An Apache Princess

"Had your trouble for nothing, Hart," hailed the youngster cheerily.

"Where're the men?"

"Followed his trail--turned to the east three miles below here,"

answered the trader.

"Three miles below! Why, man, he wasn't below. He met them up Beaver

Creek, an' brought 'em in."

"Brought who in?" asked Hart, dropping his whip. "I don't understand."

"Why, the scouts, or runners! Wren sent 'em in. He's had a sharp fight

up the mountains beyond Snow Lake. Three men wounded. You couldn't

have gone a mile before Blakely led 'em across No. 4's post. Ahorah

and another chap--'Patchie-Mohaves. We clicked the news up to Prescott

over an hour ago."

The tin reflector at the office window threw the light of the

glass-framed candle straight upon Hart's rubicund face, and that face

was a study. He faltered a bit before he asked: "Did Blakely seem all right?--not used up, I mean?"

"Seemed weak and tired, but the man is mad to go and join his troop

now--wants to go right out with Ahorah in the morning, and Captain

Cutler says no. Oh, they had quite a row!"

They had had rather more than quite a row, if truth were told. Doty

had heard only a bit of it. Cutler had been taken by surprise when the

Bugologist appeared, two strange, wiry Apaches at his heels, and at

first had contented himself with reading Wren's dispatch, repeating it

over the wires to Prescott. Then he turned on Blakely, silently,

wearily waiting, seated at Doty's desk, and on the two Apaches,

silently, stolidly waiting, squatted on the floor. Cutler wished to

know how Blakely knew these couriers were coming, and how he came to

leave the post without permission. For a moment the lieutenant simply

gazed at him, unanswering, but when the senior somewhat sharply

repeated the question, in part, Blakely almost as sharply answered: "I

did not know they were coming nor that there was wrong in my going.

Major Plume required nothing of the kind when we were merely going out

for a ride."

This nettled Cutler. He had always said that Plume was lax, and here

was proof of it. "I might have wanted you--I did want you, hours

ago, Mr. Blakely, and even Major Plume would not countenance his

officers spending the greater part of the night away from the post,

especially on a government horse," and there had Cutler the whip hand

of the scientist, and Blakely had sense enough to see it, yet not

sense enough to accept. He was nervous and irritable, as well as

tired. Graham had told him he was too weak to ride, yet he had gone,

not thinking, of course, to be gone so long, but gone deliberately,

and without asking the consent of the post commander. "My finding the

runners was an accident," he said, with some little asperity of tone

and manner. "In fact, I didn't find them. They found me. I had known

them both at the reservation. Have I your permission, sir"--this with

marked emphasis--"to take them for something to eat. They are very

hungry,--have come far, and wish to start early and rejoin Captain

Wren,--as I do, too."