The eyes that were so closely watching the movements of Bristow and his companions belonged to Bob Owens.  The latter had strolled off alone, and thrown himself behind an angle of the ruined wall to indulge in a few moments’ quiet meditation, and thus unwillingly placed himself in a position to overhear the details of the plot which we have just disclosed.  If Bristow had not so promptly entered upon the discussion of the subject of desertion, Bob would have made his presence known to him; but after he had listened to the first words that fell from his lips he thought it best to remain quietly in his place of concealment, for he knew that if he revealed himself, then he would be accused of playing the part of eavesdropper.

“Now, here’s a go!” thought Bob, rising to his feet when he saw Bristow and his two friends walk through the gate into the fort, “and I wish somebody would be kind enough to tell me what I ought to do about it.  Shall I stand quietly by and let them go, or shall I tell the officers what I have heard?  If I let them go, they will run the risk of being gobbled up by that party of Kiowas who are now raiding the country north of us; and if I tell the colonel, and it should ever be found out on me, I should lead a hard life in the quarters.  I wish I had been somewhere else when they came here.”

Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, Bob left the ruins, and, walking slowly around the stockade, entered at a gate on the opposite side.  His first care was to hunt up the sergeant-major of his regiment, whom he found in the quarters.  This man had grown gray in the service, and he was a soldier all over-brave, faithful and untiring in the performance of his duty.  He readily responded to Bob’s significant wink, and followed him out on the parade.

“Sergeant,” said Bob as soon as they were beyond earshot of everybody, “I have accidentally come into the possession of a secret, and I don’t know what to do with it.  There are thirty men in the garrison who are going to desert to-night.”

The old fellow took a fresh chew of tobacco, pushed his cap on the back of his head and looked at Bob, who, after telling him where he had been and how he happened to overhear the plot, continued: 

“It would never do to let them go.  You know I was detailed to act as the colonel’s orderly this morning, and I heard that scout who came in just before noon tell him that there is a large party of hostiles between here and Fort Tyler.  These deserters intend to take their weapons with them, and think they can make a good fight; but those Kiowas are strong enough to annihilate them.”

“Small loss that would be to us!” growled the veteran.  “We are going to have some hot work to do before long, and such men are no good in a fight.”

“It would never do to let them go,” repeated Bob, “but there is only one way to prevent it that I can see; and that is by telling the colonel all about it.  If I do that, and they should find it out, they would go back on me, sure.”

“Of course they would,” said the sergeant.

“Well, what would you do if you were in my place?” asked Bob.

“What would I do?  I would go straight to the officer of the day and tell him the whole thing.  The good-will of such men don’t amount to anything, any way, and what do you care if they do go back on you?  There’s only thirty of them, and that leaves three hundred and fifty good fellows who will always be ready to befriend you.  Do you know who these deserters are?  I’ll report the matter if you are afraid, and then let’s see one of them open his head to me.”

Bob repeated the names of the would-be deserters which Bristow had given as nearly as he could recall them, and the sergeant hurried off to hunt up the officer of the day, while Bob went back into the quarters.  He had been there but a few minutes when the orderly appeared at the door and sung out,

“Owens, the colonel wants to see you.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Bristow, “our good little boy has been doing something bad at last.-There are no bunks in the guard-house, Owens.”

Bob made no reply.  He followed the orderly across the parade and into the colonel’s head-quarters, where he found the officer of the day, the sergeant-major and all the ranking officers of the garrison.  The colonel questioned him closely in regard to the plot he had discovered, and finally dismissed him and the sergeant without making any comments.  Half an hour later the entire cavalry force of the garrison was drawn up in line, the names of forty men who were ordered to the front and centre were read off, and the rest of the troopers were sent back to their quarters.  Then the bugle sounded “Boots and saddles!” and in a few minutes more these forty men-one of whom was Bob Owens-rode out of the gate, led by the scout who had brought the information concerning that war-party of Kiowas.  The squad was commanded by Lieutenant Earle.

“That’s all right,” whispered Bristow to one of his fellow-conspirators as they stood in front of their quarters and saw their comrades ride away.  “There will be just so many men less to follow us to-morrow morning.  But I wish we knew which way they are going,” he added in a tone of anxiety; “and we must find out if we can.  We don’t want to run into them if we can possibly avoid them, for there are some of the best men in the garrison in that party.”

“I suppose we are off after the hostiles,” said the soldier who rode by Bob’s side.  “The scout told the colonel that there were three hundred braves in that party, didn’t he?”

Bob answered that that was what he understood him to say.

