mere presence with the command would be of incalculable benefit.  “We have it from indisputable authority,” says The Miner’s Light of Brandy Gap, “that when our esteemed fellow-citizen Hank Mulligan and twenty gallant shots and riders like himself went in a body to General——­ at the cantonment and offered their services as volunteers against the Sioux now devastating the homesteads and settlements of the Upper Missouri and Yellowstone valleys, they were treated with haughty and contemptuous refusal by that bandbox caricature of a soldier and threatened with arrest if they did not quit the camp.  When will the United States learn that its frontiers can never be purged of the Indian scourges of our civilization until the conduct of affairs in the field is intrusted to other hands than these martinets of the drill-ground?  It is needless to remark in this connection that the expedition led by General——­ has proved a complete failure, and that the Indians easily escaped his clumsily-led forces.”

The gamblers, though baffled for the time being, of course “get square,” and more too, with the unfortunate general in this sort of warfare, but they are a disgusted lot as they hang about the wagon-train as last of all it is being hitched-in to leave camp.  Some victims, of course, they have secured, and there are no devices of commanding officers which can protect their men against those sharks of the prairies when the men themselves are bound to tempt Providence and play.  There are two scowling faces in the cavalry escort that has been left back with the train, and Captain Hull, the commanding officer, has reprimanded Sergeants Clancy and Gower in stinging terms for their absence from the command during the night.  There is little question where they spent it, and both have been “cleaned out.”  What makes it worse, both have lost money that belonged to other men in the command, and they are in bad odor accordingly.

The long day’s march has tempered the joviality of the entire column.  It is near sundown, and still they keep plodding onward, making for a grassy level on the river-bank a good mile farther.

“Old Hull seems bound to leave the sports as far behind as possible, if he has to march us until midnight,” growls the battalion adjutant to his immediate commander.  “By thunder! one would think he was afraid they would get in a lick at his own pile.”

“How much did you say he was carrying?” asks Captain Rayner, checking his horse for a moment to look back over the valley at the long, dust-enveloped column.

“Nearly three thousand dollars in one wad.”

“How does he happen to have such a sum?”

“Why, Crane left his pay-accounts with him.  He drew all that was due his men who are off with Crane,—­twenty of them,—­for they had signed the rolls before going, and were expected back to-day.  Then he has some six hundred dollars company fund; and the men of his troop asked him to take care of a good deal besides.  The old man has been with them so many years they look upon him as a father and trust him as implicitly as they would a savings-bank.”