t of weakness and distress of mind showing instantly on his brow,
rare symptom in Arizona. And then, while somebody ran up to the post to
summon the adjutant, Case, pressing his hands to his head, began
striding up and down the low-ceilinged, half-darkened room. "Wait," he
said, as Craney and Watts, excited and anxious, would have pressed him
to begin. "Wait. Give me just three fingers," and the whiskey was
handed forthwith. He downed it in two gulps, and presently the color
began to come back to his cheeks, and then Strong came hurrying in. "Is
Mr. Harris still here?--and that other specimen--Mr. Willett?" Case
demanded on the instant. "That's well, anyhow! And the cavalry still
out? That's bad. We want 'em here, _here_, I tell you, and quick, too!
Gentlemen, this is no cock-and-bull story. There's enough Apaches back
of us here in the Mazatzal to head off everybody from Prescott or
McDowell. They've killed three parties--a dozen soldiers, perhaps--already,
and they've cut off Prescott and Date Creek and Sandy, and murdered
every courier that tried to get through. They headed off and killed the
runners sent to find General Crook and give him the news, but worse
than all, they've been down here begging the Sierra Blancas, and the
bands of Deltchay and Eskiminzin--nearly eight hundred they'd make--to
come up here and get between Turner and the post, eat him up in the
canons--he's had a lot killed and wounded already--and then turn on us.
How do I _know_ it?" he demanded, in the midst of his excited harangue.
"Sanchez told me--'Patchie Sanchez, the runner, last night. No--night
before, or _some_ night. Right here, I thought; right here where you
all heard! He said they'd ordered him ironed in Prescott for telling
the truth, and he said the sergeant had orders to flog him with a
bull-whip, and he killed the man that tried to flog him. You mean you
didn't hear this? You didn't know it? You didn't see him?--that I've
been dreaming as well as drunk? By God, drunk or dreaming, it's so! and
that's why Jose Sanchez and the others lit out for McDowell! They were
afraid to stay. 'Patchie says Deltchay and Skim are coming, sure,
whether the Sierra Blancas join or not. All the cavalry are up on the
Black Mesa 'cept Turner's troop, and now's their turn. Call me drunk,
crazy, mad, _anything_ you like, but tell the general what I say! Tell
him to get ready to fight like hell!"

[Illustration: "Keep watch now all around, especially east