Barker, through the influence of Captain Banks, had found quarters for his party in a vacant corner of an old warehouse. Other rooms were not procurable and in these secluded quarters, he felt safe from annoying and curious visitors, and from various camp-followers always found in the rear of an army.

He was most anxious to get the boys into Vicksburg and start for home with Tatanka, who had so loyally shared all the dangers and hardships of the long journey.

But how to get into Vicksburg was a puzzle. Securing a pass seemed out of the question and any other way that he could think of looked either impossible or extremely dangerous, because sentinels and patrols of both Grant’s and Pemberton’s armies watched the river day and night.

He feared that in the confusion and excitement of surrender, even if it did come soon, he might fail to find the parents of his boys. Between this anxiety and the possibility of again meeting Hicks, he lay awake, thinking a good part of the night.

The next forenoon the four men from the North accompanied a train of wagons with rations and ammunitions for the soldiers east of Vicksburg.

The boys were again in high spirits. They felt sure that they would soon be at home, and there were so many new things to be seen that they had no time to feel sad. The horrors of war were but little visible, because there had been no active fighting for a month.

Barker, however, walked along in thoughtful silence.

“I must get the lads into town and I must kill or capture Hicks, if we set eyes on him again,” were the thoughts ever in his mind.

About the middle of the forenoon the long line of wagons halted on account of some obstruction ahead. Barker was chatting pleasantly with a number of teamsters, “mule-skinners,” as the soldiers called them. He had told them that he wanted to get the lads into Vicksburg and he had told them about the man, who for some reason, was bound to keep the boys in the North even at the risk of having them killed by the Sioux. The men became much interested, for even the roughest of men are quickly stirred in their sympathy by injustice and cowardly crime.

Three horsemen came slowly along the side of the road. They stopped as they reached the group of teamsters.

The foremost of them dismounted, walked slowly up to Barker, reached out his hand and said with suppressed excitement: “Hello, Barker, I’m glad to see you.”

“Hello, Hicks,” replied the trapper, returning the salute without offering his hand. “I can’t say that I’m glad to see you.”

“Where are the boys?” asked Hicks.

“My boys are back a way,” Barker spoke firmly, the color rising in his cheeks and his gray eyes flashing, “and you and yours aren’t going to touch them.”

Hicks turned white and made a movement as if to draw a pistol.

Without a word from Barker three husky men sprang upon him and several pistols covered the other two men, who were ordered to dismount.

“Search him!” said Barker. “He is the man. I want to know why he wants possession of the boys.”

Hicks tried to tell the lies about kidnapped nephews and stolen horses, but the teamsters shook him into silence.

“Close up,” one of the men ordered. “You’re too late; we know all about you.”

A soiled piece of paper was found on Hicks.

    “The bearer of this,” it read, “is to receive $10,000 if no heirs of Col. Henry P. Deming are found before January first, 1864.

    “John C. Chesterton.”

“What does it mean?” demanded Barker.

“I don’t know,” protested Hicks. “I didn’t know I had the rag and don’t know where it came from.”

“All right!” said the spokesman of the teamsters. “Boys, tie him to that gum-tree.

“Hicks, you have just five minutes to explain that paper and say anything else you may want to say.

“Take a look at your pistols, boys!”

Hicks began to tremble.

“Let me go,” he groaned, “and I’ll tell the truth.”

“Tell the truth!” shouted the men, “and we’ll see.”

“Colonel Deming,” Hicks began, “is the boys’ grandfather. Their mother married against his wishes. He disinherited her, and made a will that Chesterton, a distant relative, should fall heir to the Deming plantation, which is very valuable, if no children of his daughter were found before January 1st, 1864.

“Chesterton learned about the two lads and hired me to keep the two boys out of sight. I didn’t mean to harm them.”

“Like blazes you didn’t!” cried the spokesman. “You deserted them when the Indians broke out.

“Boys, get a rope; the fellow is too rank rotten for our bullets!”

An officer with a patrol came along and inquired what all the row was about, and the teamsters told him the story, which was corroborated by Barker.

“I don’t want him hanged,” Barker added, “but I don’t want to see his face again.

“Hicks,” he spoke calmly, turning to the prisoner, “I’ll shoot you on sight, if you ever cross my trail again!”

The officer thought a minute.

“Let him go, men,” he decided. “Don’t soil your hands on him.

“Here,” he ordered two soldiers, “take him out of our lines to that open field. He is to trot straight for the timber east. If he stops running, you shoot him.

“Hicks, if you ever show your face inside our lines again, we’ll find a tree for you pretty quick. March!

“My regiment can make good use of these three ho............