"Who comes there, I say? Halt! or I'll fire."
"For God's sake don't fire, man; we've got ladies here."
"What ladies? Who are you anyhow? Quick!"
"George Harvey's daughters, of Tucson. I'm his son."
"God be praised!" shouted Feeny, springing to his feet and rushing forward. "Are they all safe?—unharmed? Where did you overtake them?"
"Overtake who? What in blazes are you talking about?" queried a tall, slender fellow, bending down from his saddle. "Who are you?"
"Sergeant Feeny, of the cavalry,—and here's the major just back of me."
"Major who?"
"Major Plummer; him you was talking with this morning when you came for help," answered Feeny, his voice tremulous with excitement. Already he was beginning to see light.
"Why, I've never seen Major Plummer nor any other major to-day. The only troops I met were Sergeant Wing and his guard at the pass just after nightfall. Have you met the Apaches? You saw the signal, of course."