That was a gala night in camp. Songs and stories filled the time till far into the night. The three boys, who possessed remarkably good voices, sang several popular songs and were much applauded. At last they had to stop from sheer weariness.
Each lad was anxious to go out on duty along the Rio Grande that same evening, but Captain Atkinson sternly forbade them doing so.
“You turn into your blankets and get a good sleep,” he ordered. “I’ve got another job on hand for you to–morrow and I want you to be fresh when you tackle it.”
Much mystified and not a little excited at these words, the boys obediently turned in and were soon sound asleep. They were astir bright and early the next morning—just as the last patrol of the night was coming in, in fact. The night had been an eventless one, they learned, the rebels having given no sign of their presence.
Soon after breakfast Captain Atkinson approached the boys, who were polishing up their saddles and bits, accompanied by a tall, bronze–bearded man, whose tanned skin and keen gray eyes bespoke him a dweller in the open places.
“This is Mr. Lionel Reeves, the rancher, of whom you may have heard,” he said. “Mr. Reeves, these are the lads of whom I spoke to you.”
“I am sure you could not have picked better young fellows for the task you wish accomplished,” spoke Mr. Reeves, shaking hands warmly with each of the boys in turn. “By the way, do they know about it?”
“Not yet,” rejoined Captain Atkinson, with a smile at the eager looks that three pairs of eyes turned on him.