r number had escaped before and had made it their
boast that they could break away from the Russell guard at any time.
Directing the sergeant to return to his guard, and hurriedly scribbling
a note to the officer of the day, who had his whole troop with him in
the saddle out on the prairie, and sending it by the hand of the
sergeant-major, the adjutant hurried to his own quarters and called for
Van. The news had reached there already. News of any kind travels like
wildfire in a garrison, and Van was saddled and bridled before the
adjutant reached the gate.

"Bring me my revolver and belt,--quick," he said to the servant, as he
swung into saddle. The man darted into the house and came back with the
belt and holster.

"I was cleaning your 'Colt,' sir," he said, "but here's the Smith &
Wesson," handing up the burnished nickel-plated weapon then in use
experimentally on the frontier. Looking only to see that fresh
cartridges were in each chamber and that the hammer was on the
safety-notch, the adjutant thrust it into the holster, and in an instant
he and Van flew through the east gate in rapid pursuit.

Oh, how gloriously Van ran that day! Out on the prairie the gay guidons
of the troops were fluttering in the brilliant sunshine; here, there,
everywhere, the skirmish-lines and reserves were dotting the plain; the
air was ringing with the merry trumpet-calls and the stirring words of
command. Yet men forgot their drill and reined up on the line to watch
Van as he flashed by, wondering, too, what could take the adjutant off
at such an hour and at such a pace.

"What's the row?" shouted the commanding officer of one company.

"Prisoners loose," was the answer shouted back, but only indistinctly
heard. On went Van like one inspired, and as we cleared the drill-ground
and got well out on the open plain in long sweeping curve, we changed
our course, aiming more to the right, so as to strike the valley west of
the town. It was possible to get there first and head them off. Then
suddenly I became aware of something jolting up and down behind me. My
hand went back in search: there was no time to look: the prairie just
here was cut up with little gopher-holes and criss-crossed by tiny
canals from the main _acequia_, or irrigating ditch. It was that
wretched Smith & Wesson bobbing up and down in the holster. The Colt
revolver of the day was a trifle longer, and my man in changing pistols
had not thought to change holsters. This o