Now, however, as the two old chums rode away on a side scout of their own, it might well be expected that "Coyote" would be less reticent. The eyes of half the command had followed them appreciatively as the detachment started, Graham and Connell in the lead, Sergeant Drum, and his nineteen following in compact column of twos. No sooner did they reach the outlying sentries, however, than it was noted that the young leader looked back over his shoulder, and the next moment two troopers detached themselves from the rest and spurred out ahead until full six hundred yards in the lead. Then two others obliqued out to the right and left until nearly as a great a distance on the flanks.
"Knows his biz," said the adjutant, sententiously.
"Knows nothing but what I've taught him day by day," snarled Captain Garrett. "And I wash my hands of all responsibility for that detachment once it's out of sight of us."
"Shut up," growled a junior. "The 'Old Man's' got ears, and he'll hear you."
"Well, I want him to hear—it's time he did hear—and heed," was the surly answer. But "Grumbly's" eyes were wisely watching the major as he spoke, noting that the "Old Man" was busy with his binocular, following Graham's movements up the long, gradual, northward slope. The moment the major dropped it and turned toward the group, Captain Garrett changed his tone. "What I'm most afraid of is his getting lost," said he.
"You needn't be, captain," said the bearded commander, placidly. "Mr. Graham knows this country better than we do. He spent long months here before ever we set eyes on it."
Garrett's jaw dropped. "Then why didn't he tell me? How was I to know?"
"Principally, I fancy," drawled the adjutant, who loved to rub "Old Grumbly's" fur the wrong way, "because you told him two weeks ago that when you wanted advice or information on any subject from him you'd ask it."
But while Graham had as yet won no friend in Captain Garrett, he had found many among the troopers. His fine horsemanship, his kind, courteous manner to them, his soldierly bearing toward their irascible captain, had appealed to them at the start and held them more and more toward the finish. They saw the second day out that he was no novice at plainscraft. The captain had asked his estimate of the distance from a ford of the Chaduza to a distant butte, and promptly scoffed at his answer; indeed, it surprised most of them. Yet "Plum" Gunnison, pack-master, who had served seven years at the post, said the lieutenant was right. They saw within the fourth day that the new-comer was an old stager in more ways than one. "Touch-the-Sky," scout and interpreter, said the lieutenant knew sign talk, which was more than their captain did. They were to see still more within the compass of a day's march, but they had seen enough in their two weeks' comradeship to give them confidence in the young officer they never felt for their own and only "Grumbly," who, with all his experience, would often blunder, and Grumbly's blunders told on his troop, otherwise they might not have cared.
In low tone the troopers were chatting as they crossed the divide and once more came in view of the two far out in advance, riding now northeastward. They were following back, without much difficulty, the hoof-prints of the two fugitives who, riding in terror and darkness, had so fortunately found their bivouac at break of day. And it was of these two both the men and their young officers were talking as the little party jogged steadily on.