The tragedy that occurred in this nameless valley quickly alarmed the militia of Greenstone Village.

The militia team reported to their superiors as they searched up the riverbank.

However, the group of Indians flew away as if they had put on their wings, and the militia searched for a long time without finding any trace of them.

Sergeant Scott and three soldiers searched up the Colorado River and walked more than thirty miles until they found nothing.

When I returned to Greenstone Village, it was already the afternoon of the second day, and both men and horses were tired.

"Scott!" The roar of Lieutenant George was heard by the entire militia battalion. "You son of a bitch! Lao Tzu will give you three more days! Three days! If you can't catch those damn Indians, I'm going to stab you in the ass with the barrel of a gun! ”

Scott was tired and hungry, but had no choice but to listen.

Lieutenant George was an old Virginian, hot-tempered, and clutched a large pipe all day.

As he stared at Scott fiercely, Scott had no doubt that the old thing would really swallow itself.

But at this point, Scott had to defend himself.

"Lieutenant, to the west is the mountain of Madre, and those murderers must have fled into the mountains at this time!"

"You're saying you can't, are you?" Lieutenant George sneered and said, "Scott, put away your little thoughts about trying to steal and play tricks!" Did you know that the murder in Harrison Valley has alarmed our president! ”

With a 'snap', Lieutenant George slapped a piece of paper in Scott's face. "See for yourself!"

Scott picked up the paperwork on the ground and glanced at it, it was an order from Houston asking the Greenstone Village Militia Team to catch the killer at all costs, and if necessary, to call for help from the nearby Alamo Legion!

Trembling, Scott put the paperwork back on the table, then stood upright.

"Lieutenant," Scott said cautiously, "why don't we call for help now?" ”

"Huh?" Lieutenant George turned abruptly and stared fiercely at Scott. "You mean you can't handle it, do you?"

"Uh...... Yes...... No, it's not! Scott stammered. Seeing Lieutenant George's small eyes, which had already narrowed, his heart was cold, and he quickly changed his tone and said loudly: "I mean, I promise to catch the murderer within three days!" ”

"Good, Scott!" Lieutenant George sneered and said, "You keep me firmly in mind that we are people who belong to the El Paso Legion!" Alamo's hand can't reach so long! ”

"Yes! Lieutenant! Scott said aloud.

There are three legions in Texas, namely the Alamo Legion led by Major General Travis, the Oklahoma Legion led by Major General Bowie, and the El Paso Legion led by Major General Crockett!

Nominally, all three regiments were subordinate to the Republic of Texas, but in reality, the struggle between the upper echelons made even a small sergeant like Scott feel in danger from time to time.

For example, this time, a small Harrison Valley tragedy, who would have thought that it would also be a reason for the Alamo Army to reach out to the El Paso Army?

"You remembered me, Scott!" Lieutenant George took a hard puff of his pipe and poked his finger in Scott's chest, "Houston and Austin are bent on surrendering to the United States, they are traitors to Texas!" Only Mr. Lamar is a true Texan! ”

"Yes, Lieutenant!"

The infantry camp in Greenstone Village was established during the Texas Revolutionary War. Geographically closer to the Alamo, but a stronghold of the El Paso Corps in the south.

As the Alamo Legion grew in power, he was now the last stronghold of the El Paso Legion in the south. There is no room for error.

Texas has not been at peace since independence.

The independents, led by Speaker Lamar, and the federalists, led by President Houston, have been fighting openly and covertly. Secretary of State Austin had to carry a pistol himself to work, and there was no way around it.

"Let's go! Catch the murderer within three days, don't make trouble for Lao Tzu! ”

"Okay, Lieutenant!"

……

After leaving Lieutenant George's side, Scott rode into the stable, whipped the beaver who was cleaning up horse manure, and asked him why he hadn't earned even a peso this month.

On the last day of last month, the beaver handed him 99 pesos, one short of the goal of 100 pesos. Sergeant Scott, for Beaver's honest sake, forgave him.

But these days, when I think about it, the sergeant always feels that he has suffered a big loss.

"You Indians don't have a good thing!" Sergeant Scott scolded the beaver as he whipped it. vented all the resentment he had suffered these days on the beaver.

