t the
Point she had never seen more beautiful dancing. Even when her stanchest
friend, Mrs. Blake, pounced upon her with fond, anxious, welcoming
words, and Mrs. Ray, seeing it all, broke from her partner's encircling
arm, and sped to add her greeting, the child could hardly regain
self-control, and one loving-hearted woman cried herself to sleep that
night for the woe that had come into the soft and tender eyes which had
first beamed with joy at sight of Beverly Field, then filled with sudden
dread immeasurable.

But the major sought to block that morning ride in vain. The impetuous
will of the younger soldier prevailed, as he might have known it would,
and from the rear gallery of his quarters, with his strong fieldglass,
Major Webb watched the pair fording the Platte far up beyond Pyramid
Butte. "Going over to that damned Sioux village again," he swore
between his set teeth. "That makes the third time she's headed him there
this week," and with strange annoyance at heart he turned away to seek
comfort in council with his stanch henchman, Captain Ray, when the
orderly came bounding up the steps with a telegraphic despatch which the
major opened, read, turned a shade grayer and whistled low.

"My compliments to Captains Blake and Ray," said he, to the silent young
soldier, standing attention at the doorstep, "and say I should be glad
to see them here at once."

That night the sentries had just called off half past one when there was
some commotion at the guard-house. A courier had ridden in post haste
from the outlying station of Fort Beecher, far up under the lee of the
Big Horn range. The corporal of the guard took charge of his reeking
horse, while the sergeant led the messenger to the commander's quarters.
The major was already awake and half dressed. "Call the adjutant," was
all he said, on reading the despatch, and the sergeant sped away. In
less than five minutes he was back.

"I could get no answer to my knock or ring, sir, so I searched the
house. The adjutant isn't there!"

CHAPTER II

ABSENT FROM DUTY

For a moment the major stood in silence; then, briefly saying, "Call
Captain Ray," turned again to the dimly lighted hallway of his
commodious quarters, (the women thought it such a shame there should be
no "lady of the house" for the largest and finest of the long line known
as "Officers' Row") while the sergeant of the guard scurried away to the
soldier home of the senior cavalry captain on