Scratched, torn, covered with blood and bruises, and still unconscious though he was, Drummond knew him at a glance.  They had met the previous year, and though only once it was enough.  Men with young and lovely sisters are not soon forgotten.  Kneeling by his side, the lieutenant sought anxiously for trace of blade or bullet.  Rents there were many and many a bloody scratch and tear, but, to his infinite relief, no serious wound appeared.  Still in deep swoon, his friend seemed to resist every effort for his restoration.  The dash of water in his face was answered only by a faint shivering sigh.  The thimbleful of whiskey forced between his lips only gurgled down his throat, and Drummond felt no responsive flutter of pulse.  The shock to his system must indeed have been great, for Harvey lay like one in a trance.  Drummond feared that he might never again open his eyes to light and home.

And then the weary troop came trotting into view, old Sergeant Meinecke in command.  Halting and dismounting at his signal, the men stood silent and wondering at their horses’ heads, while their leader went in to report to his commander.  Drummond barely lifted his eyes from the pallid features before him.

“Unsaddle, sergeant; rub down; pick out the best and likeliest horses.  I want twenty men to go on a chase with me.  How soon can the packs get up?”

“They must be fully half an hour behind, sir.”

“Sorry for that, sergeant.  We’ve got to take at least four of them; load them up with barley, bacon, hardtack, ammunition.  Kick off everything else.  We’ll feed and water here before starting, then we’ve got to ride like the devil.  Send Trooper Bland here as soon as he has unsaddled.  I want him to ride with me.  He knows all the roads to the south.”

Meinecke saluted in his methodical German fashion, turned away, and presently could be heard ordering “Unsaddle” and then shouting for Private Bland.

“Are there any of our men besides the farrier who have any knowledge of surgery?” asked the lieutenant of Sergeant Lee.

“They say Bland has, sir.  I don’t know any one else.”

“Well, I’ve just sent for him.  Mr. Harvey here doesn’t seem to be wounded, yet it’s impossible to bring him to.  Give Woods a little more whiskey and see if you can get a word out of the major or Feeny.”

But efforts with the half-suffocated men had no effect.  The whiskey with Woods had better results.  He presently ceased his shivering sobs and could answer more questions.  Drummond begged for particulars of the capture, and these the man found it difficult to give.  He was stationed at the back door, the corral side, he said, and hardly saw the final rush.  But there was something so queer about it.  There had been a few minutes’ lull.  Then Harvey and Feeny both began to talk excitedly and to call out that the “road agents” were running away, and then presently there came sound of galloping