another wagon-master."

"I'll not forget that. When was you expecting to pull out north?"

"Whenever the other companies get here. May be three days--may be three
weeks."

"Then I will have plenty time for a game to-night."

With this slight dig of his civilian independence into the lieutenant's
military ribs, the scout walked away, his long, lugubrious frockcoat
(worn in honor of the mess) occasionally flapping open in the breeze,
and giving a view of a belt richly fluted with cartridges, and the ivory
handle of a pistol looking out of its holster. He got on his horse,
crossed the flat, and struck out for the cabin of his sociable friends,
Loomis and Kelley, on the hill. The open door and a light inside showed
the company, and Cutler gave a grunt, for sitting on the table was the
half-breed, the winner of his unavenged dollars. He rode slower, in
order to think, and arriving at the corral below the cabin, tied his
horse to the stump of a cottonwood. A few steps towards the door, and he
wheeled on a sudden thought, and under cover of the night did a crafty
something which to the pony was altogether unaccountable. He unloosed
both front and rear cinch of his saddle, so they hung entirely free in
wide bands beneath the pony's belly. He tested their slackness with his
hand several times, stopping instantly when the more and more surprised
pony turned his head to see what new thing in his experience might be
going on, and, seeing, gave a delicate bounce with his hind-quarters.

"Never you mind, Duster," muttered the scout. "Did you ever see a
skunk-trap? Oughts is for mush-rats, and number ones is mostly used
for 'coons and 'possums, and I guess they'd do for a skunk. But you and
we'll call this here trap a number two, Duster, for the skunk I'm after
is a big one. All you've to do is to act natural."

Cutler took the rope off the stump by which Duster had been tied
securely, wound and strapped it to the tilted saddle, and instead of
this former tether, made a weak knot in the reins, and tossed them over
the stump. He entered the cabin with a countenance sweeter than honey.

"Good-evening, boys," he said. "Why, Toussaint, how do you do?"

The hand of Toussaint had made a slight, a very slight, movement towards
his hip, but at sight of Cutler's mellow smile resumed its clasp upon
his knee.

"Golly, but you're gay-like this evening," said Kelley.

"Blamed if I knowed he could look so frisky," added Loomis.

"Sport