"Oh, is that you, Sergeant Wing? I ought to have known you were here.
I'm Ned Harvey." And the taller horseman held out a hand, which Wing
grasped and shook with cordial fervor.

"Which way, Mr. Harvey, and who are with you?"

"Home to Tucson. My sisters are in the Concord behind us, going to
visit the old folks for a few weeks before their trip to Cuba."

"You don't tell me!" exclaimed Wing. "They're the first ladies to pass
through here since I came on duty at the station two months ago. You
stay at Moreno's, I suppose?"

"Yes; the governor meets us there with relays and four or five men. We
knew there would be no danger west of the Santa Maria."

"W-e-ll,--did you stop at Ceralvo's or see any of their people?"

"No, I never put in there. Father's very suspicious of that gang. Why
do you ask, though?"

Wing hesitated. "There was some story afloat about Apaches," he
finally said. "The paymaster's escort threw off a detachment towards
the Gila this morning, and I sent one of my two men back to Ceralvo's
to inquire. You must have met him."

"No, we made a circuit,--came by the old trail around the head of the
slough. We haven't passed anybody, have we, Tony?" he asked of the
silent horseman by his side.