While they all were talking a new arrival halted near. It was an army ambulance—a wagon with black leather top, seats running around the inside, and four big black army mules as the team. It was bound west. A soldier in dusty blue uniform was the driver, and a corporal of infantry sat beside him, between his knees a Sharp’s carbine. From the rear of the ambulance another soldier briskly piled out. By his shoulder straps and the white stripes down his trouser-seams he was an officer; by the double bars on his shoulder straps a captain. He wore a revolver in holster.
He walked over to the group and nodded.
“Hello, Ben.”
“How are you, captain.” And Mr. Ficklin arose to shake hands.
“Gentlemen,” continued Mr. Ficklin, “I want to introduce Captain Brown.”
“I believe I know the captain,” spoke Charley, also shaking hands.
“Hello, Billy,” addressed the captain, catching sight of him. “What’s the matter? Been swimming?”
“Yes,” laughed Billy. “The water’s a little cold up in the mountains, so I took my annual down here.”
“Billy’s been at the diggin’s, captain,” vouchsafed Mr. Ficklin. “He brought down so much gold in his hide that he couldn’t travel till he’d washed it out.”