them,
thus putting on that gentleman's intercession a premium that he trusted
would be effective. The Captain being naturally impulsive, the accident
did not improve his temper to any appreciable extent. Besides this, the
matches were wet, and there was no oil in the lamp. Consequently he had
to search for his weapons in the dark. After falling over his bunk and
numberless chairs, and upsetting his field desk, he found his saber and
revolver, only to discover that both, owing to the neglect of that same
sanctified _muchacho_ on the stairs, were covered with rust; that the
cylinder of the revolver would not revolve; and that at least two strong
men and a boy would be required to coax the saber from its scabbard!

All this while the shooting and yelling were going on, and by the time
he splashed out into the rain once more, the good Captain was what is
technically known as "mad as a hornet!" He started on a run to "B"
Troop's quarters, to take command of his men, only to be stopped by a
sentinel, who informed him that "B" Troop was in no mood to be taken
command of, and that he had "bettah go to de guahd-house." Being ordered
to the guard-house by a private did not tend to quiet his state of mind
any, even when the situation was explained. By the time he burst in on
the assembled officers at the post of the guard, Captain North was
madder than ever.

"What the devil is going on here, Bliss? What's this I hear about 'B'
Troop's busting loose? This is a hell of a state of affairs."

"That is just what I think, North, and very neatly expressed," the Major
replied dryly. "Lovely discipline you have in that band of Indians of
yours. They've mutinied, no less, and apparently they have got Perkins.
A nice----"

"Mutinied, have they? Why, the infernal black scoundrels," almost roared
the irate officer, striding up and down the room. "Mutinied, have they?
What the devil do they mean by doing a thing like that without saying
anything to me about it? I'll mutiny 'em! Don't you interfere with me,
Bliss," he continued, halting in his walk, "don't you interfere with me.
This is my troop, and I can handle them. Don't you interfere with me."

"My dear North, no one has shown any inclination to interfere with you,
has he?"

"That's right," and the Captain continued his march, "that's right. I
can attend to these gentlemen. This plan of rushing them, though, is all
wrong, all wrong"; and he stopped again. "They'll fight, fight like t