“You’ll find out one of these days,” answered Tom.
The sergeant’s eyes were beginning to twinkle.
“I had no idea we were to receive a visit from so highly trained a body,” he remarked, with a tinge of sarcasm in his tones. “Candidly, my curiosity’s aroused: tell me something about yourselves, and how you were able to find your way to our barracks on a dark night like this.”
“Dave Brandon is our historian,” laughed Bob. “Speak up, Dave, and oblige the sergeant.”
Dave protested; he tried to pass along the honor. But, by unanimous vote, the others overruled him. So the “historian,” with a sigh, began.
It was quite a long story that Sergeant Erskine heard, and frequently a slight smile played about his mouth. At times he asked questions, too, which brought a snapping light into Tom Clifton’s eyes, for they seemed to indicate doubt on the part of the speaker.
“Well, well,” he exclaimed finally, leaning back in his chair and fumbling a heavy watch fob which hung from his pocket. “’Pon my word, it’s quite remarkable! What do you think of it, Banes?”
“Not much. I think nothings of it,” answered the half-breed, surlily. “It is like the big wind in the trees which makes a noise and nothing more.”
Erskine came as near to laughing as he ever did, while Larry Burnham immediately went into another paroxysm of mirth.
“A corking good simile,” he exclaimed. “How about it, Tom? For goodness’ sake, don’t look so mad.”