that bullet-hole in his coat.

The next time the order was given for the troopers to take the prisoners
on their horses, George beckoned to Gus Robbins, who quickly mounted
behind him. After conversing a while upon the various exciting incidents
that had transpired while Gus was Ned Ackerman's guest at George's
ranche, the latter said,

"I never expected to meet you again, and I would rather not have met you
at all than see you in this scrape."

"Well, it can't be helped now," answered Gus, with a weak unsuccessful
attempt to appear defiant. "The colonel told me just what I might expect
if I were ever again court-marshaled for desertion, and I went at it
with my eyes open. I am not sorry I tried it, but I am sorry I didn't
get away. If they don't watch me pretty closely, they will never have a
chance to take me to Leavenworth."

"What do you suppose your father will say when he finds it out?" asked
George.

"He will never find it out if I can help it."

"Don't you correspond with him?"

"Not by a great sight. He doesn't know whether I am dead or alive. I
wish I had changed my name when I enlisted."

"He lives in Foxboro', Ohio, I believe?" said George.

Gus replied that he did.

"Is his name Gus too?"

"No; his name is Thomas, and he is--I say," exclaimed Gus suddenly,
"what are you asking so many questions for? Do you intend to write to
him about me?"

"Why, what object could I possibly have in doing that?" asked George,
turning a very innocent-looking face toward the deserter. "I am sure it
is none of my business what you do. Let's talk about something else. We
are getting over the ground pretty rapidly now, and if Bob would let me
I could land you in the fort in four hours. I don't suppose that you are
in any hurry to get there, but what I meant was, that your additional
weight would not prevent this horse of mine from travelling from here to
the fort at his very best licks."

"No, I don't weigh much now," said Gus with a sigh. "Hard work, hard
fare, hard treatment and constant worry have brought me down to a
hundred and ten pounds."

"That's not very heavy for a seventeen-year-old boy."

"Oh, I am nineteen," said Gus, "but just now I feel as though I were
forty."

"And you look so, too," said George to himself.--"That was the reason I
wanted to know your exact age."

George had now learned all he cared to know about Gus Robbins. He was a
minor, his father's name was Thomas and he lived in Foxb