.

When the giant scrambled to his feet, the victor said with a smile:

"This has been a fight, man to man, and I'm satisfied. I'll not report
it officially."

The big one grinned sheepishly and respectfully offered his hand:

"You're all right, Lieutenant. I made a mistake. I beg your pardon.
You're the kind of a commander I've always liked."

Again the soldiers gave a shout. No man under him ever again presumed on
his beardless face. He had only to make his orders known to have them
instantly obeyed.

Jim Pemberton had watched the little drama of officer and man with an
ugly light gleaming in his eyes. The young master had not seen him. That
night in his quarters Jim quietly said:

"I'd a killed him ef he'd a laid his big claws on you, Marse Jeff."

"Would you, James?"

"Dat I would, sah."

Nothing more was said. But a new bond was sealed between master and man.

While at Fort Crawford, the Lieutenant had been ordered up the Yellow
River to build a saw mill. He had handled the neighboring Indians with
such friendly skill and won their good will so completely, he was
adopted by their chief as a brother of the tribe. An old Indian woman
bent with age traveled a hundred miles to the Fort to warn the "Little
Chief" of a coming attack of hostile bands. Her warning was unheeded by
the new commander and a massacre followed.

The success of this attack raised the war spirit of the entire frontier
and gave the soldiers a winter of exceptional danger and hardship. The
country in every direction swarmed with red warriors on the warpath. The
weather was intensely cold, and his Southern blood suffered agonies
unknown to his companions. Often wet to the skin and compelled to remain
in the saddle, the exposure at last brought on pneumonia. For months he
lay in his bed, directing, as best he could, the work of his men.

James Pemberton lifted his weak, emaciated form in his arms as if he
were a child. The black man carried his money, his sword and pistols. At
any moment, day or night, he could have stepped from the door into the
wilderness and been free. He was free. He loved the man he served. With
tireless patience and tenderness, he nursed him back from the shadows of
death into life again.

On recovering from this illness, the Lieutenant faced a new commander at
the head of his regiment--a man destined to set in motion the greatest
event of his life.

Colonel Zachary Taylor had been promoted to the command of th