Hicks turned white and made a movement as if to draw a pistol.

Without a word from Barker three husky men sprang upon him and several pistols covered the other two men, who were ordered to dismount.

"Search him!" said Barker. "He is the man. I want to know why he wants possession of the boys."

Hicks tried to tell the lies about kidnapped nephews and stolen horses, but the teamsters shook him into silence.

"Close up," one of the men ordered. "You're too late; we know all about you."

A soiled piece of paper was found on Hicks.

"The bearer of this," it read, "is to receive $10,000 if no heirs of Col. Henry P. Deming are found before January first, 1864.

"John C. Chesterton."

"What does it mean?" demanded Barker.

"I don't know," protested Hicks. "I didn't know I had the rag and don't know where it came from."

"All right!" said the spokesman of the teamsters. "Boys, tie him to that gum-tree.

"Hicks, you have just five minutes to explain that paper and say anything else you may want to say.

"Take a look at your pistols, boys!"

Hicks began to tremble.

"Let me go," he groaned, "and I'll tell the truth."

"Tell the truth!" shouted the men, "and we'll see."

"Colonel Deming," Hicks began, "is the boys' grandfather. Their mother married against his wishes. He disinherited her, and made a will that Chesterton, a distant relative, should fall heir to the Deming plantation, which is very valuable, if no children of his daughter were found before January 1st, 1864.

"Chesterton learned about the two lads and hired me to keep the two boys out of sight. I didn't mean to harm them."

"Like blazes you didn't!" cried the spokesman. "You deserted them when the Indians broke out.

"Boys, get a rope; the fellow is too rank rotten for our bullets!"

An officer with a patrol came along and inquired what all the row was about, and the teamsters told him the story, which was corroborated by Barker.

"I don't want him hanged," Barker added, "but I don't want to see his face again.

"Hicks," he spoke calmly, turning to the prisoner, "I'll shoot you on sight, if you ever cross my trail again!"

The officer thought a minute.

"Let him go, men," he decided. "Don't soil your hands on him.

"Here," he ordered two soldiers, "take him out of our lines to that open field. He is to trot straight for the timber east. If he stops running, you shoot him.

"Hicks, if you ever show your face inside our lines again, we'll find a tree for you pretty quick. March!

"My regiment can make good use of these three horses."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Take him out of our lines to that open field."]

"What about these two fellows? Can we hang them? We've got the rope all ready." The men asked their questions half in earnest and half in grim jest.

"They were partners of Judas Hicks."

The two prisoners protested their innocence, claiming that they had believed the story of Hicks about kidnapped nephews and stolen horses.

"Give us a chance to go back north or put us to work here. We're innocent of any crime."

"That sounds good," said the officer, "the transport _Northern Star_ leaves for St. Louis to-night or to-morrow. She is short of men. Restler and Stone, take these men back to Haynes Bluff and turn them over to the captain of the _Northern Star_. Tell the captain he will furnish me a good dinner when he returns from St. Louis."

When the officer and his patrol had left, Barker turned to the group of teamsters.

"Men," he said, with a choking voice, "you have done me a great service for which I can never repay you, but if you ever come north to Minnesota, I'll show you the finest land the Lord put down on this earth."

"Will it grow cotton and sweet potatoes?" drawled one of the men.

"No, it won't do that, but it will grow everything else. Corn and wheat, fish and game, and great straight pines."

The teams of wagons ahead began to move. The drivers cracked their whips and called: "Good-bye, old man. You'll never see Hicks again. We'll come north after we get through at Vicksburg."

Barker went back and soon found Tatanka and the boys.

The three were much stirred by the news about Hicks and his two friends.

Tatanka did not try to conceal his disapproval of the escape of Hicks.

"The mule-drivers were right," he growled. "Hicks was all bad and should hang. I would have killed him and scalped him, too."

"No, you red heathen," Barker laughed at him, "you wouldn't, you are not in the country of murderous Little Crow. You are in the lines of Christian soldiers.

"You had better be careful with your big talk or the soldiers will put you in the guardhouse."

"I would be glad to live in the guardhouse, if I could first scalp Hicks."

"You wouldn't live in it very long. They would take you out and shoot you."

"They could," Tatanka persisted angrily, "if I had killed Hicks. A Sioux is not afraid of death."

"You black-souled Indian," Barker chided him good-naturedly. "I'm glad you didn't see him. Now, we'll all walk back to town. It'll be dinner-time when we get there. Tatanka, you'll feel less revengeful after you have filled your ribs with pumpkin-pie and bacon.

"After dinner you can scout for Hicks and if you find him, you may scalp him, but if he keeps going the way he went across that field, he'll be in Alabama to-night."