“A friend—­Corporal Frank Burton,” was the answer.

“Blest be the saints!  Corpril Frank, laddie, is it you—­and aloive?” said the sentinel, forgetting in his joy to continue the usual formality of the challenge or to call the corporal of the guard.

Springing from my seat I walked towards the sentinel, and there, by the light of the moon, I saw Frank, mounted upon Sancho, with Vic in his arms.  I reached up to take my dog, but the boy quickly exclaimed: 

“Be careful, sir, be careful!  She’s badly hurt.  Here’s the letter she brought.  Henry is alive.”

To attempt to relate all that now occurred would be impossible.  In some mysterious manner the news of Frank’s arrival crept through the camp, and half-dressed figures of officers and soldiers gathered about the camp-fire, curious to listen to an account of the boy’s adventure.  One little, blanketed figure ran out of the darkness, caught Vic’s face between her two palms, nestled her cheek against it, and with a cheerful “good-night,” disappeared as suddenly as she had come.

I took Vic in my lap as I sat on the ground, and by the light of a blazing pine-knot proceeded to examine her condition.  I found the mouth and feet of the poor animal full of the spines of the cholla cactus, a growth which is simply a mass of fine thorns.  This cactus grows in patches, and when the dead clusters fall to the ground the spines stick to everything touching them.  The dog had stepped into a bed of these bunched needles, and filled her feet, and in trying to remove them with her teeth had thrust them through cheeks, lips, and tongue, literally closing her jaws.  Her paws bristled with them like pin-cushions.

As to Frank’s adventures:  After leaving the Arnolds, as already described by Brenda, he retraced the route to Carizo Creek and to the Rio Puerco without seeing any sign of his brother.  Returning to the west he dismounted at the crossing of the Carizo.  He felt sure that if Henry had been captured by the Navajos he must have been taken in the dry bed of that creek.

A long and patient search resulted in the discovery of tracks made by several ponies running along the eastern side of the Carizo to the north and the hills.  One of the set showed the print of iron shoes.  Frank mounted again and followed this trail up the valley for some hours.  He was thinking about returning, when he saw a white object moving on a hill-side, far in advance.  It seemed to tumble, rise, and go in a circle, then tumble, rise, and circle again.  Frank’s curiosity was aroused, and he rode on to examine the object.  A few hundred yards more revealed the fact that he had come upon the missing Vic, and that something was seriously the matter with her.  At first Frank thought she was mad or in a fit, but as he came nearer she sat up and made demonstrations of joy at his approach.  He dismounted, and found her in the condition already described.  On the ground was a chip, neatly cut