After supper I accompanied the commanding officer to his quarters.  He told me that the express had brought him a communication from the department commander, stating that, since Arizona had been transferred to the Department of the Pacific, our stores would hereafter be shipped from San Francisco to the mouth of the Rio Colorado, and up that stream by the boats of the Colorado Steam Navigation Company to La Paz.  He said he had decided to send me to La Paz to make arrangements with a freighter for the transportation of the supplies from the company’s landing to Fort Whipple.

“And while you are in La Paz,” said the captain, “look after those horse-thieves, and turn them over to the civil authorities; but, whether you capture them or not, be sure to bring back the boys’ ponies.”

“What do you think about allowing the boys to go with me?”

“No doubt they would like it, for life has been rather monotonous to them for some time, especially since they lost their horses.  Think it would be safe?”

“No Indians have been seen on the route for some time.”

“The ‘calm before the storm,’ I fear.”

“The mail-rider, Hudson, has seen no signs for a long time.”

“So he told me.  The excursion would be a big treat to the lads, and, with a good escort and you in command, Duncan, I think they will be in no danger.  Tell the adjutant to detail a corporal and any twelve men you may select, and take an ambulance and driver.”

“Shall I go by Bill Williams Fork or across the Xuacaxella?”

“The desert route is the shortest, and the courier says there is water in the Hole-in-the-Plain.  There was a rainfall there last week.  That will give you water at the end of each day’s drive.”

I returned to my rooms and looked over an itinerary of the route, with a schedule of the distances, and other useful information.  After making myself familiar with all its peculiarities, I told Frank and Henry that if they desired to do so they might accompany me.

They were overjoyed at the prospect.  Henry caught Vic by the forepaws and began to waltz about the room.  Then, sitting down, he held her head up between his palms and informed her that she was going to bring back Sancho and Chiquita.

“I do not intend to take Vic, Henry,” I said.

“Not take Vic?  Why not, sir?”

“The road is long and weary—­six days going and six returning, over a rough and dry region—­and she will be in the way and a constant care to us.”

“But how are we going to find our horses without her?  She always helps whenever we are in trouble, and she will be sure to assist us in this if we take her,” said Sergeant Henry, emphatically.

“She need be no care to you, sir,” said the elder boy; “Henry and I will look after her.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, boys, but I cannot take the dog.  She will be left with Captain Bayard.”