"When that fool, the commanding officer, concludes to let up on this arrest, there's likely to be some work to do—I'll fortify myself while I have the chance;" and that determination, added to his exhaustion, served to make his rest a very deliberate affair, not to be disturbed by trifles.
Several things occurred during that winter's morning that were far from trifling; yet no sound of them came to him, not even when a shot on the ridge echoed across the valley, and ten minutes later was followed by several more, accompanied by yells, heard faintly, but clearly enough to tell that a skirmishing party was having a shooting-match with someone across the hills. In three minutes every horse left in camp was mounted and scurrying fast as their feet could carry them through the drifts, while the horseless ones, whose stock had been run off in the muffled silence of the snow-storm, remained unwillingly behind.
At the end of the avenue Lieutenant Murray caught sight of Stuart and Hardy, riding toward camp. There was a hallooed invitation to join, another of acceptance, and the civilians joined the irregular cavalcade and swept with them over the hill, where the sounds of shots were growing fainter—evidently a retreat and a chase—toward which they rode blindly.
Through all of it their chief of scouts slept unconcernedly; a solid ten hours of rest was taken possession of before he aroused himself to care whether it was daylight or darkness.
"Major come yet?" was the first query.
"No."
"Am I still under arrest?"
"Yes."
"Then bring me something to eat. Past chuck?"
On being informed that the midday meal had been ended two hours before, his next query was whether anyone from the ranch had been to camp; but the guard thought not—a reply most grateful to the prisoner.