"I don't know, sir," replied Al, as side by side they rode their horses into the creek, "but that was what the General told me to say to you."
The stream was shallow and narrow but its banks were composed of deep, swampy mud through which their horses floundered and plunged, knee deep. Above and below them soldiers of the Coyotes were coming at the stream, some clearing it in a bound, where the banks were solid enough for a jump, while others became so deeply mired that they could not get out again until the rest of the command had passed from sight beyond. Just as Al's and the Captain's horses waded out of the creek and came up, snorting, on the opposite bank, they heard some of the men already across, shouting,
"There are the Indians! Over there!"
At this moment a headquarters orderly galloped into sight and halted beside the Captain.
"The General is afraid you will ruin your horses," he cried. "He thinks you had better come back."
Again Captain Miner tugged at his beard, a habit of his when annoyed or perplexed.
"Is that an order?" he inquired.
"No, sir, I think not," the orderly replied, hesitatingly. "It's a suggestion."
"Well," directed the Captain, gently, "will you, then, please report to the General that we are in sight of the Indians and without I have a positive order to return, I propose to take them."