ggers, for
we have found that out too. Look at that lieutenant! He rides in the
wagon every day, while we have to hoof it."

"But you must remember that he is not strong," said Bob. "He has not yet
fully recovered from the effects of his wound."

"I don't believe a word of it," declared Bristow. "He's just as able to
march and cook his own grub and pitch his own tent as we are. It makes
me sick to see how that man Haskins waits on him." (Haskins was the one
who had served out clothing to the recruits in Galveston.) "But a blind
man could see what he is working for," added Bristow. "He wants to get
into the good graces of the lieutenant, hoping that he will be
recommended for a non-com's position when we reach the fort. I tell you
I have seen enough of soldiering already, and the very first chance I
get I am going to skip out."

"I'll go with you," said one of the recruits.

"All right! Shake on that."

"You may depend upon me," said the recruit as he grasped Bristow's
proffered hand. "Do you remember that big-whiskered, loud-voiced
rancheman who gave us the potatoes the other night? He is sadly in need
of help, and he told me that if I would come to his house, bringing
three or four friends with me, he would give us citizens' clothes and
hide us until the officers gave up looking for us. All he asked was,
that we should agree to work for him for twelve months, and promise not
to leave without giving him due notice."

"I am in for that," exclaimed the recruit who had not spoken
before.--"What do you say, Owens?"

"I say I am _out_ of it," was the quick reply. "If I did a thing like
that, I never could look a white man in the face again. I have been
guilty of a good many mean acts during my life--some that I would gladly
recall if I could--but I am not mean enough to desert. Besides, I have
no desire to have a bullet sent into me."

Bob's companions did not know whether to be surprised or angry at this
plain speech. They stared hard at him for a moment, and then Bristow
said,

"Are you really afraid of being shot? Well, I can set your fears on that
score at rest. I know that the penalty for desertion in the face of the
enemy is death, but we are not in the face of the enemy now. The country
is at peace."

"I know it is nominally so," answered Bob, "but it is not so in reality,
and never will be so long as these hostile Indians and lawless Mexicans
continue to raid over the Texas border. If you skip out, as yo