Ernest was disappointed. However, he did not waste many moments by criticizing his port. As the pony entered the parade-ground, apparently being directed straight for the quarters of the commanding officer himself, almost the first white persons that Ernest saw were young Lieutenant Neal, and the tall Texan, crossing the parade-ground together. And they had seen him. With a little shout of joy, off from the deer carcass tumbled Ernest, and ran forward. The lieutenant and Mr. Carroll met him half way, and there was a great shaking of hands. “Are you all here?” demanded Ernest, breathless. “I am. Sam Houston brought me.” “Great Cæsar! Is that Sam Houston?” exclaimed the Texan. “With that Cherokee dress and those whiskers on his chin I didn’t know him. Bless my heart, but I’m glad to see you! Where did you go to? You disappeared completely. We――――” “I was under the boat,” explained Ernest. “Is that so! We saw the boat but we didn’t sight you. We swam and waded to the high bank――――” “I landed on the other side; the low side,” explained Ernest. “Quite a way down, though. I couldn’t get out from under the boat, at first.” “Lucky you did get out,” said the lieutenant, soberly. “We never thought of _that_. Well, we searched along the bank, the best we could; then we told some Indians to keep a watch-out for you, and borrowed some horses from them and rode on to the fort. Got here about midnight.” “My uncle isn’t here any more, Mr. Houston says,” faltered Ernest, his spirits dropping. “No, he isn’t, Ernest,” admitted the lieutenant. “He’s been gone about two weeks. But never mind. You’ll be cared for. Now let’s speak with General Houston a minute.” General Houston, as the lieutenant had entitled him, was sitting with dignified patience on his bob-tailed pony, as if waiting for recognition. Followed by Ernest, the lieutenant and the Texan stepped over to him. “I am Lieutenant Neal, sir,” addressed the lieutenant. “If I mistake not, I have the honor of addressing General Houston.” “The same, sir,” bowed the general. “Allow me to present Mr. Carroll, recently from Texas. You have done a great service, sir, in restoring to his friends this boy, with whom I travelled from the Mississippi River, and who I feared had been lost by an untimely accident.” “It is one of the few pleasures of my life, sir,” responded the general. “I have informed him that Sergeant John Andrews, his uncle, is no longer stationed at Fort Gibson. Does the further disposal of the boy rest with you or with me?” “I will take charge of him, and thank you,” answered the lieutenant. “Then I will consign to you this haversack, also, which is the property of the Government,” continued the general. “Good-by, sirs. Good-by, my boy. Shall you ever need a friend, you will find him in Sam Houston.” He gravely eyed the Texan. “From Texas, eh? I will speak with you anon, sir.” He touched his pony with his heel, and turning aside ambled away.