“Well, you don’t go on scout every day,” said Oscar. “Besides, you have a life position; you get good pay for what you do, and there are your chances for promotion. You’ll be a colonel yourself some day.”
“Not much. We go by the seniority rule in peace times, and there are a good many on the list above me, I tell you. Nothing but a war that will kill off some of my seniors will advance me.”
CHAPTER XV.
THE HUNTING PARTY.
Joel Warwick was a dashing young officer, proud of his chosen profession, and anxious for an opportunity to distinguish himself in it. Although he was fresh from West Point—he had been on the plains but little more than a year—he had shown himself to be possessed of a good many qualities that go to make up a first-class soldier.
“I have been thinking of you ever since we were introduced,” continued the lieutenant, “and wondering if you really knew the worth of the attentions that have been shown you. You came out here a perfect stranger, and yet you were received at once on terms of intimacy by the colonel, who can’t do too much for you; while we little fellows, who have risked our lives in obedience to his orders, must keep our distance. The gulf between line and field officers in the regular army is a wide one, and no subordinate must attempt to cross it. Before my commander will be as free with me as he is with you, I must wear an eagle on my shoulders.”
“And yet he thinks a great deal of you,” said Oscar. “He told me that you would some day make a fine officer.”
“Did he say that?” exclaimed the lieutenant, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Well, I knew that he was satisfied with me. If he wasn’t, he never would have invited me to go on this hunt.”
“What did you do to please him?”
“I rode my horse to death while carrying despatches for him. While we were out on our last scout, it became necessary for him to communicate with the commandant at Fort Wallace; so he started me off with Big Thompson for a guide. I rode a splendid animal, which my father had presented to me when I was first ordered out here, and which I believe to be equal, if not superior, to anything that ever stood on four feet; but, before we had gone half the distance, he was completely done up, and Thompson had to shoot him. That was in accordance with orders, you know. If a horse gives out, he is killed, to keep him from falling into the hands of the hostiles who may use him against us. My guide then ran ahead, on foot, and I rode his horse. And would you believe it?—that miserable little pony of his was none the worse for the journey, and neither was Thompson, while I was so completely played out that I wasn’t worth a cent for a whole week. By the way, I thought I saw you leave the post on horseback?”
“So I did; but out there in the sage-brush he threw me, and made off before I could catch him. I hope to find him somewhere about the corral.”