brush. Even as he looked, there came a puff of smoke, followed by the
evil song of a bullet. My hero's hat was carried away. He wheeled,
dug his heels into his horse, and cut back over the trail. There came
a second flash, a shock, and then a terrible pain in the calf of his
left leg. He fell over the neck of his horse to escape the third
bullet. He could see the Apache as he stood out from behind the bush.
Warburton yanked out his Colt and let fly. He heard a yell. It was
very comforting. That was all he remembered of the skirmish.

For five weeks he languished in the hospital. During that time he
came to the conclusion that he had had enough of military life in the
West. He applied for his discharge, as the compulsory term of service
was at an end. When his papers came he was able to get about with the
aid of a crutch. One morning his colonel entered his subaltern's
bachelor quarters.

"Wouldn't you rather have a year's leave of absence, than quit
altogether, Warburton?"

"A year's leave of absence?" cried the
invalid, "I am likely to get that, I am."

"If you held a responsible position I dare say it would be difficult.
As it is, I may say that I can obtain it for you. It will be months
before you can ride a horse with that leg."

"I thank you, Colonel Raleigh, but I think I'll resign. In fact, I
have resigned."

"We can withdraw that, if you but say the word. I don't want to lose