"Cowboys and skinners, eh?" inquired Boyd, unbuckling his belt.

"And leather-cape, too, sir."

My lieutenant laughed, showing his white teeth; laid belt, hatchet,
and heavy knife on a wine-stained table, and placed his rifle against
it. Then, slipping cartridge sack, bullet pouch, and powder horn from
his shoulders, stood eased, yawning and stretching his fine, powerful
frame.

"I take it that you see few of our corps here below," he observed
indulgently.

The landlord's lack-lustre eyes rested on me for an instant, then on
Boyd:

"Few, sir."

"Do you know the uniform, landlord?"

"Rifles," he said indifferently.

"Yes, but whose, man? Whose?" insisted Boyd impatiently.

The other shook his head.

"Morgan's!" exclaimed Boyd loudly. "Damnation, sir! You should know
Morgan's! Sixth Company, sir; Major Parr! And a likelier regiment and
a better company never wore green thrums on frock or coon-tail on