officer, and he turned his files again into the gully. Major Overstone
was still lingering there.

"I hope you are satisfied," he said grimly. He then paused, and in a
changed and more hesitating voice added: "I am an older soldier than
you, sir, but I am always glad to make the acquaintance of West Point."
He paused and held out his hand.

West Point, still red and rigid, glanced at him with bright clear eyes
under light lashes and the peak of a smartly cocked cap, looked coolly
at the proffered hand, raised his own to a stiff salute, said, "Good
afternoon, sir," and rode away.

Major Overstone wheeled angrily, but in doing so came sharply upon his
coadjutor--the leader of the ambushed party.

"Well, Dawson," he said impatiently. "Who was it?"

"Only one of them d----d half-breed Injin agents. He's just over there
in the brush with Simpson, lying low till the soldiers clear out."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Not much!" returned Dawson scornfully. "He ain't my style."

"Fetch him up to my cabin; he may be of some use to us."

Dawson looked skeptical. "I reckon he ain't no more gain here than he
was over there," he said, and turned away.