."

And at nine o'clock the little party was on its way through the sharp
and wintry night, the general and Captain Blake, side by side, ahead,
the aide-de-camp and Mr. Field close following. Dr. Waller, who had been
sent for, met them near the office. The sentries at the guard-house
were being changed as the five tramped by along the snapping and
protesting board walk, and a sturdy little chap, in fur cap and
gauntlets, and huge buffalo overcoat, caught sight of them and, facing
outward, slapped his carbine down to the carry--the night signal of
soldier recognition of superior rank as practised at the time.

"Tables are turned with a vengeance," said the general, with his quiet
smile. "That's little Kennedy, isn't it? I seem to see him everywhere
when we're campaigning. Moreau was going to eat his heart out next time
they met, I believe."

"So he said," grinned Blake, "before Winsor's bullet fetched him. Pity
it hadn't killed instead of crippling him."

"He's a bad lot," sighed the general. "Wing won't fly away from Kennedy,
I fancy."

"Not if there's a shot left in his belt," said Blake. "And Ray is
officer-of-the-day. There'll be no napping on guard this night."

At the barred aperture that served for window on the southward front, a
dark face peered forth in malignant hate as the speakers strode by. But
it shrank back, when the sentry once more tossed his carbine to the
shoulder, and briskly trudged beneath the bars. Six Indians shared that
prison room, four of their number destined to exile in the distant
East,--to years, perhaps, within the casemates of a seaboard fort--the
last place on earth for a son of the warlike Sioux.

"They know their fate, I understand," said Blake, as the general moved
on again.

"Oh, yes. Their agent and others have been here with Indian Bureau
orders, permitting them to see and talk with the prisoners. Their
shackles are to be riveted on to-night. Nearly time now, isn't it?"

"At tattoo, sir. The whole guard forms then, and the four are to be
moved into the main room for the purpose. I am glad this is the last of
it."

"Yes, we'll start them with Flint at dawn in the morning. He'll be more
than glad to get away, too. He hasn't been over lucky here, either."

A strange domestic--(the McGrath having been given warning and removed
to Sudsville) showed them into the trader's roomy parlor, the largest
and most pretentious at the post. Hay had lavished money on his home and
lov