aptain Skinner and his miners were well mounted, and they were tough, seasoned horsemen. They were in a great hurry, too, for their minds were full of dreams of the good times they meant to have.
They made an astonishingly long day's march, and did not meet with the slightest sign of danger. That night they slept soundly on their blankets in the open air, and perhaps some of them dreamed that in a few nights more they would have roofs over their heads, and wake up in the morning to find hot coffee on the breakfast table. No bell rang for them, however, when breakfast-time came; but when they had nearly completed their simple meal of broiled beef and cold water, their ears were saluted by a very different sound.
"Horses! Rifles! Mount! Boys," shouted the little Captain, "that's a cavalry bugle."
Cavalry!
They sprang for their arms, and mounted in hot haste. But before the last man was in the saddle, the music of that bugle was close upon them.
"No use to fight, boys, even if they were enemies. There's more'n three hundred of 'em; Regulars, too. What on earth brings 'em away up here? Can't be there's any revolution going on?"
"It isn't too late for us to run, Cap," suggested Bill.
"Yes, it is. They'd catch us in no time. Besides, we haven't done anything to run for."
"Not to them, we haven't."