at the jailer's where Charlton and the rest of the detachment with myself had spent the night, they opened up with a long and very strange story-- Peters, the spokesman for the deserters, declared that two detectives (?) or, as they called themselves--"_constables_"--had followed them from near Weatherford, on the Bear Creek road, and arrested them. Instead of being armed as Sergeant Varily had informed the writer, they (the deserters) had parted with all of their carbines before reaching W---- for a good round sum. The pseudo detectives, therefore, found it a comparatively easy matter, with their double barrel shot guns to persuade the unarmed soldiers to "throw up their hands"-- They had even started to turn back to Weatherford, when at the suggestion of one of their number negotiations were opened by which they were released by the fake constables--but, at the sacrifice of all the "greenbacks" the entire party possessed-- After this compulsory squeeze, the detectives (?) and their plucked friends parted company. The writer resolved, upon his return, to investigate this matter and if the deserter's story proved true--and they had all corroborated Peters' statement--to secure the arrest and indictment of these Border Sharks. The march back was cold and bitter-- We were more than 100 miles from Fort R---- No handcuffs or irons could be obtained--and it was decided not to "rope them"-- Thick ice was in all the streams-- Calling Peters, the most intelligent of the prisoners, to me, the writer laid down the law: "Peters, I am going to march you to Fort R---- and I want no trouble; tell the men they shall be well fed and they shall have shelter whenever it is possible to obtain it-- Corporal Charlton will be placed in direct charge of you--'fall in'--the men in the middle of the road in column of twos"-- Then turning to the men--so that all could hear me--I added: "You men must keep the middle of the road and obey all orders issued through Corporal C---- by me, without any question or discussion; Any movement by you to bolt the trail, or to escape into the chaparral will only result in your being shot down-- You can talk and smoke and have freedom of movement--but you know both of us well enough to understand that there will be no trifling"-- At 11 a. m. we started and camped at the Widow Jewell's ranch, 15 miles from Hillsboro-- Placing the men in an open corn crib--assigning each a sleeping place and posting a man at the log door--he was ordered to "shoot the first man who left that position without authority from me". This was said loudly in the hearing of every man, and he was then asked if he understood it.