"I ain't so very dern tired, an' reckon I'll scout
'round a bit. Them red devils might'r overlooked a rifle er two back
thar in the timber, an' I'd sure like ter git my fingers on one."

I nodded indifferently, too completely exhausted myself to care what he
did, and then dull-eyed watched him disappear through the trees. No
one spoke, even Eloise failing to question me, as I approached where
she and Elsie had flung themselves on the short grass, although her
heavy eyes followed my movement, and she made an effort to smile.

"One can easily see by your face how tired you are," I said,
compassionately, looking kindly down at her. "I am going to sleep for
an hour or two, and you had both better do the same. Tim is going to
keep guard."

She smiled wearily at me, her head sinking back. I did not move, or
speak again; indeed I had lost consciousness almost before I touched
the ground.

I could not have slept long, for there was a glow of light still
visible in the western sky, when a strong grip on my arm aroused me,
causing me instantly to sit up. Tim stood there, a battered, old, long
rifle in his hand, and beside him a boy of eighteen, without a hat,
tousled headed, with an ugly red wound showing on one cheek.

"Mighty sorry fer ter wake ye, Cap," the deputy grinned. "This yere
young chap is one o' them sojers; an' it strikes me, he's got a damn
queer tale ter tell."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE VALLEY OF THE BUREAU

I glanced backward across my shoulder toward the others. Both girls
were sleeping soundly, while beyond them, down the slope, the three
horses were quietly cropping away at the herbage. I managed to rise.

"Let's move back to the spring, where we will not wake them up," I
suggested. "Now we can talk."

My eyes sought the face of the lad questioningly. He was a
loose-lipped, awkward lout, trembling still from a fright he could not
conceal.

"You belonged to that squad killed out yonder?"

"Yes, seh; I reckon I'se the only one whut ain't ded," he stammered, so
tongue-tied I could scarcely make out his words. "I wus gone after
wahter, an' when them Injuns begun fer ter yell, I never dun nuthin'
but just run, an' hid in the bush."

"But you are wounded?"

He put a red hand to his face, touching it gingerly.

"I dun got racked with a branch; I wus thet skeered I just cudn't see
nuthin', seh."

"I understand. What is your name?"

"Asa Hall."

"Well, Asa, I suppose those were mili