tion to Frayne forthwith, and all his remaining
troops except one of foot. "Damnation! I've only got two companies of
foot," he screamed, in the shrill treble of piping senility. "And they
mean to rob me of my cavalry, too! 'C' troop is ordered to be held in
readiness for special service."

The transportation, consisting of three wagons and two ambulances, with
the somber company of infantry, started next day, however, and Dean,
with eager expectancy kept his men in camp, cooked rations ready,
ammunition pouches filled, arms and equipments overhauled and in perfect
order, horses examined and reshod, ready for the word that might come
any minute and carry him--he knew not whither. Folsom and the girls had
to drive back to dinner without him. Despite the permission sent by the
colonel, he would not leave his troop and go in town. So back they came
in the soft moonlight and spent a long, lovely summer evening with him,
while the band played melodiously in the fort inclosure, and the stars
twinkled over the peaks of the Rockies in the southern skies. Folsom
spent the hours wiring to Omaha and conferring with such officers as he
could reach. They thought the lesson given Red Cloud would end the
business. He knew it would only begin it. Burleigh, saying that he must
give personal attention to the selection of the teams and wagons, spent
the early evening in his corral, but sent word to Folsom that he hoped
to see him in the morning on business of great importance. He had other
hopes, too, one of them being that now the order to send that big sum in
currency to the new stockade would be revoked. He had lost no time in
suggesting to the chief quartermaster of the department the extreme
hazard. He quoted Folsom as saying that before we could send one hundred
men to Warrior Gap Red Cloud could call five thousand, and the chief
quartermaster, being a man of method and a stranger to the frontier
said, as said the Bureau "Who the devil is John Folsom? Do as you are
told." But that answer only came the following day. Meantime there was
respite and hope.

Long lived that beautiful evening in the memory of four young hearts. A
sweet south wind had been gently playing all day and left the night warm
and fragrant of the pines and cedars in the mountain parks. All Fort
Emory seemed made up of women and children now, for such few soldiers as
were left, barring the bandsmen, were packing or helping pack and store
about the barracks. From s