He went that way--toward Kiowa."
Sergeant Clancey, who was kneeling by the figure in the trail, raised
his hand in salute. "Pop Henderson, lieutenant," he said. "He's shot
through the heart. He's dead."
"He took the money, ten thousand dollars," cried Colonel Patten. "He
wore a red mask and a rubber poncho. And I saw that he had no
stirrups in his stirrup-straps."
Crosby dodged, as though someone had thrown a knife, and then raised
his hand stiffly and heavily.
"Lieutenant Curtis, you will remain here with Colonel Patten," he
ordered. His voice was without emotion. It fell flat and dead.
"Deploy as skirmishers," he commanded. "G Troop to the fight of the
trail, H Troop to the left. Stop anyone you see--anyone. If he tries
to escape, cry 'Halt!' twice and then fire--to kill. Forward! Gallop!
March! Toward the post."
"No!" shouted Colonel Patten. "He went toward Kiowa."
Crosby replied in the same dead voice: "He doubled after he left you,
colonel. He has gone to the post."
Colonel Patten struggled from the supporting arms that held him and
leaned eagerly forward. "You know him, then?" he demanded.
"Yes," cried Crosby, "God help him! Spread out there, you, in open
order--and ride like hell!"
Just before the officers' club closed for the night Lieutenant Ranson
came in and, seating himself at the piano, picked out "The Queen of
the Philippine Islands" with one finger.
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