For several hours he slept serenely, then awaking he cooked his breakfast and was soon again in the saddle.
He seemed to understand frontier craft perfectly, and to appreciate just what his horse could stand, so did not press him too hard.
Camping at nightfall, he was again on the trail at daybreak, and held steadily on during the day.
Another night-camp and he rode into Fort Faraway the next morning before the hour of noon.
He was directed at once to the quarters of Buffalo Bill, and though, having been a soldier there, he recognized many old friends, he saw that, dressed as he then was, and with his beard grown, the recognition was not mutual.
But the moment he entered the presence of Buffalo Bill he was recognized and warmly greeted, for the scout had always liked the young soldier, who had been given his discharge on account of a severe wound received in an Indian fight, which it was thought would render him lame for life.
"Well, Harding, I am glad to see you, and you deserve credit for the plucky ride you have made. How is the old wound getting on now?"
"All right, Bill, for I am not at all lame, I am glad to say."
"And you are getting rich, I suppose?"
"Well, no, but I have laid up some money in mining, only I cannot stand upon my wounded leg long at a time, and so I am going to ask you to take me on as a scout under your command, if you can do so."