to ask you to give an account of yourself. Dismount."

"I shall do as I please about that," replied the stranger, who had all the while been staring very hard at Bob.

"Well, you won't do as you please about it," returned the corporal, while Carey walked up and took the stranger's horse by the bit. "You will do as _I_ please. If you belong at Fort Lamoine you will go there with me in the morning, and then I shall be sure you get there. I am acting under orders."

The horseman thrust his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, and pulling out a bill-book took from it a paper which he opened and handed to Bob to read.

"If you are acting under orders I have no more to say," said he, "but there is something which I think will see me through until day after to-morrow. It is my furlough. Look here, partner," he added suddenly, "isn't your name Bob Owens?"

The latter started as if he had been shot, his under jaw dropped down, and for a few seconds he stood looking at the speaker as if he could hardly believe his ears. Then a light seemed to break in upon him, and springing forward he grasped the horseman by the arm and fairly pulled him out of the saddle. After that he shook one of his hands with both his own and executed a sort of war-dance around him, while the troopers stood and looked on in speechless amazement.

"George Ackerman, I am delighted to see you again," cried Bob as soon as he could speak. "I take it all back, George: I didn't mean to insult you."

"It's Owens, isn't it?" said George, for it was he.

"Of course it is; and if you hadn't been blind you would have known it as soon as you saw me," replied Bob.

"I don't think my eyesight is any worse than your own, for you didn't know me until I called you by name," retorted George. "Your uniform tells me where you have been and what you have been doing since I last saw you, but it doesn't tell me how I came to lose you in Galveston so suddenly and mysteriously. If we had kept together a little while longer we should have been all right, for I had scarcely missed you before I ran against Mr. Gilbert--the friend to whom I wrote for money, you know.

If you belong at Fort Lamoine, what are you doing here?"

"Stake out your horse and mule and I will tell you all about it,"

answered Bob. "But first tell me what right you have to wear those clothes."

"I am a United States scout," replied George. "At least, that was the t.i.tle under which I was sworn in, but it does not clearly explain the duties that are expected of me. I am to act as guide to the troops when they cross the river in pursuit of the raiders."

"Oh yes," exclaimed Bob; "I remember all about it now. I was off after the hostiles when you came to the post and offered your services to the colonel. When I came back I found that the men had a good deal to say about our new scout, who, they said, looked about as much like a scout as they looked like the queen of England; but I had no idea who he was; and, seeing it's you, I'll not arrest you," he added with a laugh.--"Great Caesar! that was the second close call I have had to-day."

"If I had had any idea that you were going to touch him I should have warned you," said George. "It won't do for a stranger to come within reach of him, and it's the greatest wonder in the world that he didn't knock your brains out."

While the two friends were talking, George Ackerman, with the dexterity acquired by long experience, relieved the mule of his heavy pack and slipped the halter over his head, leaving the animal at liberty. Bob, judging the mule by those unruly members of his species that were employed in the quartermaster's department at the fort, stepped up and attempted to lay hold of his foretop; but the animal dodged him very cleverly, and, wheeling like lightning, sent both his heels at the boy's head. The latter dropped just in time to escape the blow, but he felt the "wind" of the heels in his face and heard them whistle close by his ear.