l
with their comrades of the --th, at whose head rode Canker with that
injured expression on his face that was habitual to him at no time more
than when he thought somebody else was going to get into a fight ahead
of him. He couldn't understand why Chrome should have picked out
Cranston for the dash on the village and retained him for so much less
conspicuous a duty. Everybody, however, who knew Canker knew he had
absolutely no dash at all. Brave and determined he might be, but
Canker's idea of a charge was a steady advance in line, to be instantly
checked and corrected and done over again if the men lost either touch
or "dress."

"We haven't a moment to lose, gentlemen," sang out the major. "The
village is already waking. Cranston, you charge through and stir 'em up
all you can. Truman, you support Cranston in line, but don't follow in
unless he's checked. Captain Canker, take the two troops and round up
that pony herd; it's half a mile long. Just as quick as you've rallied
beyond the village, Cranston, you face about and stand off any Indians
who rip out on that side. What I want is to drive every pony across the
Wakon and up the Ska valley, where we'll find support. Get them on the
jump and we're all right. Now I'll ride somewhere between Canker and
Truman. All ready now?" "What I want to know, major, is this," began
Canker, always on the lookout for some point or flaw.

"Well, you can ask what you want as we advance, captain. Are you ready,
Cranston?"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Cranston, in the hearty, nautical fashion he so
much liked that it had become habitual with him.

"Then shove ahead. We're backing you now. Now, Canker, what is it?"

But no one else cared what Canker wanted. All eyes were on Cranston and
his troop. Quickening the pace he led the way, keeping in fours until
clear of the head of column, then rapidly forming line. "Now, Davies,
just keep them so," he ordered, as he rode diagonally over in front of
the first platoon, "while I gallop ahead and get a peep over that
ridge."

Another minute and, curveting with impatience even after their
twenty-mile spurt, the handsome bays were dancing in one long line over
the springy turf, Davies and two stalwart sergeants in front of the
three platoons. They saw their soldierly leader whip off his hat as he
rode up the slope, rein cautiously in and peer eagerly over, saw him
gesticulating as he conferred with old Hawk, who lay on his stomach a
dozen yards