IX
Under the midnight sky, misty pale and dusted with glittering stars, the little shelter tents of Landor's command shone in white rows. The campfires were dying; the herd, under guard, was turned out half a mile or more away on a low mesa, where there was scant grazing; and the men, come that afternoon into camp, were sleeping heavily, after a march of some forty miles,—all save the sentry, who marched up and down, glancing from time to time at the moving shadows of the herd, or taking a sight along his carbine at some lank coyote scudding across the open.
But presently he saw, coming from down the road, two larger bodies, which showed themselves soon, in the light of the stars against the sands, to be a pair of horsemen and evidently no Apaches. He watched them. They rode straight up to the camp and answered his challenge. They wished, they said, to speak to the officer in command.
The sentry was of the opinion that it was an unseemly hour to arouse a man who had marched all day, but it was not for him to argue. He walked deliberately, very deliberately indeed, that the citizens might be impressed, over to Landor's tent and awoke him. "There's two citizens here, sir, asking to see you, sir." His tone plainly disclaimed any part in the affair.
Landor came out, putting on his blouse, and went over to the horsemen. One of them dismounted and raised his hat.
"My name, sir, is Foster."
Landor expressed pleasure, without loss of words.
"I represent, sir, the citizens of San Tomaso."
"Yes?" said Landor. He knew the citizens of the district, and attached no particular sacredness to the person of their envoy.
"They have expressed the desire that I should convey to you, Colonel—"