His
junior, Mr. Clayton, had joined but the year before, and this threw Mr.
Field in command of the leading platoon and to the side of the leading
guide. Now, as the senior officer took the head of column and Mr.
Clayton fell back to the rear, the silence of the first mile of march
was broken and, though sitting erect in saddle and forbidden to lounge
or "slouch," the troop began its morning interchange of chaff and
comment. Every mother's son of them rejoiced to be once more afield with
a chance of stirring work ahead.

"It's time to throw out our advance, Field," said Ray, in kindly,
cordial tone, as he scanned the low divide still some miles ahead and
reined in beside the stern-faced young soldier. "Send Sergeant Scott
forward with three men and the same number on each flank--corporals in
charge."

He had more than liked Webb's adjutant. He had been his stanchest
friend and supporter among the troop and company commanders, and was
eager to befriend him now. He had expressed no wish to have him sent on
the hurried move, but well he knew the post commander's reasons and
approved his course. Still, now that Field was being removed, for the
time at least, from the possibility of an entangling alliance that might
prove disastrous, in every way in his power Ray meant to show the
mortified, indeed sorely angered, officer that his personal regard for
him had suffered no change whatever. If he could succeed in winning
Field's confidence it might well be that he could bring him to see that
there were good and sufficient grounds for the post commander's
action--that for Field's own good, in fact, it was a most desirable
move. The soul of loyalty and square dealing himself, Ray had never for
a moment dreamed that anything other than a foolish escapade had
occurred--a ride by moonlight, perhaps, demanded of her devotee by a
thoughtless, thoroughbred coquette, whose influence over the young
fellow was beginning to mar his usefulness, if not indeed his future
prospects. Just what to think of Nanette Flower Ray really did not know.
Marion, his beloved better half, was his unquestioned authority in all
such matters, and it was an uncommon tenet of that young matron never to
condemn until she had cause. Instinctively she shrank from what she had
seen of Miss Flower, even though her woman's eye rejoiced in the
elegance of Miss Flower's abundant toilets; and, conscious of her
intuitive aversion, she would utter no word that might late