“I think so,” said the General. “This E-egante is likely to make trouble if he is not checked.” Then, understanding the thoughts of Captain Glynn, he added, with an invisible smile, “You need no preparations. You’re in marching order. It’s not as if your men had been here a long time and had to get ready for a start.”
“Oh no,” said Glynn, “it isn’t like that.” He was silent. “I think, if you’ll excuse me, General,” he said next, “I’ll see my sergeant and give some orders.”
“Certainly. And, Captain Glynn, I took the liberty of giving a few directions myself. We’ll take an A tent, you know, for you and me. I see Keyser is sergeant in F troop. Glad we have a non-commissioned officer so competent. Haven’t seen him since ’64, at Winchester. Why, it’s cleared off, I declare!”
It had, and the General looked out of the open door as Captain Glynn, departing, was pulling at his cigar. “How beautiful the planets are!” exclaimed Crook. “Look at Jupiter—there, just to the left of that little cottonwood-tree. Haven’t you often noticed how much finer the stars shine in this atmosphere than in the East? Oh, captain! I forgot to speak of extra horseshoes. I want some brought along.”
“I’ll attend to it, General.”
“They shouldn’t be too large. These California fourteen-and-a-half horses have smallish hoofs.”
“I’ll see the blacksmith myself, General.”
“Thank you. Good-night. And just order fresh stuffing put into the aparejos. I noticed three that had got lumpy.” And the General shut the door and went to wipe out the immaculate barrels of his shot-gun; for besides Indians there were grouse among the hills where he expected to go.
Captain Glynn, arriving at his own door, stuck his glowing cigar against the thermometer hanging outside: twenty-three below zero. “Oh Lord!” said the captain, briefly. He went in and told his striker to get Sergeant Keyser. Then he sat down and waited. “‘Look at Jupiter!’” he muttered, angrily. “What an awful old man!”