Frank told Henry to go to the ponies and remain there with Vic, while he and Clary moved towards the fire. Screening themselves behind tufts and swells, and lastly behind the saddles, they worked across the level, the sound of their movements being covered by the booming and rushing of the great river. When within twenty yards of the fire, and five from the saddles, Private Tom Clary sprang to his feet, aimed his double-barrelled shot-gun at the thieves, and shouted:
"Throw up your arrums!"
At the same moment Frank made a flying leap for the saddles, and seized the rifles and revolvers. Henry was told to come forward and assist his brother in keeping Dick and Juan under the muzzles of their own rifles, while Clary securely bound them. This accomplished, the boys went back for a moment to renew their acquaintance with their little horses. Yes, the chase was over, and their favorites were again in their possession, and it cannot appear strange that the young soldiers went into boyish ecstasies of delight at their good-fortune, embracing, patting, and talking to the ponies, as if they understood all that was said to them.
At last they rejoined Clary at the fire, and the three fell into a discussion of how they were to return to La Paz. Each one felt that it would be impossible to ford the river and yet retain possession of the prisoners. Either of the boys must go on one of the horses or Vic be sent. It was decided to send the setter. A message was written, and after much persuasion Vic was made to understand that she was to swim the Colorado, and struck across for the other shore.
While the boy sergeants were going through these adventures I had remained in La Paz. At retreat roll-call Corporal Duffey had reported "Private Clary absent and unaccounted for," and at Mr. Gray's table the boys were absent from supper.
At first I did not give myself any uneasiness over the absentees, thinking they had miscalculated a distance in their rambles and would soon appear. The Captain and Director of the steamer Cocopah were present, closing the transportation business. When finished, the Captain left to prepare his boat for an early start.
Becoming alarmed at the boys' continued absence, at midnight I began a search for them, and soon learned that Frank and Clary had gone quail-shooting, and that Henry had been seen to paddle out of the lagoon on a Mojave balsa, accompanied by Vic. I did not feel especially anxious concerning the older boy; he and Clary were probably astray, and would turn up safe.
I led the men in a long search beside the river without finding a clew, and returning to Mr. Gray's, sat a long time on the veranda alone, sadly reflecting upon the probable fate of Henry and the absence of Vic. I thought if the boy was simply in trouble, he would have sent our never-failing messenger to me. The fact that he had not done so made me fear the worst. Perhaps the faithful Vic was now watching his stranded body on the shores of the great river.
In the midst of these reflections there scrambled up the steps a wet and bedraggled dog, who dropped at my feet a chip. Carrying her in my arms to my room, I examined her collar, and found a few leaves of a memorandum-book covered with Frank's handwriting.