At the door Lieutenant Parker found the officer who was acting as commissary of the post waiting for him.

“I have not picked out your men yet,” said he. “I didn’t know but you had some men in your own company you would be glad to have along with you.”

“I have indeed,” said the lieutenant. “I would be obliged to you if you would let Sergeant Leeds go with the hunters to take command of them. As for the two corporals, Mason and Smith will do as well as anybody. As for the hunters——”

He thought for a moment, and then named over twelve of the best shots in the company whom he would like to have with him, and then hastened off to get his hunting equipments together and to saddle his horse, for be it known that it was against the law for Page 15 an officer to hire an enlisted man to take care of his stock. He was obliged to act as his own servant or his work would not be done. He ran into his own room, where Lieutenant Randolph was lying on the bed reading a novel, and began taking his Winchester down from the pegs on which it had hung for so long a time.

“Come here, old fellow,” said he gleefully. “We are going to see what you can do now. If you don’t shoot everything you are pointed at——”

“Has the colonel given you permission to go hunting?” asked the lieutenant in surprise.

“Yes, sir. He sent for me on purpose to tell me to go to the foothills and shoot some big game for the post,” said Parker. “I guess those Pawnee gluttons must be pretty nearly out.”

“Now I don’t see why it is that I don’t get an invitation to go on such an expedition as this,” said Lieutenant Randolph, flinging his book across the room and stretching himself out with his hands under his head. “I have always tried to be a good and loyal soldier of the Republic——”

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“Always?” said Parker, with a sly look at his companion. “When you appeared on dress parade with your horse’s legs covered with dust, and your necktie all adrift instead of being tied up as it ought to be, did you think you were setting a proper example to the men?”

“But the colonel did not say anything about it.”

“No, but the captain did, and of course the colonel knew it. The captain gave you something of a blessing, too, judging by the looks your face wore when you came into this room.”

Lieutenant Randolph did not say anything, for he knew it was all true. They were just as strict in the army where there were no visitors to see them as they were at West Point. He had come out there to join the —th Cavalry at the same time Parker did, and his room-mate ranked him just about five minutes; that is, Parker’s appointment was signed before Randolph’s was. But the same habits that clung to him at West Point followed him here. He was just a moment too Page 17 late for everything, and the colonel thought that keeping him in while the other officers were allowed privileges would in time cure him of his bad habits. He lay on his bed and watched Parker while he filled his belt with cartridges and hastily put some extra clothes into a small valise which he intended to take with him, and then he went out to saddle his horse.

By the time Lieutenant Parker emerged from the stable the expedition was ready to start. The drivers were in their seats on the wagons, and the twelve hunters, with Sergeant Leeds at their head, were waiting for him. Carl, the Trailer, was there, superbly mounted, and when Lieutenant Parker led his horse up, he surveyed the animal with rather a critical eye. The conclusion he came to was not very favorable to Parker’s Kentucky thoroughbred. He said to himself that if the two horses were ever put into a race he was sure that his own mustang would win every time.

Parker’s rifle and valise were on the porch, and it did not take him long to deposit them in one of the wagons; then he saluted his superiors, Page 18 several of whom had gathered on the steps beside the colonel to witness his departure, kissed his hand to some of the second lieutenants, and swung himself into the saddle. “Forward!” said the sergeant, and in a few minutes more the little train had passed through the gate and wended its way toward the foothills, which lay all of thirty miles away. Then Parker turned his attention to Carl, the Trailer, who rode by his side in the rear of the wagons.

If he was an object worthy of admiration to Lieutenant Parker while he was afoot, he demanded extra admiration now that he was on horseback. His sombrero sat jauntily over his long, curly hair, his Winchester was confined by a strap at his back, leaving his hands, which were protected by gauntlet gloves, free to manage his horse, and the face he turned toward Lieutenant Parker was as handsome as a girl’s. The two boys looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then the lieutenant said:

“You seem rather young to go on an expedition like this.”

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“And so do you,” returned Carl. “When the colonel sent for me I had made up my mind to do something desperate. I was sure he was going to send me to Fort Yates with dispatches; but when I found that he was going to send me out after game—why, I thought he would send a man with me; that’s all.”

“Then I don’t suppose I shall fill the bill,” said Parker, modestly. “I lack some years yet of being a man. What do you expect me to do while you fellows are hunting?”

“Oh, you will loaf around the camp bossing the job, eat more than your share of the grub, and when we get back to the fort you will brag as loudly as though you had done something. If we should accidentally kill a bear, you would appropriate the hide and proudly exhibit it as your own. That is the way the young officers always do.”

“Then you have had some experience with them?”

“Certainly. I remember shooting a bull elk while out once with a second lieutenant, who offered me twenty-five dollars if I would say that he killed the elk himself. You know the man. You have seen him every day.”

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“I cannot think who you refer to, for I don’t know of any officer who has got a pair of antlers in his room.”

“Oh, he has sent them home.”

“Then I am glad I don’t know him, and I shall make no effort to find him out.”

Carl, the Trailer, looked at Parker with a smile of disbelief on his face.

