at odd intervals during the sunshiny days, far more thought and time
and attention were being given to riding, driving, tramping and picnic
parties--even croquet coming in for honorable mention--while every
night had its "hop" and some nights their ball that lasted well toward
morning, and for the first time in its history "head-quarters" was
actually gay. Time had been in the recent past when a Fort Whipple hop
consisted, as said a cynical chief commissary, in "putting on full
uniform and watching Thompson dance a waltz," there being then but one
officer at the station equipped with the requisite accomplishment. Now
there were more dancers than girl partners. The latter were in their
glory, and the married women in clover. "_Let_ them have a good time,"
said the chief, when his pragmatical adjutant would have suggested
sending some of them back to their posts to finish maps and reports
they were only neglecting here. "But they'll be getting impatient at
division head-quarters," said the man of tape and rule. It was a whip
which often told on department commanders, but not on Crook. "_Let_
them have a good time. Every one of those youngsters has been scouting
and fighting and living on bacon and beans for the last six months, and
I like to see them dance." The office-bred officer sighed, and wondered
what the papers, or Congress, would say if they knew it. The
service-tried soldier said he'd take all the raps and responsibility,
and that ended it. So here were the young gallants of the cavalry and
infantry, active, slender, sinewy, clear-eyed, bronze-cheeked fellows,
as a rule, capital dancers and riders, all-round partners, too, though
few had a penny laid by for a rainy day, and several had mortgaged pay
accounts. There was Billy Ray, from Camp Cameron, who could outride a
_vaquero_, and "Legs" Blake from McDowell, who could outclimb an
Apache, and Stryker, of the scouts, who had won fame in a year, and
"Lord" Mitchell, his classmate, whom the troopers laughed at for a fop
the first few months, and then worshipped for his daring after the
pitched battle at the Caves. There were three or four young benedicts
with better halves in the far East, who had forgotten little of their
dancing days, and not too much of their wooing, and there were lesser
lights among the subs, and two or three captains still uncaught, and
even one or two men of whom others spoke not too highly, like Craven,
and "that man Gleason," to whom Blake