under the midnight sky, misty pale and dusted with glittering stars, the little shelter tents of landor's command shone in white rows. the campfires were dying; the herd, under guard, was turned out half a mile or more away on a low mesa, where there was scant grazing; and the men, come that afternoon into camp, were sleeping heavily, after a march of some forty miles,—all save the sentry, who marched up and down, glancing from time to time at the moving shadows of the herd, or taking a sight along his carbine at some lank coyote scudding across the open.

but presently he saw, coming from down the road, two larger bodies, which showed themselves soon, in the light of the stars against the sands, to be a pair of horsemen and evidently no apaches. he watched them. they rode straight up to the camp and answered his challenge. they wished, they said, to speak to the officer in command.

the sentry was of the opinion that it was an unseemly hour to arouse a man who had marched all day, but it was not for him to argue. he walked deliberately, very deliberately indeed, that the citizens might be impressed, over to landor's tent and awoke him. "there's two citizens here, sir, asking to see you,[pg 111] sir." his tone plainly disclaimed any part in the affair.

landor came out, putting on his blouse, and went over to the horsemen. one of them dismounted and raised his hat.

"my name, sir, is foster."

landor expressed pleasure, without loss of words.

"i represent, sir, the citizens of san tomaso."

"yes?" said landor. he knew the citizens of the district, and attached no particular sacredness to the person of their envoy.

"they have expressed the desire that i should convey to you, colonel—"

"i am captain—captain landor."

"captain landor," he corrected urbanely, "pleased to meet you, sir. they have expressed the desire that i should convey to you, sir, their wish to accompany you in the search for hostile apaches."

that was evidently how it was to go into the papers. the officer knew it well enough, but he explained with due solemnity that he was acting under instructions, and was not to follow indians into the hills. "i am only to camp here to protect the citizens of the valley against possible raids."

the civilian protested. "but there is a big company of us, sir, thirty or thirty-five, who can put you on the trail of a large band."

landor explained again, with greater detail, vainly trying to impress the nature of a military order on the civilian brain. "it would not do for me to disobey my[pg 112] instructions. and besides there are several officers who are to follow trails, out with larger commands. i have no pack-train, and i can't."

it did not seem to strike the representative of the citizens of san tomaso that that was much of an argument. he continued to urge.

"of course," said the officer, "i understand that the hostiles are not in the immediate vicinity?"

"well, not in the immediate vicinity," he admitted. "no; but they passed along the foot-hills, and stole some stock, an' killed three men no later than this evening."

"say we were to get off at sun-up, then," objected landor, "they would even in that way have twelve hours' start of us."

"yes, sir. but they ain't likely to travel fast. they'll think themselves safe enough up there in the mountains. we could easy overtake them, being as we wouldn't be hampered with drove stock. they stole about fifty head, an' we could most likely get it back if we started at once. it is the wish of the citizens of san tomaso, ain't it?" he turned to the man who had remained mounted, and who had not opened his mouth. the man nodded.

"i couldn't follow more than two days," landor expostulated hopelessly. "as i tell you, i've no pack-train. the men would have to carry their rations in their saddle pockets."

foster hastened to assure him that two days would easily do it. "we know the country round here, [pg 113]colonel, know it better than the hostiles themselves; and a big party of us volunteers to put you on the trail and bring you to them. you can't hardly refuse, seein' as you say you are here to protect us, and this is the protection we ask, to get back the stock we've lost."

landor stood considering and pulling at his mustache, as his way was. then he turned on his heel and went back to the tent for brewster. he explained the matter to him. "i tell mr. foster," he said, "just what risk i would take if i acted contrary to orders, but the force of my argument doesn't seem to strike him. if any harm were to come to the citizens around here, i'd be responsible."

"you won't, i don't guess, if it was the citizens' own wish," insisted the indomitable one. "you wouldn't be gone more than two days at the outside. and a big party of us will go with you."

"how many did you say?" he wanted to know, having the laudable intention of committing the man before brewster.

and foster answered him that there would be thirty or forty.

was he quite certain that the trail was of hostiles, and not of cow-boys or of other troops?

"certain, dead sure. it's a band of apaches that went across the river. why, half a dozen seen them."

landor consulted with his lieutenant. "very well," he said in the end, "i'll go. i take serious risks, but i understand it to be the wish of the citizens hereabouts."[pg 114] their envoy assured him that it most certainly was, and became profuse in acknowledgments; so that landor shut him off. he had come many miles that day and must be on the march again at dawn, and wanted what sleep he could get. "when and where will you meet me?" he demanded with the curtness of the military, so offensive to the undisciplined.

