when the command was divided. Hayne would have been a
junior subaltern in Rayner's little battalion but for that detail, and
it annoyed the captain more seriously than he would confess.

"It is all an outrage and a blunder to pick out a boy like that," he
growls between his set teeth as Hayne canters blithely away. "Here he's
been away from the regiment all summer long, having a big time and
getting head over ears in debt, I hear, and the moment he rejoins they
put him in charge of the wagon-train as field quartermaster. It's
putting a premium on being young and cheeky,--besides absenteeism," he
continues, growing blacker every minute.

"Well, captain," answers his adjutant, injudiciously, "I think you don't
give Hayne credit for coming back on the jump the moment we were ordered
out. It was no fault of his he could not reach us. He took chances _I_
wouldn't take."

"Oh, yes! you kids all swear by Hayne because he's a good fellow and
sings a jolly song and plays the piano--and poker. One of these days
he'll swamp you all, sure as shooting. He's in debt _now_, and it'll
fetch him before you know it. What he needs is to be under a captain who
could discipline him a little. By Jove, I'd do it!" And Rayner's teeth
emphasize the assertion.

The young adjutant thinks it advisable to say nothing that may provoke
further vehemence. All the same, he remembers Rayner's bitterness of
manner, and has abundant cause to.

When the next morning breaks, chill and pallid, a change has come in the
aspect of affairs. During the earliest hour of the dawn the red light of
a light-draught river-boat startled the outlying pickets down-stream,
and the Far West, answering the muffled hail from shore, responded,
through the medium of a mate's stentorian tones, "News that'll rout you
fellows out." The sun is hardly peeping over the jagged outline of the
eastern hills when, with Rayner's entire battalion aboard, she is
steaming again down-stream, with orders to land at the mouth of the
Sweet Root. There the four companies will disembark in readiness to join
the rest of the regiment.

All day long again the wagon-train twists and wriggles through an ashen
section of Les Mauvaises Terres. It is a tedious, trying march for
Hull's little command of troopers,--all that is now left to guard the
train. The captain is constantly out on the exposed flank, eagerly
scanning the rough country to the south, and expectant any moment of an
attack from tha