Major Webster is an old Indian fighter, and I thought that if you asked him, he might be able to get some news of my son. Will you do this for me?"
"I will, gladly, but I have not much hope of the result."
"Perhaps it will amount to nothing," said the old soldier with a sigh, "but it is the first chance I have had in many years. All my inquiries of the war department resulted in nothing. Perhaps you may have better luck."
"I hope so," replied Dick gently. "I will make some inquiries. What is your son's name?"
"He was christened William, but his friends in the army called him Corporal Bill."
"How would Major Webster know him?"
"Oh, easily enough. I have his picture."
The veteran drew a faded photograph from his pocket, and held the card so that Dick could see it. "That's him," said the old man proudly. The young millionaire saw the photograph of a youthful soldier in uniform.
"Your son would be much older than that now; wouldn't he, Captain Handlee?"
"Yes, I suppose so. I think he must have been injured in some way, and forgotten his name. Otherwise he would have written to me. But I know another way in which you could recognize him."
"How?"
"He was the best shot in his company. He
