one of them was saying, "and
shoot him from behind. He'll never have a chance."

Without a word to me, White hurried into the hotel and got behind the
door. Presently the two men entered, both with drawn revolvers. But
before they could raise them White covered them with his own weapon and
commanded them sternly to throw up their hands, an order with which
they instantly complied after one look at his face.

I wheeled at the order, and recognized his two captives as the men I
was looking for, a pair of horse-thieves and murderers whom I had been
sent to apprehend. My revolvers were put into instant requisition, and
I kept them covered while White removed the guns with which they had
expected to put me out of their way.

With White's help I conducted these gentlemen forty miles back to the
sheriff's office, and they walked every step of the way. Each of them
got ten years in the penitentiary as soon as they could be tried. They
either forgave me or forgot me when they got out, for I never heard of
either of them again.

In the campaign of 1876 I secured employment for White as a scout. He
was with me when Terry and Crook's commands separated on the
Yellowstone. By this time he had come to copy my gait, my dress, my
speech, and even my fashion of wearing my hair down on my shoulders,
though mine at that time was brown, and his was white as the driven
snow.

We were making a raid on an Indian village, which was peopled with very
lively and very belligerent savages. I had given White an old red-lined
coat, one which I had worn conspicuously in a number of battles, and
which the Indians had marked as a special target on that account.

A party of Indians had been driven from among the lodges into a narrow
gorge, and some of the soldiers, among them Captain Charles King, had
gone after them. As they were proceeding cautiously, keeping tinder
cover as much as possible, King observed White creeping along the
opposite bluff, rifle in hand, looking for a chance at the savages
huddled below, and hoping to distract their fire so they would do as
little damage as possible to the soldiers who were closing in on them.

White crawled along on all-fours till he reached a stunted tree on the
brim of the ravine. There he halted, brought his rifle to his shoulder
in readiness to aim and raised himself slowly to his feet. He was about
to fire, when one of the Indians in the hole below spotted the
red-lined coat. There was a crack, a