Joe harnessed the mules, hitched them, and climbed into the wagon seat. It was lonely, forlorn, because Emma was not beside him. For the first time in days the Trail was a tedious one, utterly lacking in inspiration and joy. Joe drove the mules at a fast walk. Two hours later Ellis rode back up the Trail and reined in beside the wagon. "The camp's ahead," he called. "I told them you were coming." "What did they say?" "We're to see the commander, Major Dismuke." The camp was built on top of a hill, probably for better defense, and the timber around it had been cleared. Primitive compared to Laramie's splendor, Camp Axton consisted of log buildings and a log stockade. There were a few tents, probably erected by recently arrived troops because the camp itself did not have accommodations for them. But the flag waved proudly and the sentry at the gate was very brisk and military. He stood aside to let them enter. For a moment, Joe wished mightily that Sergeant Dunbar could be here. Dunbar, who knew the army, would probably know how to cut any red tape that might be involved and certainly he'd know just what to do. But Dunbar wasn't here and Joe had to do the best he could. He drove to a single big pine that had been allowed to stand inside the stockade and brought his team to a halt in its shade. He tied them to an iron ring imbedded in the tree for that purpose, and looked back at Emma. Her face was taut with anxiety. "She's very warm, Joe. I'll stay with her. Barbara can let the youngsters out to stretch their legs." "Keep them near the wagon, will you?" Joe addressed his daughter. "We'll be back as soon as possible." "Yes, Daddy." Joe turned to confront a trim young sergeant. "Mr. Tower?" "That's right." "This way, sir." He led Joe to one of the log buildings and stood aside to let him enter. With a disarming grin, Ellis entered too. Joe looked at the man who sat behind the desk. Major Dismuke was perhaps forty-five, and his was the bearing that only a lifetime of soldiering can impart. His hair was short, graying at the temples, and it surmounted a face that seemed chiseled out of solid granite. Cool eyes appraised Joe and Ellis, but never for a second was there any departure from military briskness or any indication that the taut mouth could smile. Major Dismuke was a good and efficient officer but he was also a stern one. He knew all the regulations by heart and he enforced them as they were written. "Mr. Tower?" "Yes." Major Dismuke leaned forward on the desk and rested his chin lightly in his right hand. "You have an army mule in your possession?" "Guess you're right." "You guess? Don't you know?" "We have one." "Where did you get it?" "From a couple of trappers." "_Where_ did you get it?" "Maybe sixty miles down the Trail." "Describe the trappers." Briefly Joe described the two men while the officer listened. He looked searchingly at Joe. "Did you know, when you received this animal, that it was army property?"