st in
wonder, "what report have you to make?"

"I have the honor, sir, to report my entire success," was Bob's reply;
"I've got them all."

"Where are they now?"

"On the parade, under guard, sir."

"Very good. Keep them there until further orders. Tell the officer of
the day I want to see him."

George thought this was rather hard. Bob had risked his life and
displayed most commendable zeal and ability in carrying out the
colonel's orders, and now the latter dismissed him without one single
word to indicate that he appreciated his services. Why did he not
question the corporal in regard to the manner in which the capture of
the deserters had been effected, and reward him for his gallantry by
making him a sergeant on the spot? That was what George thought _he_
would have done if he had been commandant of the post, and he then and
there resolved that a full history of Bob's exploit should be laid
before the colonel before he went to sleep that night.

CHAPTER VIII.

GEORGE AT THE FORT.

"Colonel, that young fellow has had a very hard time of it," said George
when Bob had closed the door behind him.

"I expected it," replied the officer carelessly. "It is a wonder to me
that the deserters didn't kill him, for there were some hard characters
among them and they were well armed."

This remark would seem to indicate that the colonel was a most unfeeling
man, and that he did not set much if any value upon the life of a
non-commissioned officer; but such was not really the case. When he was
a subaltern his superiors had often assigned to him some very hazardous
undertakings, and when he attained to a rank that entitled him to a
command he sent others into danger and thought nothing of it. A
soldier's first and last duty was to obey any orders he might receive,
and if he lost his life while in the act of executing those orders,
why, it was nothing more than might be expected.

"They did try to kill him," said George. "Didn't you notice that hole in
the breast of his coat?"

"I did, and I thought it looked as though it had been made by a bullet."

"So it was. Bristow shot at him. He wanted to be revenged on Bob for
telling you about those thirty men who tried to desert some time ago,
and if he had been a little better marksman you would have been put to
the trouble of appointing a new corporal in the place of as brave a boy
as ever swung a sabre."

"Why, George," exclaimed the colonel, becoming interes