But you lads," he said, turning to the three friends,
"where were you bound for when you were attacked?"
Bert told him, and the captain told off half a dozen troopers to escort
them to the ranch. "You deserve the highest praise for the plucky fight
you put up," he said, "and I don't want your lives put in jeopardy by any
of the redskins who may return to this neighborhood after we leave. I
imagine they've had all the fight taken out of them by this time,
however, and they'll probably make a bee line for the reservation. But
it is best to be on the safe side, at all events."
The boys thanked him heartily for his timely aid, and then, each mounted
on a trooper's horse, they and the escort set off in the direction of the
ranch, first shaking hands with Buck, the stage-coach driver.
"You're plucky lads," he exclaimed, wringing their hands, "and we all put
up the scrap of our lives. I don't know about old Sam"--here a shadow
passed over his face--"but he's a tough old sinner, an' I reckon he'll
pull through all right. I hope I'll see you lads again some time, I sure
do.
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