hat you can," was all she said.

"The time-honored tale of Indian uprising," said Willett airily.
"Something I've heard every six weeks, I should say, since they gave me
a sword."

"But they've doubled the guard."

"Only changed it, I fancy. The general wants some few cavalrymen for a
scout in the Mazatzal."

Mrs. Stannard knew better, but held her peace. The object at least was
laudable, if not the lie. All three had risen now and were standing at
the edge of the veranda, Mrs. Archer's gentle, anxious eyes following
the soldierly form just vanishing within the shadows at the office,
Lilian's gaze fixed upon the handsome features of the young soldier
before her.

"'Tonio brought news, did he not?" asked Mrs. Stannard.

"'Tonio had to tell _some_thing, you know, to cover his mysterious
movements. 'Tonio's story may be cock and bull for all we know. It is
just such a yarn as I have heard told many a time and oft in the
Columbia basin. Most Indians are born liars, and 'Tonio has everything
to gain and nothing to lose in telling a believable whopper now. 'Tonio
says his people are persecuted saints, and all others perjured sinners."

And just then, through the silence of the night, there rose upon the
air, distant yet distinct, the prolonged, anguished, heart-broken wail
of a woman in dire distress--a Rachel mourning for her children, and
refusing to be comforted. There was instant scraping of chairs on the
hospital porch, and one or two shadows vanished within the dimly
lighted doorway. "Oh, poor Mrs. Bennett!" cried Mrs. Archer. "I'm going
over a little while. Come, Lilian."

"Let me go with you," said Mrs. Stannard, ever sympathetic with young
hearts and hopes. But Lilian had been well trained and--went, the two
wives and mothers walking arm in arm in front, the other two, the girl
of eighteen, the youth of twenty-five, gradually dropping behind. The
elders entered the building, following the wife of the hospital
steward; the juniors paced slowly onward to the edge of the low bluff
overlooking the moonlit valley, with the shining stream murmuring over
its shallows in the middle distance. Lilian's white hand still rested
on the strong arm that drew it so closely to the soldier's side, and
both were for the moment silent. He seemed strangely quiet and
thoughtful, and she stood beside him now with downcast eyes and
fluttering heart, for, as she would have followed her mother, he had
bent his head and, almost in wh