s he led him out of earshot of the men, who had seated
themselves about the fire,

"May I have a word with you in private? You see, I am an officer, and it
won't do for me to talk too freely in the presence of those I command."

So saying, Bob led the squatter behind the cabin and began making some
very particular inquiries concerning Bristow and his party: What sort of
looking fellows were they? What did they say? Did they get anything to
eat at the cabin? and did his friend the squatter really think they had
gone toward the old Brazos trail? The man was very uneasy, and seemed
impatient to go back to the fire again; but by holding fast to his arm,
and plying him with such questions as these, Bob managed to keep him
behind the cabin for about five minutes, and that was long enough for
Carey to carry out the orders that had been given him.

As soon as Bob and the squatter disappeared around the corner of the
cabin, Carey put his pipe into his mouth, and, enjoining silence upon
his comrades by shaking his fore finger at them, he quickly mounted the
steps that led to the porch and walked into the cabin. As he did so
there was a faint rustling in one corner of the room, and, looking over
his left shoulder without turning his head, Carey saw a man who was
lying on a rude couch draw a blanket quickly over his face. In his
eagerness to conceal his features the man probably forgot that he had a
pair of feet, for he pulled the blanket up a little too high.

"Aha! my fine lad," said the trooper as he noiselessly opened the
stove-door and looked into it, as if he were searching for a live coal
with which to light his pipe, "I see a pair of No. 12 army brogans, and
also the lower portions of a pair of light blue breeches with a yellow
stripe down the seams. Bryant, my boy, that's you. I see also that this
stove is in perfect order, but as there are no coals in it, I'll have to
get a light at the fire outside."

When Carey came out of the cabin his comrades' faces were full of
inquiry, but the trooper only winked at them and nodded his head, as if
to say that he could tell something that would astonish them if he only
felt so disposed.

By this time dinner was ready, and Loring's loud call of "Coffee!"
brought Bob and the squatter from behind the cabin. The latter accepted
Loring's invitation to drink a cup of coffee with "the boys," but he
disposed of it in great haste, hot as it was, as if he hoped by his
example to induce