ful of his detached battalion, the colonel
had presently despatched three or four of these welcome loads, well
guarded, down the winding river in search of Warren, with instructions
to bivouac at once and feast, and at nightfall they had met him, halted
at the river after the luckless pursuit. The wagons were unloaded on the
spot, and two of them pushed on out to meet Calvert, and be loaded up
again with his exhausted plodders, while scouts, mounted on the draught
mules that had had so long and hard a pull all day, and yet were
stronger and fresher than the starving horses, were sent on down-stream
in search of Devers. With these latter went a pencilled note from the
battalion commander as follows:

"Rations here in plenty. Unless you and Davies are used up, you'd better
come along to camp. We'll keep bright fires burning to guide you. I
presume you've seen no Indians, or we'd have heard from you before
now."

In sending this letter Major Warren assumed two things: first, that
Devers had carried out his orders, crossed the long spur that jutted
down almost to the stream at its deep concave bend, and then, moving
south, had kept Davies in sight, if not actually in touch. Second, that
Davies had carried out his orders, investigated the fire, and then
rejoined his captain. For, reasoned the major, had Davies been attacked,
Devers would have known it, supported him at once, and sent word to us.
Men instructed to watch for signals from the ridge had reported that
nothing had been seen, which surely would not have been the case had
Devers desired to communicate. He assumed further that Davies must now
be somewhere about the point where the spur sank to the general level of
the valley, some eight or nine miles down-stream, too far to send a
wagon in the dark where there was no road, but not too far for men to
march, with rations as their reward.

"Ride straight for that point," said he to the sergeant who was to carry
the note, "and watch for their fires in case they have camped." And the
sergeant and his companions--two wiry troopers whom nothing seemed to
daunt or tire--had ridden away on their ambling mules, their own
stomachs warmed with hot coffee and bread and bacon, and their soldier
maws crammed with that most beneficent and comforting of frontier
luxuries,--navy plug. What was a night ride after their weeks of
marching to the joy of being first to announce full rations for all
hands! They had gone only half-way, pe