“I mean it,” said the lieutenant earnestly. “I should not care to associate with any man who could tell a lie like that.”

“Maybe the colonel knows it, and that was the reason he selected you to command this expedition.”

“I don’t know why he selected me unless it was because I have always tried to do my duty. This is his way of telling a young officer that he is satisfied with him. Would you mind telling me how you came by your odd name—Carl, the Trailer?” added Parker, who was anxious to change the subject of the conversation.

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“It was nothing at all, only just because I happened to do my business as I ought to have done it,” said Carl, “although I felt proud of it at the time I did it.”

With this he threw his leg over the pommel of his saddle, produced a well-worn brier-root from his pocket, and proceeded to fill up for a smoke. When he had got his pipe fairly lighted he went on with his story something in this way:

It all happened a few years ago, when Carl was, as he considered himself, a little boy. He was the only scout at the fort, and it became necessary to send some dispatches to Fort Belknap. The fort was just on the outskirts of the Comanche country, and they were pretty hostile, and felt exceedingly vindictive toward anybody with white blood in their veins. Carl did not know much about the country, having never been down there but once, but he knew how to trail Indians. In fact, he could not remember the time when he couldn’t do it. On the way he fell in with a troop of soldiers who were out punishing the savages for some outrage they had committed Page 22 on the settlers, and as they were journeying toward the fort he kept company with them, and he never regretted it but once in his life. The company were all green; not even the officers had ever been out after Indians before, and Carl did not know why it was that the Indians did not make an assault upon them. The Indians were all around them; they could not help but see them, for they were on the summit of high swells looking at the troops, and at night they took extra pains to make a camp where they thought no Indians could surprise them.

Carl interrupted himself right here to say that if there was anybody on earth who could beat a Comanche in stealing horses, he had yet to hear of him. He would go inside a camp that was double guarded, get away with the best horse that could be found, and nobody would be the wiser for it until morning, by which time the Comanche would be so far away, and cover up his trail no nicely, that pursuit was impossible. When the time came for the soldiers to go to bed, he brought his horse in from the stable-lines and made his Page 23 lariat fast to his wrist. Then he would go to sleep, knowing that if any Indians came about, his horse would be certain to awaken him. They always had extra sentries out, and Carl felt perfectly safe.

One night, after the guide had been with the soldiers about three or four days, he was awakened about twelve o’clock by a terrible hubbub in camp. He started up and grabbed his lariat, and found that his horse was safe; but that was more than a dozen men could tell, all owning the best stock, too. A good many men had followed his example and tied their horses fast to them, but every one of them found his lariat cut and his horse gone. Of course those Comanches must be overtaken and punished for stealing their horses, but it seemed that Carl was the only one in camp who knew how to follow the trail. The commanding officer did not know it until he told him. When daylight came half the soldiers were out examining the trails, and they all led away in different directions.

“It is of no use, men,” said the captain. “The trails branch out every which way, and Page 24 those of us who have lost our horses will have to go to the fort on foot.”

That was the time for Carl to make known one of his accomplishments.

“Captain,” said he, “I can lead the men in three days to the place where these trails will all come together again.”

The captain looked at him in surprise, and during that time he surveyed him from head to foot. No doubt he thought that, for one of his years, he was talking a little too big; but after thinking a moment he ordered breakfast got ready and told the guide to go ahead.

“You say you have lived on the plains all your life,” said he. “Then you must have seen Indian trails before. Be sure you don’t disappoint me now.”

Breakfast over, the cavalcade started, and for the first fifty miles Carl never followed a single trail. He kept right ahead toward a prominent butte that could be seen in the distance, and the captain, although he did not put much faith in him, allowed him to do as he pleased. The soldiers camped that night—and a sorry camp it was, too; they had no Page 25 fire to cook their grub by, and, worse than all, the boys had to do without a smoke—and about nine o’clock the next morning the guide found first one trail and then another, until he counted the tracks of a dozen shod horses. Carl looked at the captain, who reached over and shook hands with him.

“You see he was green,” said Carl in an attempt to shield the captain. “He learned something during the time he was out with me, and when I came to go with him a second time he did not ask any help. He could follow the trail himself.”

“In two days from now, if nothing happens to prevent, you will have the satisfaction of shooting at the Indians who stole your horses,” said the guide.

A little before dark, while they were riding swiftly along a rocky trail that here ran through a gorge, Carl looked down and happened to see something that brought him to a standstill. He dismounted, and found that the dirt had been thrown up and stones placed upon it to hide it from curious eyes. He threw aside the stones and began investigating Page 26 with his sheath knife, the soldiers all standing around and wondering what he was looking for. A few prods with the knife, and Carl unearthed the horseshoes which had been removed by the Indians so that they could not be followed so easily.

“This beats me,” said the captain. “How did you know that the shoes were there?”

“I just saw it,” answered the guide. “When one is following a trail he must keep his eyes about him. I don’t suppose you know that there is an Indian watching us over the summit of that swell, do you?”

The captain was profoundly amazed. He looked in every direction except the right one, but could see nothing.