George at the Fort | Page 6

"If I did a thing like that, I never could look a white man in the face again. I have been guilty of a good many mean acts during my life--some that I would gladly recall if I could--but I am not mean enough to desert. Besides, I have no desire to have a bullet sent into me."
Bob's companions did not know whether to be surprised or angry at this plain speech. They stared hard at him for a moment, and then Bristow said,
"Are you really afraid of being shot? Well, I can set your fears on that score at rest. I know that the penalty for desertion in the face of the enemy is death, but we are not in the face of the enemy now. The country is at peace."
"I know it is nominally so," answered Bob, "but it is not so in reality, and never will be so long as these hostile Indians and lawless Mexicans continue to raid over the Texas border. If you skip out, as you threaten to do, you may rest assured that you will be brought back by force of arms, and if you resist you will be shot."
"How does it come that you know so much more than the rest of us?" demanded Bristow angrily. "You are not an old soldier."
"I am aware of that fact, but I have been talking to an old soldier, and that was Haskins. He told me that Major Elliot, one of General Custer's officers, pursued a party of deserters, and when they resisted he shot three of them; and Haskins himself was one of the squad that did the shooting."
"I don't believe a word of it," exclaimed Bristow.
"Neither do I," said another of the recruits. "Of course we expect to be pursued, but we shall take good care that we are not caught. Any of these ranchemen who want herdsmen will furnish us with citizens' clothing, and before our year is out the thing will blow over, and then we'll go home, and stay there."
"It won't blow over as easily as you think for," said Bob. "It will be known to your home authorities and to everybody else that you are deserters, and all the detectives in the United States will be on the lookout for you. If you want to live in constant fear of arrest, you can do it, but I won't."
Bob stuck to his resolution, and his discontented companions stuck to theirs. We shall see in due time which of the four made the wisest decision.
CHAPTER II.
AN OLD FRIEND TURNS UP.
The long, toilsome journey was completed at last, and late one afternoon the weary and footsore recruits found themselves drawn up in line on the parade-ground at Fort Lamoine. After the roll had been called and the colonel commanding the post had hurriedly inspected them, they were turned over to a sergeant, who marched them into the barracks. There they found about two hundred or more soldiers, who, as soon as the order was given to "break ranks," crowded about them inquiring for late papers and asking a thousand and one questions in regard to what was going on in the States.
Learning from the sergeant that no duty would be required of him that day, Bob spread his blankets in one of the empty bunks, and, stretching himself upon them, placed his hands under his head and looked about him with no little curiosity. Presently a young trooper, a boy about his own age, who looked as though he were just recovering from a long siege of sickness, approached, and, seating himself on the edge of Bob's bunk, began a conversation with him. Those of our readers who have met this boy before in citizen's dress might have seen something familiar about him, but still it is doubtful if they would have recognized in him--Well, we will let him reveal his identity. After a few commonplace remarks Bob inquired, as he nodded his head toward a soldier who was hobbling about the room with the aid of a crutch,
"What's the matter with that man?"
"Raiders," was the sententious reply.
"Been in a fight?" asked Bob.
The young soldier nodded his head.
"How long since?"
"Last full moon."
"I hope these fights don't occur very often."
"Well, they do--much oftener than I wish they did. I have been in two pretty hard ones, and that's enough for me. I suppose we shall have more of them now, for I understand that we have received orders to follow the raiders across the river and thrash them wherever they can be found."
"Were you wounded in one of those fights?" asked Bob. "Then you must be sick," he added when the boy shook his head.
"Yes, I am sick," was the reply--"homesick and sick at heart. I have been in the army nearly two