“Then I wish we had a hundred men instead of forty,” continued the trooper.  “Our squad is too large to conceal itself, and too small to make a successful fight against such overwhelming odds.  Well, if worst comes to worst-”

The speaker thrust his hand into his boot-leg and drew out a loaded Derringer.  He intended to send its contents through his own head rather than fall alive into the hands of the hostiles.  Probably nine out of ten men in that squad were provided with weapons just like it, and which they intended to use in the same way should circumstances require it.  Veteran Indian-fighters never fail to give this advice to a recruit:  “When it comes to a fight, save the last shot for yourself.”

But, as it happened, Bob and his companions were not out after hostiles on this particular afternoon, for that raiding-party of Kiowas was already beyond the reach of any force that the commander of Fort Lamoine could have sent in pursuit of it.  They found out in due time that their mission was of an entirely different character.  They rode at a sharp trot until it was nearly dark, and then they went into camp in a belt of post-oaks and cooked and ate their supper.  After an hour’s rest they mounted and rode back toward the fort again.  Arriving within a mile of the stockade, a halt was ordered, the men were dismounted, and, every fourth trooper being left to hold the horses, the others marched off through the darkness, armed only with their revolvers.  Then Bob began to understand the matter.  The object of the expedition was to capture the deserters.  It had been led away from the fort simply as a “blind,” and in order to lull the malcontents into a feeling of security no change whatever had been made in the guards who were to do duty that night.

After the lieutenant had marched about half a mile another halt was ordered, and sixteen men, divided into squads of four men each, were told off to begin the work.  The officer approached each squad in turn, and after designating some one to take charge of it, gave him his instructions in a whisper.  When he walked up to Bob he asked,

“Do you know where post N is? and can you go straight to it without making any mistake?”

“Yes, sir, to both your questions,” was the prompt reply.

“Very well.  Take command of this squad and go and arrest Dodd, whom you will find on guard there.  Then put Carey in his place, and come back and report to me at post N, and I will tell you what else to do.  The countersign,” added the lieutenant, coming a step nearer to Bob and speaking in a tone so low that no one else could catch his words, “is ‘Custer.’  Be quick and still.  Forward, march!”

As Bob moved away with his squad he told himself that fidelity is sometimes appreciated.  This was his first command, and he knew that much depended upon the way in which he executed the orders that had been given him.  If they were faithfully and skilfully carried out, he might hope to be entrusted with other commands in future, and so be given opportunities to distinguish himself and win promotion; for Bob, like every ambitious boy, was anxious to get ahead as rapidly as possible.

“What’s the matter, Owens?” asked all the members of his squad in concert as soon as they were out of the lieutenant’s hearing.  They were all in the dark, and so was every man belonging to the expedition with the exception of the lieutenant, the sergeant-major and Bob Owens.  The latter explained the state of affairs in as few words as he could, and the general verdict was that it would have been no loss to the garrison, or to the service either, if Bristow and his companions had been permitted to depart in peace.

In a few minutes Bob and his men arrived within sight of the place where the horses were staked out, and a hoarse voice broke the stillness.  “Halt!  Who comes there?” was the challenge.

“Friends, with the countersign,” answered Bob after bringing his squad to a halt.

“Advance, one friend, and give the countersign,” was the next command.

“Now, boys,” said Bob in a low whisper, “you stay here, and when I call out ‘Advance, squad,’ come up briskly and surround Dodd, so as to be ready to overpower him if he shows the least disposition to resist or cry out.”

So saying, Bob moved off in the direction from which the hail sounded, and presently discovered the sentry, who stood at “arms port.”

“Halt!” commanded the guard when Bob had approached within a few feet of him.  “Give the countersign.”

Bob whispered the magic word.

“The countersign is correct,” said the sentry, bringing his carbine to a carry.-“It’s you, is it, Owens?  What’s the matter?”

“Advance, squad,” said Bob in a low tone.  “You haven’t seen anything suspicious going on about your post, have you?” he added, wishing to occupy the sentry’s attention until his men could come within supporting distance of him.  “No?  Well, I am sorry to say that there is something suspicious about you, and I am ordered to put you in arrest.”

He laid hold of the carbine as he said this, and at the same moment two of his men placed their hands upon the sentinel’s shoulders.  The latter, seeing that resistance was useless, promptly gave up his piece and dropped his hands by his sides.  “It’s all that Bristow’s work,” said he in angry tones.  “I knew he wouldn’t do to tie to.”

“Don’t say too much,” interposed Bob.  “You don’t want to condemn yourself.-Carey, take this post until relieved.”

