pounds of hard bread, filled
his canteen with water which Aunt Martha had filtered through sand,
and asked me to attend to the odometer, and rode off in the darkness.
Don't you really believe the boys will return, sir?"

"God grant they may," I answered; "but it is very doubtful."

Here was fresh trouble--trouble the whole command shared, but which
rested heaviest upon Captain Bayard and myself. We were answerable to
Colonel Burton for the manner in which we executed his trust.

"Ride down the valley," said the captain to me after I had concluded
my account of what Brenda had said, "and look for Lieutenant Hubbell's
camp. It cannot be far from here. Tell him to send me three days'
grain for forty animals. While you are gone I will select a camp
farther down stream, and within easy communication with him, park the
train, and establish order. We will remain here until we know what has
become of the boys."

I found the New Mexican cavalry camp three miles down the river, and
obtained the desired forage. When I returned our new camp was
established, fires burning, and cooking well under way.

Captain Bayard informed me that the detachment of Mexican cavalry
which had accompanied us thus far would leave at this point and not
rejoin us. "I have ordered Baldwin to grain his horses and be ready to
start in search of our boys at daybreak," continued the captain. "You
will accompany him. We shall be in no danger, with Hubbell so near.
You can take thirty pounds of grain on your saddles, and you will find
plenty of water on the Carizo where it breaks from the hills."

"How many days are we to stay out?"

"You are to take five days' rations. If the boys are not found in that
time I fear they will never be found."

I went to bed early, and soon fell into a fitful slumber, which lasted
until an hour before midnight. I arose, dressed, and sat down by the
smouldering camp-fire, a prey to unpleasant reflections.

Suddenly the sound of a cantering horse approaching from the north
fell upon my ears. What could it mean? I listened intently. The horse
slowed down to a walk. He entered the camp. The voice of Private Tom
Clary, who was posted as sentinel No. 1, challenged: "Halt!--who comes
there?"

"A friend--Corporal Frank Burton," was the answer.

"Blest be the saints! Corpril Frank, laddie, is it you--and aloive?"
said the sentinel, forgetting in his joy to continue the usual
formality of the challenge or to call the corporal