tier warfare, all combined to make him wakeful. He
was only getting sleepy when he should have been wide awake. Captain
Tibbetts was an old campaigner and awoke from his doze with a start,
shook himself together, and said he'd take a turn through the car before
undressing for the night. In a moment or two he returned, the first
sergeant with him, and this faithful old soldier was rewarded by a long
pull from the captain's canteen before returning to the recruit car.

"Do you know anything about that young fellow,--ever meet him before?"
said Tibbetts, indicating with a nod the recruit corporal, who, with a
pillow under his head and his feet on the opposite seat, was now curled
up in slumber.

"No, sir," answered Davies.

"Well, he's a man of good education and family, if I'm not mistaken. I'm
told he's been on duty as clerk at the depot, and 'twas he who made out
the rolls. It will be long before he can write again. Better leave him
at Sanders." As he spoke the captain was holding out the well-filled
flask in one hand, the cup in the other. Davies took neither. "Won't you
have a nip?" asked the senior. "It'll help you to keep awake."

"Thank you, sir, I never have, and don't care to begin."

Tibbetts began screwing on the cap, looking his man over as he did so.

"I believe you're right," said he, "and if I were to begin over again
I'd do the same. But we were all taught the other way fifteen years
ago." He paused as though he half wanted to say more, but finally turned
away and disappeared in his section.

Obedient to his instructions, Davies made frequent tours through the
cars, and scouted the outside of the train at every stop. The night
passed, however, in perfect peace. The dawn came hours before the train
was due at Sidney, where coffee was again to be served. Only one
incident occurred to give him food for new thought. Towards four o'clock
he returned to the sleeper after an absence of some ten minutes, just as
the train pulled slowly away from one of those little prairie stations,
and as he entered the dimly-lighted aisle he saw that Brannan was not in
his place. Standing at Mrs. Cranston's section farther on, a little
phial and medicine-glass in her hand, her dark hair falling in heavy
braids down her back, attired in a loose, warm wrapper, was Miss Loomis,
calm, yet evidently anxious. Beyond her hovered Brannan, holding the
captain's flask.

"What is it?" asked Davies. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Mrs