Springer gave the necessary order in Spanish, and it was sullenly obeyed.
"Just remind them, Springer, that if they don't step faster than that somebody may hasten their movements with a prod from the point of a sabre," said Bob angrily. "We are in no humor to stand a great deal of nonsense from them. Now, right-face them; that's better.—Fall in around them, squad, four on each flank and four in the rear. Forward, march!—Now, George, which way is the fort from here?"
"Off there," replied George, "but I am going to take you to the river-trail."
"What for?"
"So that you can get something to eat."
If they had been a little farther down the river, say about twenty-five miles, George would have taken them to his own house. It would have given him no little pleasure to entertain these companions of a long, toilsome and dangerous scout under his own roof; but of course he could not think of leading them out of their way in order to do it. They found plenty to eat after they reached the river-trail, but the ranchemen at whose houses they halted could give them no information concerning the raiders. They had been on that side of the river, and had gone back empty-handed, and that was all the ranchemen knew about the matter. This made it plain that Bob's gallant dash had not been without its effect. It had frightened the thieves so thoroughly that they dared not stop to pick up any of the cattle they found in their way.
Bob and his troopers camped that night near a farm-house whose owner was so delighted to see the five prisoners they had brought with them, and to learn of the success that had attended them ever since Captain Clinton sent them off by themselves, that he insisted on giving them a seat at his table. The next morning he gave them a breakfast; but the first squad who went in—which included Bob and George—had scarcely taken possession of their chairs when one of the sentries was heard calling lustily for the corporal of the guard. Bob excused himself and ran out, only to return again almost immediately and startle everybody with the order, "Boots and saddles!" George jumped up from the table, wondering what was the matter. When he reached the porch he found out. About a mile up the trail was a long column of blue-coats coming down at a sweeping trot.
"They are our boys, and they are after the Greasers," exclaimed Bob, as George came down the steps. "It's lucky we are here, for you are the very man they want if they are going across the river.—Catch up, boys, and fall in just as we do when we are on the march, only face to the left, so as to front the column when it comes up."
If we have a reader who is familiar with cavalry tactics, he will have discovered, long before this time, that Corporal Owens was not at all particular as to the orders he gave, provided he could make his men act to suit him. When in the presence of his superiors he always gave the proper commands, in order to save himself from the reproof that would have promptly followed the slightest departure from the tactics; but when he was in command of a scouting-party he was decidedly free and easy. Even an old trooper might have been puzzled over this last order, but the men who had marched with him so many miles were quick to catch his meaning and prompt to carry out his wishes; so that when the whole available cavalry force of Fort Lamoine, numbering two hundred men, came sweeping by the farm-house a few minutes later, with Captain Clinton riding at the head, they were astonished to see Bob's little squad drawn up in a hollow square, with their prisoners in the centre. Of late there had been a good many anxious inquiries made concerning these very men, and here they were, safe and sound, and, wonderful to tell, with more prisoners to show what good soldiers they were.
"Three cheers for the 'Brindles,' the old reliables!" shouted the sergeant-major; and the yells that arose from two hundred pairs of strong lungs could have been heard a long distance away.