itchmen, miners? Think of that, Hazzard! That isn't
fighting Indians, with a regiment at your back. You mark what I say!"

"Well, mobs, miners, or Indians, our young officers have had to meet
all kinds at times," said the colonel; "and if ever Graham is up
against them, Bonner, I'm thinking you'll hear of it."

And, oddly enough, before he was one month older, sitting in his office
in Chicago, Bonner was hearing it with a vengeance. There was the
mischief to pay in at least one of his mines. Oddly enough, before he
was one year older, George Montrose Graham, graduated cadet, was "up
against them," all three--mobs, miners, and Indians. How he met them
and how he merited the colonel's confidence let them judge who read.

CHAPTER I

FROM THE GRAY TO THE BLUE

It was just after sunset of one of the longest days of the loveliest of
our summer months. The roar of the evening gun had gone re-echoing
through the Highlands of the Hudson. The great garrison flag was still
slowly fluttering earthward, veiled partially from the view of the
throng of spectators by the snowy cloud of sulphur smoke drifting
lazily away upon the wing of the breeze. Afar over beyond the barren
level of the cavalry plain the gilded hands of the tower-clock on "the
old Academic" were blended into one in proclaiming to all whom it might
concern that it was five minutes past the half-hour 'twixt seven and
eight, and there were girls in every group, and many a young fellow in
the rigid line of gray and white before them, resentful of the fact
that dress parade was wofully late and long, with tattoo and taps only
two hours or so away. The season for the regular summer "hops" had not
yet begun, for this was away back in the eighties, when many another
old West Point fashion still prevailed; but there was to be an informal
dance in the dining-room of the hotel, and it couldn't come off until
after supper, and supper had to be served to some people who were
"pokey" enough to care to come by late boat, or later train, and were
more eager to see the cadets on parade than to seek Mine Host Craney's
once bountiful table.

What made it more exasperating was that rumors were afloat to the
effect that the adjutant had long and important orders to publish, and
this would still further prolong the parade. Cadet Private Frazier,
First Class, one of the best dancers in the battalion, was heard to
mutter to his next-door neighbor in the front rank of the color