"Is supper most ready, boys?" asked Bill.
"I'll have it ready," replied Jack, "by the time you're ready for it."
"We've just got room in the stable for your two horses," I explained, "in place of the mule team Tom took with him, and I guess I'll take one of our broncos out and tie it behind the haystack to make room for your pack-mule, Bill."
"Don't you do anything of the kind, Peck," replied the scout. "That's one of Uncle Sam's mules, an' he'll do well enough tied in the lee of your haystack; in fact, it wouldn't hurt our horses much, either, to stand out."
While Bill, Adkins, and I had been watering, feeding, and putting away the stock, Jack had been getting supper, and now stepped to the door of the dugout with his fiddle and sounded "mess call," to see if the scout would know what it meant.
"That sounds pretty natural," said Bill to me, "let's go in an' see what he's got to show for it, for I'm as hungry as a coyote."
As we gathered around the mess-chest I inquired:
"When do they expect the volunteers that are coming to relieve the regulars?"
"Don't know a thing, only that they're on the road somewhere 'tween here an' Leavenworth. Now, if they were regulars you could calculate to the hour when they'd get here, for when they get orders to go anywhere neither hell nor high water'll stop 'em; but if a little bad weather strikes these volunteers, an' they can find a snug camping place, they're liable to hang up for a week or two, an' put in the time stealing chickens an' playing cards."
"How long do you and Adkins expect to be gone on this trip, Bill?"