As Bob marched his squad and his prisoner to the place where he was to meet his commanding officer, he found the intervening posts in the charge of trusty men.  Four of the discontented ones had been secured, and it only remained for the lieutenant to perfect arrangements for seizing the others as fast as they came out of the fort.  He had already decided upon his plan of operations, and Bob Owens was called upon to take the first step toward carrying it out.  After he had listened to some very explicit instructions from his commander, he stole off into the darkness, and, creeping along the outside of the stockade until he reached a point opposite the place where the sentry was posted behind the stables, he stopped and waited to see what was going to happen.  About ten feet from him on his left was another soldier, standing upright and motionless in the shadow of the stockade.  Ten feet beyond this soldier was another.  These were all that Bob could see, but he knew that there were good men and true stationed at regular intervals all along the stockade, waiting to act the several parts that had been assigned to them.

Bob waited and listened for a quarter of an hour or more, and then he heard a conversation carried on in a low tone on the other side of the stockade.  He could not catch the words, but he knew that the deserters were beginning to bestir themselves, and that one of their number was talking with the sentry.  Presently a scratching, scrambling sound, accompanied by heavy, labored breathing and those incoherent exclamations that men sometimes use when they are exerting themselves to the utmost, told Bob that somebody was making his way up the logs.  Keeping his eyes fastened on the top, he saw a soldier climb up and seat himself on the plate.  He could see him very plainly against the light background of the sky, and he recognized him at once.  It was Bristow.  He was about to swing himself off when he discovered Bob standing beneath him.  He stopped, peered down into the darkness for a moment, and then called out in a frightened whisper,

“Who is it?”

“It’s all right,” whispered Bob in reply; “come on.”

“Who is it, I say?” repeated Bristow in still more earnest tones.

“Why, don’t you know Dodd?  Hand me your carbine.”

“Oh!” said Bristow with a great sigh of relief.  “It is all right, isn’t it?  Here you are.”

Holding his carbine by the strap, Bristow passed it down to Bob, who promptly slung it upon his back.  The latter then pushed up his sleeves, moved back a little from the stockade, and when Bristow swung himself down by his hands and dropped lightly to the ground, Bob stepped up and took him by the arm.

“I don’t need any help,” said Bristow, who had landed squarely on his feet.  “But I say, Dodd-”

“We’ll talk about it as we go along,” interrupted Bob.  “But not a loud word out of you, unless you want to be gagged.”

“Why, good gracious, it’s Owens!” gasped Bristow, reeling back against the stockade.  He did not ask what Bob was doing there or why he had seized him, for he knew without asking.

“Yes, it is Owens, and the men you saw ride out of the gate with me this afternoon are with me now.  Here’s one of them,” added Bob as a soldier named Loring stepped up and took his place in readiness to catch the next deserter who came over the stockade.

Just then the sentry on the inside placed his mouth close to one of the cracks between the logs and asked, in a cautious tone,

“How is it, Bristow?  Is the coast clear?”

“All clear,” replied Loring, speaking through the same crack.  “Tell the boys to hurry up; we’ve no time to waste.”

If Bob’s captive had any idea of attempting to escape or of alarming his companions by crying out, he abandoned it very quickly when he saw the soldiers that were stationed along the stockade.  There was a trooper for every deserter, and as fast as the man at the head of the line caught one, another moved up and took his place.

“This bangs me!” said Bristow, in great disgust.  “Now comes a court-martial of course, and Goodness only knows what will come after that-the guard-house and a heavy fine, or the military prison at Fort Leavenworth.-I say, Owens, how did the colonel find it out?”

“Do you suppose he tells his secrets to us privates?” asked Bob in reply.

“We spoke to somebody who was not worthy of the confidence we placed in him,” continued Bristow.  “The thing never could have become known unless one of our own number had proved treacherous.  But we can easily find out who he is.  There are just thirty of us, and if there are only twenty-nine arrested, the missing man is the guilty one.  When I find out who he is, I shall take particular pains to see that the next battle he gets into is his last.”

This threat was uttered in a very low tone of voice, for Bristow and his captor had by this time reached the place where the lieutenant had stationed himself to receive his men when they came in with their prisoners.  Bob reported, “Your orders have been obeyed, sir,” and took his stand close behind his officer.

“I counted only twenty-six,” said Bristow when the sergeant-major came up and announced the complete success of the undertaking.  “There must be four traitors among us.”

“Have you counted in the horse-guards?” asked Bob.  “There they are on the top of that ridge.”

No, Bristow had not counted them in, for he did not know until that minute that they had been arrested.  He was very much astonished when he learned that every one of his party had been secured, and could not for the life of him imagine how the colonel had found out about it; for that he knew all about it was evident from the manner in which the arrests had been effected.

Having sent one of his men back to order up the horses, the lieutenant formed his captives in line, threw a guard around them and marched them into the fort.  Halting them on the parade, he went in to report to the colonel, and when he came out again he put every one of them into the guard-house; after which Bob and his companions went to the quarters and tumbled into their bunks.

