ONE
CLOUD almost rode upon th~ Indians grazing
horse herd before he realized it;~
The summer sun had been b~ring down upon
him for hours now， sapping his energy， stealing
from him the vigilance that he normally never lost
while riding across these fringes of Comanche
country. In this unrelenting heat it was easy to
drowse in the saddle， to let one s mind roam the
thousand miles and more to the smoky battlefields
of Virginia.
There， even now， angry cannons thundered and
men died in the blast of shellfire.
But here， in these rolling hills that marked the
western edge of the Texas cross timbers， it was still
and quiet..， so very quiet.
He saw the horses and yanked hard on the hair
reins， pulling his sorrel back into the green cover of
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