"Sir! Spare your life, spare your life! The beaver didn't dare to dodge, but only dared to crawl on the ground, begging desperately.

Where will the sergeant care about him," said! The murderer in the Harrison Valley, does it have anything to do with you? ”

"Sir, how could I have anything to do with that group of murderers!" The beaver screamed in justification.

"I think you're the murderer!" Scott shouted.

These days, the militia has searched everywhere, but they have not found even a single clue.

Lieutenant George gave him three days - God, three days?

This kind of thing, thirty days is useless!

Scott knew he had to figure out a way to get out.

I really can't do it, hand over this beaver first!

Scott was weaving the 'evidence' in his mind, but he heard the beaver say, "Sir, I did go to the Harrison Valley before-"

"Good! Sure enough, it's you! "Scott was overjoyed.

"Sir, I once quietly went to the river valley and picked up a few gold coins!" The beaver shouted.

"What? Go get it! Scott was furious. The Indians are really not honest, and they will hide gold coins privately?

"Sir, please wait a minute!" The beaver limped back to his hut, pulled out a package from under the haystack, took it out the door, and handed it to the sergeant.

Scott jumped off his horse and opened the dirty package.

I saw two gold coins glowing brilliantly, and they were stained with black-brown blood.

He rolled up his sleeves and wiped them, satisfying them into his pocket.

Looking at the package, there was a stack of soft, golden paper—Scott's hands trembled a little.

This is not paper, this is human skin soaked in oil!

"Beaver, where did you get that?" The ecstasy on his face could no longer be hidden, he asked.

"Sir, I also picked it up from there!"

Sergeant Scott counted them, and there were twenty-one in all!

His face changed several times, and finally he coughed several times to hide his emotions. He asked, "Beaver, does anyone else know where you've been?" ”

"No one, sir! I'm going alone! The beaver replied.

"How are you going to go anywhere?"

"Sir, the crossroads are not far from there, and I was just trying to catch a fish by the river, and I happened to see it—sir, when I went, the battle was over!"

"So, you didn't see the murderer either?"

"I don't see it, sir!" The beaver replied. "I just picked up such a little thing!"

"!" Scott scolded and said to the beaver: "Don't talk about what you've been there, you know?" ”

"Yes, sir!" The beaver replied hurriedly.

"If others find out, you will become a murderer, and no one can protect you!"

"I'm not a murderer, sir! How could I be a murderer? The beaver shouted.

"Alright, stop yelling!" Scott kicked him and asked, "You guy, is there anything else hidden in the house?" ”

"No more!"

Scott sneered, got into the beaver's shed, and turned it upside down.

Finally, he walked out stupidly. "If I find out you're cheating on me, you're dead!"

The beaver was always on his knees, so frightened that he couldn't speak. "Sir, if I dare to deceive you, let me be bitten to death by a thousand snakes!"

Sergeant Scott rolled over and got on his horse. He was about to leave, but he heard the beaver say to him, "Sir, there is an Indian tribe who wants to buy me a horse!" ”

"Not for sale!" The sergeant refused without hesitation.

"They are willing to give an ounce of gold!" Beaver said.

The sergeant quickly reined in the horse's reins and frowned. "Which tribe?"

"Of the Chirikahua tribe!"

"Haven't heard of it! Is there such a tribe? The sergeant asked curiously.

"They were an offshoot of the Apache people – not a tribe, but a group of people living together. Sir, you know, the Indians can't tell who's who except themselves. ”

"Haha!" Scott laughed and said, "Well, if they're willing to give them an ounce of gold, of course you can sell it to them." Do they just need a horse? If I want a few more, can I give them a discount? ”

The beaver smiled awkwardly. "I was in contact with a little kid, and I don't think he had that much gold. ”

"Kids?"

"Hmm. Their adults are hiding in the mountains, and they dare not come out. Beaver explained.

"What's your name?"

"Sleepy Joe!" Beaver said.

"Haha!" Sergeant Scott laughed. "Do it yourself!"

So saying, he threw his horse and left.

Beavers were never bought and sold without any permission, and if caught, they were executed for horse thieves.

But this is a beaver thing, and it has nothing to do with the sergeant.

Sergeant Scott was only responsible for placing the beaver in a suitable position and then collecting the money.