nce he opened on the major, and showed that amazed New Englander
something of the contents of Moreau's Indian kit, including the now
famous hunting pouch, all found with Stabber's village. A precious
scoundrel, as it turned out, was this same Moreau, with more sins to
answer for than many a convicted jail bird, and with not one follower
left to do him reverence except, perhaps, that lonely girl, self
secluded at the Hays. Hay himself, though weak, was beginning to sit up.
Dade, Blake and Ray were all once more housed in garrison. Truscott and
Billings, with their hardy troopers, had taken temporary station at the
post, until the general had decided upon the disposition of the array of
surrendered Indians, nearly three hundred in number, now confined under
strong guard in the quartermaster's corral at the flats, with six "head
devils," including Eagle Wing, in the garrison prison.

All the officers, with two exceptions, were again for duty at Frayne.
Webb, laid by the heels at Beecher, his feet severely frozen, and
Beverly Field, who, recalled from a brief and solemn visit to a far
southern home, had reached the post at nightfall of the 10th. There had
hardly been allowed him time to uplift a single prayer, to receive a
word of consolation from the lips of friends and kindred who loved the
honored father, borne to his last resting place. "Come as soon as
possible," read the message wired him by Ray, and, though the campaign
was over, it was evident that something was amiss, and, with all his
sorrow fresh upon him, the lad, sore in body and soul, had hastened to
obey.

And it was Ray who received and welcomed him and took him straightway to
his own cosy quarters, that Mrs. Ray, and then the Blakes, might add
their sympathetic and cordial greeting,--ere it came to telling why it
was that these, his friends despite that trouble that could not be
talked of, were now so earnest in their sympathy,--before telling him
that his good name had become involved, that there were allegations
concerning him which the chief had ordered "pigeon-holed" until he
should come to face them. A pity it is that Bill Hay could not have been
there, too, but his fever had left him far too weak to leave his room.
Only Ray and Blake were present and it was an interview not soon, if
ever, to be forgotten.

"I'm no hand at breaking things gently, Field," said Ray, when finally
the three were closeted together in the captain's den. "It used to worry