"Awful!" he groaned, as he lay back again. "But about the fight—"
"There wasn't any," said Vic, and she added a rapid sketch of the garrison—Norah McLory at the gate, and Mrs. Evans with the drum, and the Mexican women parading as sentinels.
"Tell us about your ride," she said, as she paused for breath.
"Ride?" he said. "Well, yes, it was a great ride, but I don't know the whole of it, myself. How's Dick?"
"Sam says he's all right," said Vic, "and there isn't such another horse in all New Mexico."
"Guess there isn't," replied Cal, very emphatically. "The black is a good fellow, but it was his gait that made me so sore. I can't turn over."
He could tell all that he knew, however, and he could hear all that they had to say, and he found that he could sit up when Norah brought in his breakfast.
"Hungry? I guess I am. Never was so hungry in all my life. But I'm going with father after 'em."
He was as much in need of a thorough rubbing as Dick had been, but when Sam Herrick gave it to him, a little later, he had to shut his mouth hard, for Sam's gentleness was of a cowboy kind, and he did his whole duty. After that was over Cal could walk fairly well, and he went out at once for a look at the red mustang, and Vic and his mother went with him.
"There he is," he said, "that's a fact, but I can't tell how it came to be so. I left him picketed in the corral, at the cavalry camp. He must have untied himself and got away."