HE SOUNDED THE RETREAT.
Dawson's trial and confession settled it all. He himself was the thief, who sought in this way to replace the money lost in gambling and to throw upon Fred Waller, should he escape, the burden of the crime. But a merciful God had watched over the boy in his brave and loyal effort; had guided him in safety through a host of savage foes, and led him on to honor and vindication in the end. For months there was no happier boy on all the wide frontier than the little hero of the Sidney route; no happier father than brave old Sergeant Waller.
Long years afterward, riding one evening into a cavalry camp on the Southern plains, Captain Cross and the writer noted a tall, blue-eyed, bronzed-cheeked trooper, whose twirling mustache was almost the color of the faded yellow of the chevrons on his sleeve. Despite dust and the rough prairie dress, no finer soldier had met their eyes in the long column that went flitting by.
"Who is that young first sergeant?"
"That?" answered Cross in surprise. "Don't you know who that is? Why, man, that's Charlton's old Trumpeter Fred."
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.
Punctuation has been corrected without note.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows:
Page 22: fellowed changed to followed
Page 70: aint changed to ain't