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 the captain, who, as usual, had paused to cast his eyes keenly along the line, exclaimed sharply:

"Where's my pack animal, Cruzatte?"

For Cruzatte was supposed to look after this horse and another.

"I t'ought he follow," stammered Cruzatte, who was quite sick. "I no see heem. My gracious! Mebbe he in brush."

"Pshaw!" muttered the captain. Then he spoke energetically. "I must have those saddle-bags. They're of the utmost importance. Fields (and he addressed Reuben), you're pretty fit. Take a horse and another man and go clear back to where we loaded the meat this morning. That's likely where the animal strayed, while we halted. Look for his tracks and find him. Be sure and get the saddle-bags, in all events. Their contents are valuable."

"Yes, sir," responded Reuben. He looked about him doubtfully. And Peter did an unexpected thing. Peter felt equal to any man. He was young and wiry; his life among the Otoes had accustomed him to all kinds of outdoor hardships. He had not had so much flesh and bones to carry as had the men; he had walked lightly and straight-footed, as Indians walked.

"Take me, Reuben," he said. "I'm all right. I find the horse."

"Faith," supported Patrick Gass, "ye might do worse, Reub. Sure, the lad's as good as the best."

"If the captain has no objections?" proffered