For years, wherever I went, no matter how dangerous the errand, my new
friend went along. The first time he followed me I still remember
vividly. I had left the Post on a five days' scout, and was
particularly anxious that no one should know the direction I was to
take.
When I was four or five miles from the Post I looked back and saw a
solitary horseman riding in my direction about a mile in my rear. When
I stopped he stopped. I rode on for a little way and looked around
again. He was exactly the same distance behind me, and pulled his horse
up when I halted. This maneuver I repeated several times, always with
the same result. Considerably disquieted by this mysterious pursuit, I
decided to discover the reason for it. I whipped up my horse and when I
had put a sandhill between myself and the man behind I made a quick
detour through a ravine, and came up in his rear. Then I boldly rode up
till I came abreast of him.
He swung around when he heard me coming, and blushed like a girl when
he saw how I had tricked him.
"Look here, White," I demanded, "what the devil are you following me in
this way for?"
"Mrs. Cody said I could follow you if I wanted to," he said, "and,
well, I just followed you, that's all."
That was all he would say. But I knew that he had come along to keep me
from getting hurt if I was attacked, and would rather die than admit
his real reason.
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