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Updated: June 28, 2025
"Lie down!" shouted Prescott steadily, though he remained with his field glass to his eyes, searching the grove. "Sergeant Overton, see how badly Danes is hurt." Hal strode over to where the wounded man lay. "Oh, it ain't nothing, Sarge," growled Private Danes disgustedly. "Just enough to give me a toothache in the hip."
When we were fairly under way in the direction of Writing-Stone, Hicks and Gregory the breed scout lagged fifty or sixty yards behind, and MacRae turned in his saddle and gave me a queer sort of look. "I wasn't joking last night when I told Goodell that this was something of a forlorn hope," he said. "Are you ready to take a chance on getting your throat cut or being shot in the back, Sarge?"
We'll all get to the front soon enough.... Tell me this war is going to last ten years." "I guess we'll all be generals by that time, eh, Sarge?" said Williams. "But, man, I wish I was back jerkin' soda water." "It's a great life if you don't weaken," murmured Fuselli automatically. "But I'm beginnin' to weaken," said Williams. "Man, I'm homesick. I don't care who knows it.
Fortune-telling, you know. He wanted twenty a month. Think of that!" "Never mind the Sarge," says I. "Did you know Mr. Gordon?" "Pyramid?" says she. "Rather! Back in the '90's, that was. I was in his offices for awhile." "Oh ho!" says I. "Then you must be the one. Would you mind givin' me a sketch of the affair?" Mrs. Shaw shrugs her shoulders under the old cape. "Why should I care now?" says she.
MacRae smiled and shook his head stubbornly. "I'm too deep in, little woman, to quit now," he told her patiently. "If it was only a matter of your money, we could get along without it. But Sarge stands to lose a lot, if we give up at this stage of the game. And besides, I'd always be more or less on the dodge if this thing isn't cleared up. I've got to see it through.
"Count off your twenty men, Sergeant. Line 'em up for instruction. I'm going to send you over yonder, now, to make that scouting reconnaissance. Don't fall into any traps, Sergeant." Hal quickly detailed his men, ordering them to fall in. "Why am I not picked, Sarge?" whispered Kelly. "Man, you've done enough." Lieutenant Prescott's instructions were few, though to the point.
While Rand was talking to McKenna, Private Jameson wandered back through the shop. "Hey, Sarge, is there any way into the house from here?" he asked. "The outside doors are all locked, and I can't raise anybody." Rand pointed out the flight of steps beside the fireplace. "I saw Rivers come out of the house that way, yesterday," he said.
A place called Fort Ridgeway," Loudons said. The others nodded, in the manner of people who wish to conceal ignorance. It was obvious that none of them had ever heard of Fort Ridgeway, or Arizona either. "You say you come from a fort? Then the wars aren't over yet?" Sarge Hughes asked. "The wars have been over for a long time. You know how terrible they were.
In fact, I wouldn't hesitate to swear to the face of the gentleman who rode in the lead of the four." "You did? Was it was my hunch right?" I demanded eagerly. "I could turn in my saddle and shoot his eye out," MacRae responded whimsically. "And I don't know but that would be more than justice. Of course, the others were the men, but I'm positive of Gregory. You see what we're up against, Sarge.
These oral inanities only served to make Lyn give me the benefit of a look of amused wonder. "Dear me," she laughed at last. "I wonder what weighty matter is crushing you to the earth. If you've got anything on your conscience, Sarge, for goodness' sake confess. I'll give you absolution, if you like, and then perhaps you'll be a little more cheerful."
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