"Come on, then. I want to ask you about that trail to Crittenden as we
ride. We make first for the Picacho Pass from here."

"Why, that's south of west, sir," answered Bland. "I had thought
perhaps the lieutenant would want to go northward towards the Gila to
head off any parties of the Apaches that might be striving to get away
eastward with their booty. They must have picked up something over at
the Bend."

"They're more likely to go southward, Bland, for they know where we've
been scouting all the week. No, I'll march straight to the signal.
There they must know where the Indians have gone."

"Ay, ay, sir, but then you can only pursue, and a stern chase is a
long one."

Drummond turned in saddle as they rode forth upon the dark _falda_
and gazed long and fixedly at the trooper by his side. Imperturbably
Bland continued to look straight ahead. Queer stories had been afloat
regarding this new acquisition. He mingled but little with the men. He
affected rather the society of the better class of non-commissioned
officers, an offence not likely to be condoned in a recruit. He was
already distinguished for his easy mastery of every detail of a
cavalryman's duty, and for his readiness to go at any or all times on
scout, escort, or patrol, and the more hazardous or lonely the task
the better he seemed to like it. Then he was helpful about the offices
in garrison, wrote a neat hand, was often pressed into service to aid
with the quartermaster or commissary papers, and had been offered
permanent daily duty as company clerk, but begged off, saying he loved