r who could look back on that long campaign against the Sioux
without regretting some speech wrung from him by the exasperation
produced by incessant exposure, hardship, and finally by starvation,
were few indeed. Devers was honest enough to admit to himself at the
moment that he wished he hadn't said what he did say to Davies, but not
so honest as to confess it to any one else. Yet stealing a glance at the
young fellow whom he had humiliated, now wearily leaning against his
saddle, Devers would have been glad to find some way of making amends,
but, stealing another glance around another way after Truman, of whom he
was both jealous and afraid, he hardened his heart. It is one thing to
say "I was in the wrong" to the victim, and quite another to admit it to
one's fellows. It is fear of what the world will say that keeps many a
man from righting many a wrong, and men, too, who wouldn't flinch in
front of a mile of batteries.

Standing listlessly by their horses, the men of Devers's troop had, some
of them at least, been silent witnesses of the scene. One or two
officers also had marked and conjectured, though they had not heard,
what had taken place. Truman alone was cognizant of all, and, whatever
may have been his views, this was neither the time nor place to express
them. But he took occasion to stop as he was returning to the head of
his own troop and speak to the young officer in the case.

"Davies," said he, kindly, "come over with me a moment. I've got a
little chunk of antelope in my saddle-bags, and you need it, man. We'll
all have something to eat to-night--_sure_. We'll make the Belle Fourche
by nine."

Davies looked up gratefully. "I'm ever so much obliged, captain," he
began, "but I can't eat with all those poor fellows looking at me.
They're about done up."

"Oh, it's rough, I know, but all they've got to do is tag along with the
column till night and then eat their fill. You haven't had enough to
live on, and may have work ahead. Here comes Hastings now."

And as he spoke the battalion adjutant came spurring down from a low
ridge at the front fast as a miserably jaded horse could bear him.
Earlier in the campaign every man would have felt the thrill of coming
excitement,--a chase, a brush of some kind, perhaps,--but now all were
weak and weary. Even the Patlanders in Truman's troop, men of whom it
had often been said that they'd rather fight than eat, were no more full
of fight to-day than they were o