The sergeant stooped, and placing his
hand under her chin raised her head upward and laid his bronze cheek
affectionately upon it. "Well, Vicky," he said, "there is but one
sergeant in the world to you, and he is here, isn't he?"
"That's so, sir," exclaimed Corporal Frank, addressing me. "We never
sent her to anybody but you, the sergeant, and the cook."
"True enough. I'll have to send her to the cook--the only one now in
camp to whom she has borne messages. As he is the dispenser of fine
bones and dainties, and she has had nothing to eat since morning,
perhaps it is as well he is to receive this message. Here, Vic,"
placing the chip once more in her mouth, "take this stick to the
cook--go!"
The setter looked at me an instant, then at the sergeant and corporal,
walked to the door, looked out, and then glanced questioningly at me.
"Yes, little one; the cook--go!"
She bounded through the doorway and turned the corner of the butte at
a run, bearing our summons to our comrades at Los Valles Grandes.
For some time after the departure of Vic the sergeant and I stood at
our windows and gloomily watched the darkness deepen in the woods.
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