"This has been a fight, man to man, and I'm satisfied. I'll not report
it officially."

The big one grinned sheepishly and respectfully offered his hand:

"You're all right, Lieutenant. I made a mistake. I beg your pardon.
You're the kind of a commander I've always liked."

Again the soldiers gave a shout. No man under him ever again presumed on
his beardless face. He had only to make his orders known to have them
instantly obeyed.

Jim Pemberton had watched the little drama of officer and man with an
ugly light gleaming in his eyes. The young master had not seen him. That
night in his quarters Jim quietly said:

"I'd a killed him ef he'd a laid his big claws on you, Marse Jeff."

"Would you, James?"

"Dat I would, sah."

Nothing more was said. But a new bond was sealed between master and man.

While at Fort Crawford, the Lieutenant had been ordered up the Yellow
River to build a saw mill. He had handled the neighboring Indians with
such friendly skill and won their good will so completely, he was
adopted by their chief as a brother of the tribe. An old Indian woman
bent with age traveled a hundred miles to the Fort to warn the "Little