"I TOLD you I had to have some
clothes."
"Lopez ought to court-martial you. What are you going to do with
that junk, now that you have it? You can't take it with you on the
march."
"You wait and see," said the other. "I'm going to be comfortable,
if--" He paused, with a peculiar, startled expression on his face.
"Did you hear anything?" he queried after a moment. "No. What?"
"Oh, nothing." The two men rode on in silence for a time, then
Leslie said: "Queer thing happened back there while those Romeos
were popping at me. I heard a baby crying."
"A baby?"
"Sure. I suppose it was the washerwoman's kid. When we flushed her
she probably vamped out and left it in the grass. Anyhow, it let
up an awful holler."
Jacket and the other loot-laden soldiers had been sent on ahead,
together with those troopers who were sharing mounts with the
rescued prisoners; they were now waiting perhaps two miles from
town for their companions to overtake them. As the column came up
and halted, O'Reilly addressed a remark to Leslie Branch, but in
the middle of it the faint, unmistakable complaint of a child came
to his ears.
"Listen!" he exclaimed. "What on earth--"
"I've been hearing it right along," Branch said. "I--I thought I
had the willies."
The nearest riders abruptly ceased their chatter; they questioned
one another mutely, doubting their own ears.
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