When the lieutenant rejoined his superior after Brookes' departure, he found that Gordon had taken up his station near the spot where the colonel had been killed. It overlooked the edge of the timber where he had stationed his men. The lieutenant, who was fresh from the East, was palpably nervous; while the captain's manner indicated long familiarity with just such affairs as the one in hand.
“Brookes has gone?” he queried, without waiting for the lieutenant to speak.
“Yes, half an hour ago.”
“And there's nothing stirring in the camp back of us? That was a pretty clean sweep. How about Sergeant Porter and the dogs?”
“He thinks he's got them all, sir.”
“That's good; that's very good!”
Gordon took the young man by the arm, and side by side they fell to pacing back and forth. The captain was well pleased with the situation.
“Brookes and his party will soon be behind the redskins,” he observed; “and when they break for fresh cover we shall have a good chance to test the new guns and ammunition.”
The lieutenant smiled. It was not a mirthful smile; but then he was between the captain and the gorge, and anything like enthusiasm over gunshot wounds was beyond him.
“Do you count on the home talent standing if the Indians try for this cover?” he asked.