her home-coming nothing less--to Colonel Landcraft, they found
that grizzled warrior in an electrical state of excitement. He was
moving in quick little charges, but with a certain grim system in all
of them, between desk and bookcases, letter files, cabinets, and back
to his desk again. He drew a document here, tucked one away there,
slipped an elastic about others assembled on his desk, and clapped a
sheaf of them in his pocket.

Major King saluted within the door.

"I have the honor to report the safe return of the detachment
dispatched to Alamito Ranch for the convoy of Miss Landcraft," he
said.

Colonel Landcraft returned the salute, and stood stiffly while his
officer spoke.

"Very well, sir," said he. Then flinging away his official stiffness,
he met Frances half-way as she ran to meet him, and enfolded her to
his breast, just as if his dry old heart knew that she had come to him
through perils.

Breathlessly she told him the story, leaving no word unsaid that would
mount to the credit of Alan Macdonald. Colonel Landcraft was as hot as
blazing straw over the matter. He swore that he would roast Saul
Chadron's heart on his sword, and snatched that implement from the
chair where it hung as he spoke, and buckled it on with trembling
hand.

King interposed to tell him that Chadron was not at the ranch, and
begged the colonel to delegate to him the office of avenger of this
insult and hazard that Frances had suffered at the hands of his men.
For a moment Colonel Landcraft held the young officer's eye with
thankful expression of admiration, then he drew himself up as if in
censure for wasted time, saluted, took a paper from his desk, and said
with grave dignity:

"It must fall to you, Major King, to demand the reparation for this
outrage that I shall not be here to enforce. I am ordered to
Washington, sir, to make my appearance before the retiring board. The
department has vested the command of this post in you, sir--here is
the order. My soldiering days are at an end."

He handed the paper to Major King, with a salute. With a salute the
young officer took it from his hand, an eager light in his eyes, a
flush springing to his pale face. Frances clung to her father's arm, a
little trembling moan on her lips as if she had received a mortal
hurt.

"Never mind, never mind, dear heart," said the old man, a shake in his
own voice. Frances, looking up with her great pity into his stern, set
face, saw a tear cre