“All right, sergeants,” said the adjutant; “there is no further duty for you to perform to-day.”

Frank and Henry ran through the postern, and arrived on the crest of the bluff overlooking the Prescott road just as a horseman turned up the height.  The news that the La Paz courier had arrived spread rapidly through the quarters, and every man not on duty appeared outside the walls.

Joining the boy sergeants, I said, “Boys, if you want to drop the job of opening and closing the gates, it can hereafter be done by the guard.”

“Thank you, sir.  We took the job, and we’ll stick to it,” replied Sergeant Frank.

“I wonder if Samson could lift those gates as easily as he did the gates of Gaza?” questioned Henry, seating himself on a log which had been rejected in the building and taking Vic’s head in his lap and fondling her silken ears.

“We can’t remain here much longer,” said Frank; “I think this express will bring an order for us to go to San Francisco.”

“Very likely.  No doubt life here is not very enjoyable for boys.”

“I should say not,” said Henry, “for we can’t look outside the fort unless a dozen soldiers are along for fear the Apaches ’ll get us.”

“But you can go to Prescott.”

“Prescott!” in a tone of great contempt; “twenty-seven log cabins and five stores, and not a boy in the place—­only a dozen Pike County, Missouri, girls.”

“And we can’t go there with any comfort since Texas Dick and Jumping Jack stole Sancho and Chiquita,” added Frank.

Further conversation on this subject was temporarily interrupted by the arrival of the expressman.  A roan bronco galloped up the slope, bearing a youthful rider wearing a light buck-skin suit and a soft felt hat with a narrow brim.  He was armed with a breech-loading carbine and two revolvers, and carried, attached to his saddle, a roll of blankets, a haversack, and a mail-pouch.

Dismounting, he detached the pouch, at the same time answering questions and giving us items of news later than any contained in his despatches.

After handing his pouch to the quartermaster-sergeant, his eyes fell upon the boy sergeants.

“I saw Texas Dick and Juan Brincos at Cisternas Negras,” he said, addressing them.

“My!  Did you, Mr. Hudson?” exclaimed Henry, springing to his feet and approaching the courier.  “Did they have our ponies?”

“You know I never saw your ponies; but Dick was mounted on a black, with a white star in his forehead, and Juan on a cream-color, with a brown mane and tail.”

“Sancho!” said Frank.

“Chiquita!” said Henry.

“Do you know where they were bound?” asked Captain Bayard.

“I did not speak to them, nor did they see me; I thought it would be better to keep out of the way of such desperate characters in a lonely place.  I learned from a friend of theirs at Date Creek that they intend to open a monte bank at La Paz.”