"Who's that good-lookin' Indian, Jerry?" asked Fred, as the light of Fort Bayard came into sight.
"Araviapa Apache," came the reply. "He's been chasing around the Post 'most all his life. Came from the San Carlos agency, I guess, so folks called him Carl. Used to be a Dutchman named Carl here, and the Greasers called the Injun Carlito, or Little Carl. He goes by both names. He's the cool guy, you bet, and a wise one, too."
"But what does he do?" persisted the practical Fred. "He can't live on air, can he? Does he get his living for nothing?"
"Don't you think it! Not him," returned Dunk warmly. "He does a lot of work for us--trailin', and things like that. He's a bird at it."
"Yes, and he's learned to read and write," added Fly. "You kids ought to see some of the books and stuff he's got."
There was no more time for conversation, as they now drew into the Post grounds and drove up to the house occupied by the Crawfords, where the guests were to stay. The captain and two or three of his brother officers met the new arrivals. At the tale of the runaway there was great excitement on the veranda and Captain Crawford called Ike up from the drive. After examining the teamster and the boys, he gave up the effort he was making to solve the mystery of the runaway.
"It must have been a bird," laughed Dr. Rivers, who bore the title of lieutenant.
"That seems to be the only explanation," admitted the captain. "Are you sure the thing hit you, Ike?"
"Yessah," maintained the teamster stoutly. "It was the s'prise more'n anythin' else that knocked me off, Cap'n. Felt like a bird, though."
"It was too large, father," protested Jerry. "There ain't no bird as big as that. Mebbe it was an aeroplane."
The officers laughed, but Jerry stuck to it that the "thing" was not a bird. The examination ended in nothing. The boys had brought the mail over with them, so as soon as the ladies had retired the officers went over to the quartermaster's office while the four boys separated for the night.
The next day was a perfect one such as only the New Mexican hills can produce. To the north and west of Fort Bayard stretched a wilderness of deep valleys and mountain peaks as far as the Rio Gila. The Bread Pudding ranch, as the Circle B P was locally known, lay five miles to the east.