"at eight o'clock, sir," he answered resentfully, "in front of the dry-goods store on the main street. if that is convenient for your men."

"that will do," said landor. "see there is no delay," and he wheeled about and went back to his tent with brewster.

the citizens rode off.

"they won't be ready. no use making haste, captain," cairness suggested at daybreak, as landor hurried the breakfast and saddling. they knew that the chances were ten to one that it would be a wild goose chase, and the captain already repented him. but at seven the men were mounted, with two days' rations in their saddle bags, and trotting across the flat in the fragrance of the yet unheated day, to the settlement of san tomaso.

two aimless citizens lounged on their horses, rapt in argument and the heavy labor of chewing—so much so that they barely took notice of the troops.

landor rode up to them and made inquiries for foster.

"foster?" one drawled, "he'll be along presently, i reckon."

[pg 115]

landor went back to his command and waited. another man rode up and joined the two. ten minutes passed, and the troops grew restless.

landor went forward again. "can you, gentlemen, tell me," he demanded a trifle wrathfully, "where i can find mr. foster?" they reckoned, after deliberation, that he might be in bob's saloon. which might bob's saloon be? the man pointed, hooking his thumb over his shoulder, and went on with his conversation and his quid. a dozen or more loafers, chiefly mexicans, had congregated in front of the dry-goods store.

landor rode over to bob's place, and giving his horse to the trumpeter, strode in. there were eight men around the bar, all in campaign outfit, and all in various stages of intoxication. foster was effusive. he was glad to see the general. general landor, these were the gentlemen who had volunteered to assist uncle sam. he presented them singly, and invited landor to drink. the refusal was both curt and ungracious. "if we are to overtake the hostiles, we have got to start at once," he suggested.

but it was full two hours, in the end, before they did start. flasks had to be replenished, farewell drinks taken, wives and families parted from, the last behests made, of those going upon an errand of death. citizens burning with ardor to protect their hearths and stock were routed out of saloons and dance halls, only to slip away again upon one pretext or another.

the sun was now high and blazing down into the one street of the mud settlement. the enlisted men[pg 116] were angry that landor, fearing they, too, would be led astray into dives, would not dismount them. sitting still in the full sun, when even in the shade the mercury is many degrees above the hundreds, is not calculated to improve the disposition. but at length the volunteers were herded together. the thirty-five promised had dwindled to eight, and foster was not of the number. he came lurching up at the last moment to explain that he would be unable to go. his wife was in hysterics, he said.

so the troops and the volunteers rode away without him, and a few miles off, among the foot-hills, struck the trail. here landor, giving ear to the advice of the citizens, found himself whirled around in a very torrent of conflicting opinions. no two agreed. the liquor had made them ugly. he dismounted the command for rest, and waited, filled with great wrath.

"i ought to have known better than to come at all," he told brewster, as they stood beside their horses; "it is always like this."

brewster nodded. he had seen the same thing himself. the territorial citizen was a known quantity to both of them.

cairness came up. "are we going into camp, captain?" he wanted to know, "or are those fellows going to follow the trail?"

landor took his arm from the saddle and stood upright, determinedly. "we are going to stop this mob business, that's what we are going to do," he said, and he went forward and joined in a discussion that was[pg 117] upon the verge of six-shooters. he set forth in measured tones, and words that reverberated with the restrained indignation behind them, that he had come upon the assurance that he was to strike indians, that his men had but two days' rations in their saddle bags, and that he was acting upon his own responsibility, practically in disobedience of orders. if the indians were to be hit, it must be done in a hurry, and he must get back to the settlements. he held up his hands to check a flood of protests and explanations. "there has got to be a head to this," his drill-trained voice rang out, "and i propose to be that head. my orders have got to be obeyed."

there was a murmur. they had elected a captain of their own; they were indian fighters of experience themselves.

landor suggested his own experience of close on two decades, and further that he was going to command the whole outfit, or going to go back and drop the thing right there. they assented to the first alternative, with exceedingly bad grace, and with worse grace took the place of advance guard he detailed them to, four hundred yards ahead. "you know the country. you are my guides, and you say you are going to lead me to the indians. now do it." there was nothing conciliating in his speech, whatever, and he sat on his horse, pointing them to their positions with arm outstretched, and the frown of an offended jove. when they had taken it, grumbling, the column moved.

