"Stake out your horse and mule and I will tell you all about it," answered Bob. "But first tell me what right you have to wear those clothes."
"I am a United States scout," replied George. "At least, that was the title under which I was sworn in, but it does not clearly explain the duties that are expected of me. I am to act as guide to the troops when they cross the river in pursuit of the raiders."
"Oh yes," exclaimed Bob; "I remember all about it now. I was off after the hostiles when you came to the post and offered your services to the colonel. When I came back I found that the men had a good deal to say about our new scout, who, they said, looked about as much like a scout as they looked like the queen of England; but I had no idea who he was; and, seeing it's you, I'll not arrest you," he added with a laugh.—"Great Cæsar! that was the second close call I have had to-day."
"If I had had any idea that you were going to touch him I should have warned you," said George. "It won't do for a stranger to come within reach of him, and it's the greatest wonder in the world that he didn't knock your brains out."
While the two friends were talking, George Ackerman, with the dexterity acquired by long experience, relieved the mule of his heavy pack and slipped the halter over his head, leaving the animal at liberty. Bob, judging the mule by those unruly members of his species that were employed in the quartermaster's department at the fort, stepped up and attempted to lay hold of his foretop; but the animal dodged him very cleverly, and, wheeling like lightning, sent both his heels at the boy's head. The latter dropped just in time to escape the blow, but he felt the "wind" of the heels in his face and heard them whistle close by his ear.
"Does he always act that way when strangers approach him?" asked Bob as he picked up his cap. "If he does, you need not be afraid that anybody will steal him. I tried to catch him because I was afraid he would run off."
"Oh, he'll not do that. I never think of staking him out, for he always stays by my horse, and I can catch him anywhere. There's a horse for you, Bob, and the best one I ever owned. He is a present from Mr. Gilbert, who bought him in Kentucky for his own private use, but when he found that I was going into the army he gave him to me, with the assurance that Fletcher and his band could never make a prisoner of me while I was on his back. I lost my old horse, Ranger, at the time I was captured by the Greasers, and he was killed at the battle of Querétaro. Now, what are you doing so far away from the fort?" asked George as he picked up his picket-pin and led the horse around the station to find a good place to stake him out. "How did you come to go into the army, anyway, and what have you been doing to win those stripes?"
"It would take a long time to answer your last two questions," answered Bob, "and so we will leave them until the rest of the boys have gone to bed. I came here in pursuit of seven men who deserted last night."
"You did? Well, Bob, your superiors must have a good deal of confidence in you to send you off on such an expedition. Where do you expect to find them?"
"I have found them already, and arrested them too; that is, I have caught six of them, and I know where the other one is. I intend to take him in hand to-morrow, though, to tell the truth, I don't know just how I am going to do it. I could have arrested him to-day if I had had authority to take him out of a house; but I wasn't sure on that point, and so I let him go until I could have time to make up my mind to something. I got that about fifteen minutes before you came up," said Bob, directing his friend's attention to the hole in his coat that had been made by Bristow's bullet. "My men returned the fire and slightly wounded one of the deserters, who is now laid out on his blanket in the sleeping-room. By the way, do you know Gus Robbins?"