"Apaches!" This in high disdain. "Trash, man! Because one sentry has a
scuffle with some night prowler is the next to lose his nerve? You're
scared by shadows, Hunt. That's what's the matter with you!"
It "brought to" a veteran trooper with a round turn. Hunt had served
his fourth enlistment, had "worn out four blankets" in the regiment,
and was not to be accused of scare.
"Let the major see for himself, then," he answered sturdily. "Come in
here, you!" he called aloud. "Come, the whole gang of ye. The
concert's beginning!" Then, slowly along the eastward edge there began
to creep into view black polls bound with dirty white, black crops
untrammeled by any binding. Then, swift from the west, came running
footfalls, the corporal with a willing comrade or two, wondering was
Five in further danger. There, silent and regretful, stood the post
commander, counting in surprise the score of scarecrow forms now
plainly visible, sitting, standing, or squatting along the mesa
edge. Northernmost in view, nearly opposite Blakely's quarters, were
two, detached from the general assembly, yet clinging close
together--two slender figures, gowned, and it was at these the agent
Daly was staring, as he, too, came running to the spot.
"Major Plume," cried he, panting, "I want those girls arrested, at
once!"