Thompson had already said all he could to keep Carl at home, and he knew that it was breath wasted. He went out and sent in the cook to get his money, and then seated himself on the doorstep and rested his head on his hands. One by one the men were settled with according to the terms of his father’s will, and after that Carl put on his hat and went out to his sire’s grave. How long he stayed there no one knew, but when he came back his eyes were red and he went into his own room.
The next morning, however, Carl was himself again. He ate a hearty breakfast, shook the men warmly by the hand, and set off at a gallop. He was dressed in a suit that was more becoming to him than the one he wore to St. Louis. He wore a tight-fitting suit of moleskin, with a Mexican sombrero and heavy gauntlet gloves. At his waist he carried his revolver, and at his back his Winchester rifle, supported by a broad band which crossed his breast. In his saddle-bags he carried an extra suit, another pair of boots, a shirt or two, and ammunition for his rifle. His horse was a mustang, small and clean-limbed, and although he did not move as though he had any “go” in him, his rider was willing to ride him a twenty-mile race with any horse on the plains. Taken altogether he was a very fancy-looking scout, as some of the soldiers said when he drew up to report to the colonel; but they found out that there was something more than fancy about him when he came to fulfill his duty.
“Well, Carl, I am glad to see you,” said the colonel, as the orderly took in his name. He had left his horse outside in the hands of a teamster, and his rifle and saddle bags were on the porch. “I have business for you right away,” added the colonel; “but first I want to know how much you are going to charge me.”
“I want nothing, sir, except my board,” said Carl.
“Nothing?” exclaimed the commander. “And will you be ready to go night and day whenever I shall call upon you?”
Carl replied that he would.
“That is cheap enough. You had better take another horse, for I am going to send you to Fort Yates.”
“I guess my horse will do for that journey,” said Carl with a smile. “I am more used to him than I am to any other animal.”
And so it came about that Carl, the Trailer, got a position without going out of his own country. For two years he stayed there at the fort, making occasional trips to his ranch to see how things were going on there, and every time the colonel called for him he was there. He boarded with the teamsters while he was at the fort, but his favorite duty, and the one he most delighted in, was guiding the hunting expeditions to the mountains to get fresh meat for the garrison. Every time Carl went off in this way he was certain to come back with his wagons well filled.