The general was not a military man, but his title had been conferred in recognition of the fact that he was a born leader. Wherever he went the general assumed the reins of government, and his administration had always been popular as well as judicious. But at this particular moment the general seemed to feel unequal to what was evidently his duty, and he, like a skillful general, sought a properly qualified assistant, and the reporter seemed to him to be just the man he wanted. "Spidertracks," said the general, with an air in which authority and supplication were equally prominent, "you've told an awful sight of lies in your time. Don't deny it, now--nobody that ever reads the papers will b'leeve you. Now's yer chance to put yer gift of gab to a respectable use. The lady's bothered, and wants to say somethin' or ask somethin', and she'll understand your lingo better'n mine. Fire away now, lively!" The ex-shorthand-writer seemed complimented by the general's address, and stepping forward and raising the remains of what had once been a hat, said: "Can I serve you in any way, madame?" The lady glanced at him quickly and searchingly, and then, seeming assured of the reporter's honesty, replied: "I am looking for an old acquaintance of mine--one Major Axell." "He is not in camp, ma'am," said Spidertracks. "He was at Rum Valley a few days ago, when our party was organized to come here." "I was there yesterday," said the lady, looking greatly disappointed, "and was told he started for here a day or two before." "Some mistake, ma'am, I assure you," replied Spidertracks. "I should have known of his arrival if he had come. I'm an old newspaper man, ma'am, and can't get out of the habit of getting the news." The lady turned away, but seemed irresolute. The reporter followed her. "If you will return to Rum Yalley, ma'am, I'll find the major for you, if he is hereabouts," said he. "You will be more comfortable there, and I will be more likely than you to find him." The lady hesitated for a moment longer; then she drew from her pocket a diary, wrote a line or two on one of its leaves, tore it out and handed it to the reporter. "I will accept your offer, and be very grateful for it, for I do not bear this mountain traveling very well. If you find him, give him this scrawl and tell him where I am--that will be sufficient." "Trust me to find him, ma'am," replied Spidertracks. "And as the stage is just starting, and there won't be another for a week, allow me to see you into it. Any baggage?" "Only a small hand-bag in the tent," said she. They hurried off together, Spidertracks found the bag, and five minutes later was bowing and waving his old hat to the cloud of dust which the departing stage left behind it. But when even the dust itself had disappeared, he drew from his pocket the paper the fair passenger had given him.