"They are the heaviest gates I ever saw," said Frank.
"Then stop straining at them. Captain Bayard has several times suggested that you be relieved of the duty."
"We have swung them since they were hung, and we want to do it until we leave," continued Frank. "We can't remain here much longer. I think this express will bring an order for us to go to San Francisco."
"Very likely. It will be an agreeable change for you. Life here is not very enjoyable for boys."
"I should say not," said Henry. "At Santa Fe there was plenty of fun. Of course we had to study there; but that made play all the more pleasant. Then we could go hunting now and then, or gathering piñons; but here we can't look outside of the fort unless a dozen soldiers are along, for fear the Apaches will get us."
"But you can go to Prescott."
"Prescott!" in a tone of great contempt. "Twenty-one log cabins and stores, and not a boy in the place—only a dozen Pike County, Missouri, girls."
"And we can't go there with any comfort since Texas Dick and Jumping Jack stole Sancho and Chiquita," added Frank.
Further conversation was temporarily interrupted by the arrival of the expressman. A roan bronco galloped up the slope bearing a youthful rider wearing a light buckskin suit and a soft felt hat with a narrow brim. He was armed with a breech-loading carbine and two revolvers, and carried, attached to his saddle, a roll of blankets and a mail-pouch.
Dismounting, he detached the pouch, at the same time answering questions and giving us items of news later than any contained in his despatches.