greatest respect, they were
sadly disappointed in him. The scouts with whom they were familiar were
great, rough, bearded men, strong of limb and slovenly in dress, who had
lived among the Indians all their lives, and had the reputation of being
able to whip their weight in wild-cats; but this one looked as though he
had but just come out of a fashionable tailor's shop, and, moreover, he
was nothing but a boy in years. What could the colonel have been
thinking of when he engaged this stripling to lead men across the river
and into the midst of the desperadoes who were known to have their
strongholds there? It was dangerous work, and the guide ought to be a
person of courage and experience; and George didn't look as though he
had either. That was what the troopers thought as they sat at the table
casting furtive glances at the new scout, who was talking earnestly with
Gus Robbins; but it was not long before they found out that it took a
brave man to follow where he dared lead.

The first trooper who finished his supper took the place of the sentry
at the door, and the next relieved the one who was standing guard over
the dug-out. When these two had satisfied their appetites the dishes
were washed, the table was laid again and the deserters were ordered up.
Some of them appeared to be very much disheartened, and would scarcely
look their comrades in the face, while the others were so defiant, and
had so much to say about the colonel who had ordered their arrest and
the men who had carried those orders into execution, that Bob was
obliged to warn them that if they did not eat more and jaw less he would
put them back into the dug-out without any supper.

When the deserters had had all they wanted to eat they were sent down to
their prison, the outside sentry was relieved, and Bob stood guard at
the door, with George for company. They had much to talk about, and it
was long after midnight when they went to bed. They slept on the same
blankets, and the new scout went off into the land of dreams with his
arm thrown lovingly around the boy who had twice saved his life, and
whom he had never expected to see again.

CHAPTER VI.

AN UNEXPECTED GUEST.

"Well, old fellow, what do you think of me now?"

It was George Ackerman who uttered these words, and the question was
addressed to his herdsman, Zeke. The former stood in front of a
full-length mirror that hung against the wall (among other extravagant
and useless thi