hat he heard nothing of his
brother and his cousin.

The fact that he stirred up no game nettled him, and he pushed on,
determined to bring down something before he went back.

Suddenly he espied something moving in the patch of wood ahead of him.
Rifle in hand, he moved cautiously in the direction.

As he did this, a man glided out from the bushes to his right and
followed him as silently as a shadow.

The man was Gus Fetter. The desperado was fully armed, and his face was
black with hatred of the young army officer.

As the wood was gained, Captain Moore paused to locate the object he had
seen.

But before he could do this, he was caught from behind and his rifle was
wrenched from his grasp.

"Fetter!" he ejaculated, as he caught sight of the desperado.

"Up with your hands, Captain Moore!" growled the rascal savagely. "Up, I
say! I've got the drop on you!"

Fetter had thrown the captain's rifle to the ground, and now stood upon
it. In his hands he held his own weapon, and the muzzle was aimed at the
young officer's head.

Realizing that discretion was the better part of valor, Captain Moore
threw up his hands promptly, at which the desperado grinned wickedly.

"Where did you come from, Fetter?" demanded the captain.

"From not far away, captain."

"What do you mean by treating a United States army officer in this
fashion?"

"I've got a score to settle with you, captain. Don't forget that."

"Are the rest of the gang around?"

"They are."

Following his last words, Gus Fetter gave a long, clear whistle,
followed by two shorter ones. At once an answer came back from the
woods, and in a few seconds Matt Gilroy appeared.

"Hullo, so you've got him," sang out the leader of the desperadoes. "A
good haul. How are you, Captain Moore? Delighted to see me, I suppose."

"Not at all glad to meet you--considering the circumstances," answered
the young officer, trying to keep cool, although he realized that he was
in a dangerous situation.

"Well, you're honest about it, anyway," said Gilroy with a brutal laugh.

"Have you been following our party?"

"You had better not ask too many questions, captain."

By this time Potts and two other men were coming up. One of the latter
carried his left arm in a sling. Captain Moore's recognized him as a
fellow who had been wounded in the raid on the quartermaster's party.

The desperadoes consulted among themselves for a few minutes, and then
Captain Moore was o