uadron commander.

During the sweet summer months, all along the broad lands of the
Dakotas, the morning gun thundered its salutation to the newborn day as
the hands of the clock so nearly lapped at half-past five. What Dwight
demanded of Colonel Stone was permission to rout out the cavalry at
half-past four. It was broad daylight, said he. It was the cool and
beautiful time of the day. The men could have their coffee at once, then
march to stables, lead to water,--the steeds having been already fed by
the stable guard,--groom for twenty minutes, march back to barracks, get
their matutinal scrub, a hearty breakfast and be out to squadron drill
when all was still fresh, sparkling and exhilarating before the mountain
breeze, the lowland dust, or indeed before garrison society, was astir;
then they could all be back in time for guard-mounting and the
multifarious drills and duties of the morning. Dwight found his people
well up in saddle work, as was to be expected of men long led by so
genuine a trooper as "Billy" Ray, but they were correspondingly slack in
foot and sabre drill, and Dwight in his day had been one of the famous
drillmasters of the --th, and seemed beset with desire to keep up the
record now. "What would you be doing from nine to noon?" asked Stone,
strumming the desk with his finger tips and studying curiously the pale,
keen, eager face of the cavalryman.

"Company drill afoot, sabre drill, setting up--almost anything!" was the
impatient answer. "These men are soft, sluggish, torpid. Troopers should
be all wire and catgut. I want to put those four commands in perfect
trim for anything, Colonel, and I can't do it under five hours' drill a
day."

But Stone shook his head. There was no occasion he maintained, for
robbing them of an hour of their sleep. They had to work harder than his
men, anyhow, and, if anything, should be given more sleep, not less.

"Then put them to bed at ten o'clock--or nine, if need be," said Dwight,
impatient of demur; but Stone proved obdurate. "I see no reason for so
radical a change," said he, to the relief of the juniors, who feared
Dwight's vehement onward nature might prevail over the placidity of
Stone; and so the new-made major was fain to content himself with
sounding mess call right after reveille, then "Boots and Saddles" in
place of "Stables," and, by dispensing with morning grooming, getting
his troops into line on the flats to the south and starting a humming
squadr