The meeting between Annie McGowan and her father was as happy as it was unexpected on the mine-owner’s part. McGowan could scarcely believe that the scout had really found and rescued his daughter in the way described to him by Dell and Annie. It seemed impossible that one man, lone-handed, could accomplish so much. When the scout and his pards arrived at the camp, on the following afternoon, McGowan and his daughter met them, and both tendered their deepest thanks. “You saved more than forty thousand dollars’ worth of bullion for me, a few days ago, Buffalo Bill,” observed McGowan, with feeling, “and now you have rescued my daughter. What can I do for you to show my gratitude?” “Your thanks are more than enough, McGowan,” said the scout kindly. “I was doing some work for the government, too, you remember, and in carrying out my duty as government scout, it was surely a pleasure to find that I could serve you and Miss McGowan as I did. Only”--and the scout’s eyes twinkled as he said it--“don’t try to keep me here any longer. When we make our next start for Phœnix, I and my pards want to get away.” “Annie and I were hoping that you would remain with us for a few days, anyhow,” said McGowan. “Impossible,” said the scout. “We must leave here in the morning and take Bascomb back to Fort Apache.” Then, as he looked around, he asked: “By the way, what’s become of Dauntless Dell?” “She had to go back to the Double D Ranch, Buffalo Bill,” said McGowan. “When she left, she said she hoped you and your pards would stay here for a day or two so that she might ride over again and see you.” “Much as I should like to see my girl pard again,” said the scout, “it will be impossible for us to wait. That girl is a little brick--one of the bravest and finest young women I ever met.” “Shore she is!” cried Nomad. “Wuh!” added Little Cayuse, nodding vigorously. CHAPTER XX. ALARMING NEWS. Dress parade at Fort Grant! Five troops were engaged--all of the gallant Tenth--and the dying rays of the Arizona sun fell upon waving plumes, flashing sabers, the shimmering satin bodies of the horses, the fluttering guidons, offering a sight that stirred the pulses in unison with the strains of the regimental band. At last the troops formed in a long line, and their officers rode forward on prancing chargers and lifted their sword-points in salute of the officer in command. The sun went down, and the _boom_ of the sunset-gun rattled the windows of barracks and officers’ row. The band struck up the Star Spangled Banner. As the inspiring air echoed and reechoed across the parade-ground, Old Glory came fluttering down from its tall staff, was caught in the arms of a waiting “non-com,” and transferred to the guard-house for the night. The soldiers trotted away, the dust settled, and the shadows began to lengthen. Dress parade was over for that day.