In order to make plain what was taking place at the main camp during Carhart’s absence, we must go back to that evening during which so many things had come up to be disposed of before the chief could leave for Sherman and Crockett and Paradise. To begin with, Dimond came riding in at dusk with a canteen of clear water which he laid on the table about which the engineers were sitting. To Carhart, when he had unscrewed the cap and taken a deep draught, it tasted like Apollinaris. “First rate!” he exclaimed; “first rate!” Then he passed it to Old Van, who smacked his lips over it. “Where did he find this?” Carhart asked. “Eighteen or twenty miles ahead.” “Plenty of it?” “He thinks so,” he says, “but he’s gone on to find more.” “Are the Apaches bothering him?” “We’ve had a pop at ’em now and then. He says he hopes to have some beadwork for you when he sees you again. There was one fellow came too near one night, and Mr. Scribner hit him, but the others carried him off before we could get the beads. He sent me back to guide the wagons to the well if you want to send ’em.” “Well,” said Carhart, when Dimond had gone, “we have water now, anyway. The next question is about these thieves. You say that five animals were stolen while I was away. When the first roads went through, they had regular troops to guard the work, and I don’t know that we can improve on the plan. I’ll look the matter up when I get to Sherman.” But an hour later, when he left his division engineer and stepped outside for a last look at “Texas,” he found Charlie hanging about near the stable tent. The cook approached him, and made it awkwardly but firmly plain that he had heard a rumor to the effect that Mr. Carhart was going to Sherman for regular troops, and that, if the rumor were true, he, Charlie, would leave. No questions were necessary, for Carhart had never thought Jack Flagg the only deserter in camp. He mused a moment; then he looked up thoughtfully at the tall, loose-jointed, but well-set-up figure of the cook. “Do you know anything about military drill and sentry duties?” he asked abruptly. Charlie, taken aback, hesitated. “Never mind answering. We’ll say that you do. Now, if I were to put you in charge of the business, give you all the men and rifles you need, could you guarantee to guard this camp?” Charlie’s face wore a curious mixture of expressions. “Well, speak up.” “I rather guess I could.” “I can depend on you, can I?” “You won’t get the regulars, then?” “No, I won’t get them.” “Then you can depend on me.” “I want you to get about it this morning. Mr. Gus Vandervelt will give you everything you need. Make the watches short and distribute them among a good many of the men, so that nobody will be worked too hard.”