CHAPTER XXVII
WITH BACKS TO THE WALL
HE WAS a young fellow, with bold black eyes, a little jaunty mustache, and a mouth inclined to laugh, but what I stared at in open-eyed astonishment, was his broad-brimmed hat, and natty gray cavalry jacket.
"Some surprise party, I reckon," he chuckled grimly. "What was this, a church wedding, dear boy? Here, Wharton, kindly relieve the gentleman of his arsenal; ah! some assortment, I see. Your pardon, Madam, but occasionally even the fair sex travel armed these days, and I should hate to be harsh. Thank you, very much; Wharton take the lady's gun also. It's all right, boys."
To my unbounded amazement up from the floor, where they had been lying concealed beneath the benches a considerable number of men came scrambling to their feet. I could not count them in the dim light, but those nearest me were gray clad—troopers, from their short jackets—with carbines in their hands. Wharton, our revolvers safe in his grasp, grinned and stepped behind his officer.
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