“I guess somebody has been saying a little to you about what I have on hand,” said the colonel with a smile. “Well, I don’t know as I blame the captain for that. How large an escort of soldiers do you think you will want to go with you to Standing Rock Agency?”
“I want just one, sir.”
“One!” exclaimed the colonel, opening his eyes. “Remember that you will have to cross their lines somewhere.”
“I know it, sir; but it will be easier for two men to hide than it will for a larger number. If I were going to ask for a larger squad than I have named, I should ask for your whole force.”
The commanding officer settled back in his chair and stared at the lieutenant without speaking.
“I would like to have one man go with me, sir, if I might be allowed a choice,” said the lieutenant.
“Who is it?”
“Carl, the Trailer.”
“You seem to have got on pretty good terms with him during the last week,” said the colonel, straightening up again. “Well, come around in about half an hour and I will talk to you. I want to add something to these dispatches about the war-party of Sioux you met while coming home. Bring Preston with you. You may dismiss your men, and detail two of them to cut up game enough for supper. Perhaps you had better get something to eat before you go.”
Lieutenant Parker arose to his feet, made his best salute, and went out. He seemed to be treading on air. The colonel thought enough of him to send him where he had always sent a brave and experienced man, and here he was scarcely six months out of West Point. The captain was standing just outside the door, with his hands on his hips, watching his men, who were going toward the stables, and hearing the lieutenant’s footsteps behind him turned and looked over his shoulder.