f one, at least, of his former troop
commanders. No coward was Pike, but he had visions of a far-away home
his coming would bless, where a loved sister's children would gather
about his knee and hear his stories of battle and adventure, and where
his dollars would enable him to give comforts and comfits, toys and
"taffee" to her little ones. Was he not conscious that her eldest boy
must be now fourteen, named for him, Martin Pike, and a young American
all through? It must be confessed that as the ex-corporal stood there at
his night post under the stars he half regretted that he had embarked on
this risky enterprise.

"If it were anybody else now but old Gwynne," he muttered to himself,
"things wouldn't be so mixed, but he never did have any horse sense and
now has run us into this scrape--and it's a bad one or I'm no judge."

Then he glanced over his shoulder again. Manuelito was shuffling about
the fire apparently doing nothing. Presently the ex-corporal saw the
Mexican saunter up to the wagons and Pike took several strides through
the timber watching before he said a word; yet, with the instinct of the
old soldier, he brought his carbine to full cock. Somehow or other he
"could not tolerate that greaser."

[Illustration: MANUELITO WAS SHUFFLING ABOUT THE FIRE APPARENTLY DOING
NOTHING.]

But the suspected greaser seemed to content himself with a cursory
examination of the forage and baggage wagon and presently came slouching
back to the fire again. He had some scrap of harness in his hand and
Pike longed to know what, but it was too far from his post of
observation. He decided to remain where he was. He must listen for the
captain. All the same he kept vigilant watch of Manuelito's movements
and ere long, when the fire brightened up a bit, he made out that the
"greaser" was fumbling over nothing else than a side line. Now what did
that mean?

Pike took a turn through the little herd of "stock," bending down and
feeling the side line of each horse and mule. All were secure and in
perfect order. The one in Manuelito's hands, therefore, was probably
"Gregg's," or an extra "pair" that he had in his wagon. There was
nothing out of the way about that after all, so Pike resumed his watch
towards the west, where still the Apache beacon was burning.

It must have been half after ten o'clock. Manuelito had slunk down by
the fire, and not a sound was to be heard except Jim's musical snore,
and a little cropping noise amon