"Well, 'Brick,' old boy," said the scout genially, although his thin face was as solemn as ever; "so you fellows have come back to be in the shindy?"
"We 've been in it all summer, Sam," was the reply. "It's been lively enough south of the Cimarron, the Lord knows. I 've been riding patrol for months now. But what's up? No one seems to know why we were ordered in."
"It's all guess-work here," and Wasson sat down on the narrow bed and lit his pipe. "But the 'old man' is getting something under way, consolidating troops. Your regiment is going to be used, that's certain. I 've been carryin' orders between here an' Wallace for three weeks now, an' I 've heard Sheridan explode once or twice. He 's tired of this guerilla business, an' wants to have one good fight."
"It is getting late."
"That's the way he figures it out, accordin' to my notion. We 've always let those fellows alone during the bad weather, an' they 've got so they expect it. The 'old man' figures he 'll give 'em a surprise."
"A winter campaign?"
"Why not? We can stand it if they can. O' course, I 'm just guessin'; there 's no leak at headquarters. But Custer 's up there," with a wave of the hand to the north, "and they 've got the maps out."
"What maps?"
"I only got a glimpse of them out of the tail of my eye, but I reckon they was of the kintry south of the Arkansas, along the Canadian."
Hamlin sat down beside him, staring across the big room.