lett," said Blackbeard, in the most off-hand manner
imaginable. "Sanchez swears it was Case who shot you, and we're having
him up to explain."

For an instant four men stood watching Willett's face. Pale at almost
any time of late, it seemed to have turned ashen in the pallid light
about them. He swayed, too, a trifle, as though from sudden shock, and
it was a second or two before he found his voice. Then:

"What infernal rot! Didn't they find my own pistol, that 'Tonio had
stolen, where his fellows or he had dropped it in their flight?"

"O, Lord, yes," was the airy answer, "five miles away. But Harris found
the real one, right there at the spot. Case won it from Sanchez just
two days before. So he'll be here with 'Tonio the end of the week."

CHAPTER XXVI.

That week was a bad one for Harold Willett. The general, taking Bright
with him as usual, had whirled away in his stout spring wagon to
supervise the re-establishment of the Indians lately in rebellion. The
agent at the Verde reservation had developed symptoms of stampede that
were later diagnosed and treated as insanity. It must be owned that he
had lived through troublous times and had had experiences to try the
nerve of a man of iron, which he was not. The general, after settling
matters to his satisfaction at the reservation, purposed a descent on
Colonel Pelham and Camp Sandy, for consultation with him and a
conference with the troop and company commanders returned to their
soldier honors, after their strenuous scout through the mountains. He
left Wickham to represent him at headquarters and continue his
investigation, and he left Willett to--recuperate, for already he had
repented him of the impulse that led to the brilliant officer's
appointment on his personal staff. Willett had been a valuable and
distinguished soldier in that northern field, and only by these things
had the general known him. That Willett was a many-sided man, that he
could be an eager and ambitious officer when once afield, and a mere
butterfly about the garrison, had not occurred to this simple-minded
chief. The combination of terrier and lapdog is rare in the army.
However, Willett was not yet fit for field service, and the Gray Fox
meant that he should have fair play and a chance to redeem himself.

"We couldn't send him away just now even if he were fit to ride," said
Wickham confidentially to his brother aide-de-camp. "Dooley's trial
begins presently, and he wants Will