ld you all about
it on the morning we walked from that trapper's cabin to White River
Landing? I say, Bob, have you any idea of becoming a trapper when your
term of service expires?"

"Nary idea," was the emphatic reply. "A soldier's life is hard enough
for me, and there is quite as much danger in it as I care to face."

"What do you know about Gus Robbins?" continued George. "He left my
cousin Ned very suddenly in Brownsville, and none of us ever heard of
him afterward. It can't be possible that he enlisted too?"

"Yes, he did. He belongs to my troop, and is just as fond of getting
into scrapes as he ever was. When he is not in the guard-house he is
almost sure to be doing extra duty for some offence against military
discipline. He was one of the deserters I was ordered to capture, and he
is in the dug-out now. But I almost wish he had got away. You know him,
and when I was arresting him I almost felt as if I were doing something
against you. I haven't forgotten that you offered me a home, and--"

"The obligation is all on my side," interrupted George. "You saved my
life twice. Let's sit down here and talk a while. Go ahead and tell me
something."

The boys threw themselves on the grass near the place where George had
staked out his horse, and Bob began and described some of the
interesting incidents that had happened since he last saw the cub pilot.
He told the truth in regard to everything, not even excepting the
parting in Galveston. His experience in the army was rapidly working a
change in him, and he had not told a wilful lie since he assured the
recruiting-officer that he was an orphan and that there was no one in
the world who had a right to say whether he should enlist or not.

"I have done a good many mean things in my life, I am sorry to say," Bob
added in winding up his story, "but about the meanest trick I ever
played upon anybody I played upon you on the day we parted. I found
fifty cents in my watch-pocket, which I had carelessly shoved in there
when money was plenty, and I knew it would buy me supper and lodging. It
wasn't enough for both of us, so I ran away from you and went off by
myself. That's the way we became separated, and I tell you of it at the
risk of losing your friendship."

"You risk nothing at all," replied George, extending his hand. "I
couldn't expect that you would take care of me and pay my way at the
sacrifice of all your own personal comfort; but I do wish you had waited
jus