“May I speak to you, sir?” addressing the younger. “Certainly, Charlie--What luck?” was the reply. And then, for a moment, they waited,--Young Van half glancing at his brother, Charlie summoning every ounce of this wonderful new sense of responsibility for the ordeal which he saw was to come, Old Van meaning unmistakably to take a hand in the discussion. “We lost six mules last night, Mr. Vandervelt,” said Charlie, at length, plainly addressing Young Van. “We lost six mules, did we?” mimicked the veteran, breaking in before his brother could reply. “What do you mean by coming here with such a story, you--?” The tirade was on. Old Van applied to the cook such epithets as men did not employ at that time to any great extent on the plains. All the depression of the day before, which he had not succeeded in sleeping off, came out in a series of red-hot phrases, which, to Young Van’s, and to his own still greater surprise, Charlie took. Young Van, looking every second for a blow or even for a shot, could not see that he so much as twitched a muscle. Finally Old Van paused, not because he was in any danger of running out of epithets, but because something in the attitude of both Charlie and his brother tended to clarify the situation in his mind. Gus was standing almost as squarely as Charlie, and there were signs of tension about his mouth. It was no time for the engineers to develop a conflict of authority. When his brother had stopped talking, Young Van said shortly, “How did you come to let them get away, Charlie?” “I fell asleep, Mr. Vandervelt,--it must have been after three this morning, and I didn’t wake up until four.” “But what was the matter with your men?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir. They must have been asleep, too.” “Who was on guard at that point?” “A man named Foulk--one of the iron squad.” “Yes, I know him. He is trustworthy, I think.” “Oh, yes, sir, you can trust him, as far as having anything to do with those thieves is concerned.” “But that won’t help us much if he can’t keep awake a few hours. Where is he now?” Charlie hesitated. “I--I tied him up.” “Bring him here.” Charlie went off to obey. And Old Van returned to his ablutions. A moment more and the unfortunate sentinel was being marched across to headquarters, under the guidance and the momentum of a huge red hand. “Here he is, Mr. Vandervelt.” Young Van looked at the two. Foulk appeared honestly crestfallen. Then, “Let him go, Charlie,” he said. And turning to Foulk, he merely added, “You’ll get your night’s sleep after this, my friend. We want no men on guard who can’t be relied on--and it’s evident that you can’t. Now go and eat your breakfast, and get to work. See that this doesn’t happen again, Charlie.”