the halter and set out. The troopers, who
had assembled at the gate to see him go, cheered him lustily as he rode
through their ranks, and George carried away with him the assurance that
their feelings toward him were very unlike those with which they had
regarded him when he first made his appearance at the fort.

Sergeant Owens never lost the position he held in the estimation of both
officers and men. He did his duty faithfully, never squandered a cent of
his pay at the sutler's store, and at last had the satisfaction of
telling himself that he had refunded every cent of the _Mail Carrier's_
money, interest included. He kept up a regular correspondence with his
father, who told him he was proud of the record he had won, and said
everything he could to encourage him. One thing that pleased Bob was the
knowledge of the fact that everybody in and about Rochdale was familiar
with his history. They knew just what he had done when the steamer Sam
Kendall was burned, and the particulars of his exploit on the Staked
Plains had been published in the papers. He would go home a hero,
instead of sneaking back like a thief in the night; and that is
something that runaway boys don't often do.

George Ackerman was glad to get back to his ranche again. He thoroughly
enjoyed the quiet life he led there, it was so different from the life
of bustle and excitement he had led at the fort. One bright moonlight
night, while he was pacing up and down the porch, thinking over old
times, and wondering what Bob Owens and the rest of the boys were doing
at the fort, he was aroused from the reverie into which he had fallen by
the sound of horses' hoofs on the trail. He stopped abruptly, and after
listening a moment heard the clanking of sabres mingling with the sound
of the horses' feet. Greatly surprised, George descended the steps, and
walking out to the trail discovered a long line of horsemen approaching.
There was no need that he should ask who they were or where they came
from, for as soon as they saw him they greeted him vociferously. They
were troopers from Fort Lamoine. They rode on past the ranche, but two
men who were riding at the head of the column turned off and came up to
him. One was Mr. Gilbert and the other was Captain Clinton.

"Why, captain," exclaimed George, "this is an unexpected pleasure. May I
ask where you are going? You'll not march any farther to-night?"

"No, we're not going any farther," was the answer. "I was ab