"it's only a small trail, anyway," cairness informed[pg 118] them as a result of a minute examination he had made, walking round and leading his bronco, bending double over the signs, "just some raiding party of twelve or fifteen bucks. shot out from the main body and ran into the settlements to steal stock probably."

landor agreed with him, "i told the citizens so, but they knew better."

"they are travelling rapidly, of course. we shan't overtake them."

"i dare say not," said landor, his face growing black again; "they'll cover fifty or seventy-five miles a day. we can't do that, by a good deal. we couldn't even if those damned civilians would keep their distance ahead."

but this the civilians were very plainly not minded to do. they dropped back, now to cinch up, now to take a drink from the flasks, now to argue, once for one of their number to recover from an attack of heart disease.

landor swore. he would keep them their proper distance ahead, if he had to halt at all their halts from now to sunset.

they were high among the mountains, and here and there in the shadows of the rocks and pines were patches of snow, left even yet from the winter. by all the signs the trail was already more than half a day old.

landor's fear of leaving the settlements unguarded grew. "we will get up among these mountains and be delayed, and we are in no condition whatever to travel, anyway," he told brewster, as the advance[pg 119] guard halted again, and landor, with curses in his heart but a civil tongue withal, trotted up to them.

they were fighting. "captain, what do you say to following this trail?" they clamored.

landor explained to them that he was not doing the thinking, that it was their campaign. "you are my guides. you know the country, and i don't." he reminded them again that they had promised to lead him to indians, and that he was ready to be led. if they thought the hostiles were to be reached by following the trail, he would follow it.

some of them did think so. some of them thought on the contrary, that it would be surer to make a detour, leaving the trail. they knew the spot, the bed of an ancient mountain lake, where the hostiles were sure to camp.

landor sat and heard them out, silence on his lips and wrath upon his brow. "we will go wherever you say," he reiterated immovably.

the captain they had elected for themselves was for following; the seven others agreed upon a detour. they had ideas of their own concerning obedience to superiors. they left the trail in spite of the vehement assurance of their captain that they would without doubt get all manner of profanity knocked out of them, and hasten their inevitable journey to gehenna if they went into the timber.

the advance guard advanced less and less. half drunk and ever drinking, in quaking fear of the timber, it kept falling back.

[pg 120]

"i'll be hanged," opined landor, as his own horse bit at the croup of a citizen's horse, eliciting a kick and a squeal, "i'll be hanged if you shall demoralize my column like this. you'll keep ahead if i have to halt here all night to make you. i've given you the post of honor. if i put my men in the van, i'd choose the best ones, and they'd be flattered, too. you wouldn't catch them skulking back on the command."

they spurred forward unwillingly, thus urged. at sundown they came to the old lake bed and camped there. according to the citizens it was a regular indian camping-place for the hostiles, since the days of cochise.

the horses were tied to a ground line, to avoid the embarrassment of a loose herd, in the event of an engagement. pickets were sent out to give warning at the approach of indians. it was winter here in the mountains, while it was hot summer in the alkali flats below, but the men were forbidden fires. and it was a fierce grievance to the citizens, as was also that they were not allowed to go out to shoot wild turkeys. they remonstrated sulkily.

landor's patience was worn out. "it's a confoundedly curious thing," he told them, "for men who really want to find indians, to go shooting and building fires." and he sent them to rest upon their arms and upon the cold, damp ground.

but there was no night alarm, and at daybreak it began to be apparent to the troops that they had been led directly away from all chance of one. they made[pg 121] fires, ate their breakfast, resaddled, and took their way back to the settlements, doubling on their own trail. they came upon signs of a yet larger band, and it was more probable than ever that the valley had been in danger.

landor cursed the malpais and the men who were leading him over it. "how much more of this rough country is there going to be?" he demanded, as they stopped to shoe two horses that had come unshod on the sharp rocks. "colonel," they made answer with much dignity, "we are more anxious than you to get back to our defenceless women and children."

the defenceless women and children were safe, however: a captain, ranking landor, reported to that effect when he met them some dozen miles outside san tomaso. he reported further that he had a pack-train for landor and orders to absorb his troop. landor protested at having to retrace their trail at once. his men and his stock were in no state to travel. the men were footsore and blistered. they had led their horses, for the most part, up and down rough hills for two days. but the trail was too hot and too large to be abandoned. they unsaddled, and partaking together of coffee and bacon and biscuits, mounted and went off once more. their bones ached, and the feet of many of them bled; but the citizens had gone their way to their homes in the valley, and they felt that, on the whole, they had reason to be glad.