Still, the progress was not fast enough to suit the impatient Colonel, who had an eye to the report he would have to make to the Brigadier General, who was a Regular. "Capt. McGillicuddy," commanded he, turning in his saddle, "send forward a Corporal and five men for an advance guard." "Corporal Klegg, take five men and go to the front," commanded the Captain. "Now you b'yes, get ahead as fast as you can. Get a move on them durty spalpanes of tamesters. We must get back to camp before this storm strikes us. Shove out, now, as if the divil or Jahn Morgan was after yez." It was awful double-quicking over that rocky, rutty road, but taking Shorty and four others. Si went on the keen jump to arrive hot and breathless on the banks of the creek. There he found a large bearded man wearing an officer's slouched hat sitting on a log, smoking a black pipe, and gazing calmly on the ruck of wagons piled up behind one stalled in the creek, which all the mules they could hitch to it had failed to pull out. It was the Wagon Master, and his calmness was that of exhaustion. He had yelled and sworn himself dry, and was collecting another fund of abuse to spout at men and animals. "Here, why don't you git a move on them wagons?" said Si hotly, for he was angered at the man's apparent indifference. "'Tend to your own business and I'll tend to mine," said the Wagon Master, sullenly, without removing his pipe or looking at Si. "Look here, I'm a Corporal, commanding the advance guard," said Si. "I order you!" This seemed to open the fountains of the man's soul. "You order me?" he yelled, "you splay-footed, knock-kneed, chuckled- headed paper-collared, whitegloved sprat from a milk-sick prairie. Corporal! I outrank all the Corporals from here to Christmas of next year." "The gentleman seems to have something on his mind," grinned Shorty. "Mebbe his dinner didn't set well." "Shorty?" inquired Si, "how does a Wagon Master rank? Seems to me nobody lower'n a Brigadier-General should dare talk to me that way." "Dunno," answered Shorty, doubtfully. "Seems as if I'd heard some of them Wagon Masters rank as Kurnels. He swears like one." "Corporal!" shouted the Wagon Master with infinite scorn. "Measly $2-a- month water toter for the camp-guard, order me!" and he went off into a rolling stream of choice "army language." "He must certainly be a Kurnel," said Shorty. "Here," continued the Wagon Master, "if you don't want them two shoat- brands jerked offen you, jump in and get them wagons acrost. That's what you were sent to do. Hump yourself, if you know what's good for you. I've done all I can. Now it's your turn." Dazed and awed by the man's authoritativeness the boys ran down to the water to see what was the trouble.