As they neared the miner's shack, a tall young Payonnay, in the dress of a cowboy, came out to meet them, smiling broadly.
"I'm looking for you, Captain."
"Are you, Jack? Well, you see me. What's your message?"
"The Colonel says you are to come in right off. He told me to tell you he had an order for you."
A slouching figure, supporting a heap of greasy rags, drew near, and a low voice drawled, weakly: "Jack's been here since Friday. I told him where you was, but he thought he'd druther lay by my fire than hunt ye."
Curtis studied the squat figure keenly. "You weren't looking for the job of crossing the range yourself, were you?"
The tramplike miner grinned and sucked at his pipe. "Well, no—I can't say that I was, but I like to rub it into these lazy Injuns."
Jack winked at Curtis with humorous appreciation. "He's a dandy to rub it into an Injun, don't you think?"
Even Skinner laughed at this, and Curtis said: "Unsaddle the horses and give them a chance at the grass, sergeant. We can't go into the fort to-night with the packs. And, Skinner, I want to hire a horse of you, while you help Pierce bring my outfit into the fort to-morrow. I must hurry on to see what's in the wind."
"All right, Captain, anything I've got is yours," responded the miner, heartily.