Only when Jack and I had assured ourselves that we were absolutely alone did I dare dip into his saddle pockets and pull forth the treasure.

I will say in passing that I don't believe there is another scout in the West that would have brought a full bottle of whisky three hundred miles.

But Jack was "bone dry." As Crawford refused to join me, and I was never a lone drinker, I invited General Carr over to sample the bottle.

We were just about to have a little drink for two when into camp rode young Lathrop, the reporter for the Associated Press to whom we had given the name of Death Rattler.

Death Rattler appeared to have scented the whisky from afar, for he had no visible errand with us.