CHAPTER XXXVI.
UNCLE SAM’S BOYS.
The column of horsemen that was filing at a slow trot through the cañon were, as Pearl had said, not Indians, but palefaces, and with a half cry of joy, Ruth saw that they were troopers, dressed in the uniform of United States cavalry. It was a squadron of less than a score. At their head rode a young and dashing officer of perhaps twenty-five years of age.
At a glance, womanlike, both the girls took in his superb form, splendid seat in the saddle, stylish uniform and broad shoulders, with the straps of a captain thereon. Then they saw his handsome, daring face, with its dark, earnest eyes, and firm mouth, shaded by a dark mustache.
Certainly he was an elegant-looking young officer, and into his frank, noble face the two girls, the daughter of the prairie, and the child of the hills, gazed with admiration and trust.
With surprise upon his features, a pleased surprise he did not attempt to conceal, the young officer drew rein before the two girls, whose horses stood side by side across the cañon, and, respectfully raising his plumed hat, said pleasantly:
“This is an unlooked-for pleasure—meeting ladies in these wild hills.”
“And a particular pleasure, sir, to us, at least to me, for there is certainly need for you and your troopers here,” replied Ruth.
Pearl remained silent, and the young captain again said: