“Yes; that’s the time I got drunk, sir.  It’s all that saved me from being killed, and between keeping sober and losing my life or getting drunk and losing a job, I preferred the latter.”

“Yet you were in a measure responsible for the safety of your passengers and mail, were you not?”

“Well, no, sir, not after the warning I gave the company.  I told them Ramon Morales was in Tucson the night before we had to pull out, and wherever he was that infernal cut-throat of a brother of his wasn’t far away.  I told them it was taking chances to let Judge Gillette and that infantry quartermaster try to go through without escort.  I begged to throw up the job that very night, but they held me to my contract, and I had to go.  We were jumped not ten miles out of town, and before any one could draw a Derringer every man of us was covered.  The judge might have known they’d shoot him on sight ever since that Greaser from Hermosillo was lynched.  But they never harmed the quartermaster.”

“Huh!  The devil they didn’t!” laughed the lieutenant.  “They took his watch and his money and everything he had on except his underclothing.  How long had you been driving when that happened?”

“Just eight months, sir, between Tucson and Grant.”

“And did you never serve with the cavalry before?  You ride as though you had.”

“Most men hereabouts served on one side or other,” said Bland, calmly, as his horse finished his long pull at the water.

“And your side was—?”

“Confederate,” was the brief reply.  “I was born in Texas.  Here comes the troop, sir.”

“Come on, then.  I want to ask you about that trail to Crittenden as we ride.  We make first for the Picacho Pass from here.”

“Why, that’s south of west, sir,” answered Bland.  “I had thought perhaps the lieutenant would want to go northward towards the Gila to head off any parties of the Apaches that might be striving to get away eastward with their booty.  They must have picked up something over at the Bend.”

“They’re more likely to go southward, Bland, for they know where we’ve been scouting all the week.  No, I’ll march straight to the signal.  There they must know where the Indians have gone.”

“Ay, ay, sir, but then you can only pursue, and a stern chase is a long one.”

Drummond turned in saddle as they rode forth upon the dark falda and gazed long and fixedly at the trooper by his side.  Imperturbably Bland continued to look straight ahead.  Queer stories had been afloat regarding this new acquisition.  He mingled but little with the men.  He affected rather the society of the better class of non-commissioned officers, an offence not likely to be condoned in a recruit.  He was already distinguished for his easy mastery of every detail of a cavalryman’s duty, and for his readiness to go at any or all times on scout, escort, or patrol, and the more hazardous or lonely the task the better he seemed to like it.