Great was the astonishment among the soldiers the next morning when it became known that the expedition, which they supposed had gone out in search of the hostiles, had returned to the fort and captured thirty armed men, and that the work had been done so quietly that the sentry at the gate never knew anything about it until it was all over.  Of course they were quite at a loss to determine who it was that told the colonel about it; and the general impression seemed to be that if there were a traitor among the deserters, he had allowed himself to be captured with the others in order to avoid suspicion.

Among the non-commissioned officers who had attempted to desert was one of the corporals belonging to Bob’s troop, and the next morning Bob was ordered to take his place and do duty as corporal of the guard.  He saw the prisoners served with breakfast, and the numerous orders he had to give opened the eyes of one of them, who began to think he had made a discovery.  And so he had, but he could not prove it.

“I’ll tell you what’s a fact, boys,” said Bristow as he walked to a remote corner of his prison with a cup of coffee in one hand and some cracker and bacon in the other:  “I know whom we have to thank for our arrest.”

“Who is it?” asked a dozen voices at once.

“I’d like to send him my compliments in the shape of a bullet from my carbine,” said the corporal whose place Bob was then filling.  “Tell us who he is, so that we can improve the first chance to get even with him.”

“There he is,” said Bristow, shaking his piece of cracker at Bob.  “He has been trying to get on the blind side of the officers for a long time, as you all know, and he has accomplished his object at last by going back on his comrades.”

The prisoners looked at Bob as if they expected him to deny the accusation; but, to the disappointment of some of them who really liked him, he had nothing to say.

“Why don’t you speak up and declare that it isn’t so?” demanded the corporal.

“Because he dare not,” exclaimed Bristow.  “He couldn’t without telling a lie, and, as he is a good little boy, he wouldn’t do that for the world.”

“I don’t believe he did it,” said another of the culprits.  “He is not one of us, and how could he have found it out?  I believe that the traitor is right here in the guard-house under arrest.”

“I know he isn’t,” declared Bristow.  “Bob Owens is the only traitor there is, and you may depend upon it.  Now, let me tell you just what is going to happen when the court-martial comes off:  it will be proved to the satisfaction of all of you that Owens found out about our plans in some way or other, and went straight to the colonel with them.  You will be disrated, Corporal Jim, and Lieutenant Earle, in order to reward Bob for carrying tales and to encourage him to carry more, will give him your place.  Why, he has just as good as got the stripes on his arm now.”

Corporal Jim looked daggers at Bob, and declared that if he was the one who had disclosed their plot to the colonel, he was too mean for any use, and ought to be drummed out of the fort.

“I promised that if I ever found out who the informer was I would serve him worse than that,” said Bristow in savage tones.  “I shall keep my promise, too, if I ever get the chance, for I am one who never forgets an injury.”

Bob Owens-who, as we know, was not wanting in physical courage-was not at all alarmed by this threat and a good many others like it to which he listened during the fifteen minutes the prisoners were occupied in eating their breakfast.  He believed that he was able to take care of N; and when the critical time came, as it did a few weeks later, he proved to the satisfaction of everybody that his confidence in himself was not misplaced.

The court-martial was not long delayed, and the findings being approved by the proper authorities, the sentences were promptly carried out.  The culprits were confined in the guard-house for different periods of time, those who had been the most active in inducing their comrades to desert serving a longer sentence than their victims, and fines were imposed upon all of them, Bristow’s being by far the heaviest, as he was proved to be the ringleader.  He and Gus Robbins-both of whom had been almost constantly in trouble ever since they arrived at the post-were given to understand that if they were detected in another attempt at desertion they could make up their minds to see the inside of the military prison at Fort Leavenworth.  Bristow proved to be a first-class prophet.  During the progress of the trial it came out that Bob Owens was the one who discovered the plot, and that through him it was communicated to the colonel.  Corporal Jim was of course reduced to the ranks, and Bob was promoted to fill the vacancy.

During the next few weeks nothing of interest happened at the fort.  The deserters were released as fast as the terms for which they were sentenced expired, some of them penitent and fully resolved to do better in future, while the others were more than ever determined to escape from military control, in spite of all the officers and guards that could be placed around them.  They carried out their determination, too, at every opportunity, deserting in parties numbering half a dozen or so, and they generally succeeded in eluding pursuit.  It was a singular fact that when the pursuers were commanded by commissioned officers they very often returned without having accomplished anything, but when they were commanded by sergeants or corporals they were almost always successful.  Luck was on the side of the “non-coms,” and the colonel finally learned to put a great deal of confidence in them.  Bob Owens was particularly fortunate in this respect, and that was the reason his superior sent for him one morning after the officer of the day had reported that seven men had deserted during the previous night, taking their arms and a supply of ammunition with them.