ther matter. Er--have you seen Miss Sanford?"

"Yes, sir," answered Ray, half choking, "and--she was to answer me fully
at twelve o'clock."

"Well--er--I may be able to see Sergeant Bates and perhaps you again. I
won't take you farther. Wait for me at your desk, will you?"

A distant horseman, trotting swiftly homeward, splashed through the ford
at the moment; but long before he reached the gate the colonel had gone
on through upon his regular daily tramp, making the rounds of the big
wide-spreading post. The young officer, silent and pale, had gone back
to his office. The sentry at the gate presented arms as the tall
haggard-looking rider came trotting in, sitting very erect and squarely
down in the saddle. At the parting of the roads he suddenly reined in
and dismounted. "Take him to the stables and get your dinner, Gribble,"
said he to the trumpeter boy. "I shall not ride again to-day." Then,
with grave, anxious, downcast face, went striding up the southward line
to his quarters at the farther end--the quarters that had been the
Rays'.

On the gallery of Lieutenant Thornton's were two or three young army
wives and mothers, who ceased chatting and somewhat curiously studied
the coming officer. In brief, absent-minded fashion he lifted his cap
and passed them by. Young Dr. Wallen was just coming forth and calling
cheerily to them. "Oh, he'll do very nicely now. Miss Sanford handled
him admirably;" then, "Oh, beg a thousand pardons, Major," as he bumped
sideways into the tall soldier passing by.

"Who's hurt?" asked Dwight with scant interest.

"Why--er--Georgie Thornton got a little--er--gash playing. His mother
was scared a bit, and I was coming that way and she called me in. The
eye isn't injured."

"Why--how'd it happen?"

"Oh, er--well, I don't know, exactly," answered Wallen, in deep
confusion. "Some boy scrap--mishap--accident, probably,
and--er--good-day," he finished lamely, as he darted off.

Queer, thought Dwight. Is everybody seeking to avoid me? He only vaguely
heard, and for the moment gave little heed to, the angry words that
followed him from the open doorway. "Ask your boy how it happened, Major
Dwight," for the mother was suffering still, and some natures,
suffering, _will_ spit and scratch. Not then, but just a little later,
as Jimmy came bounding gladly to meet him and to seize his hand, did
Dwight remember Mrs. Thornton's words, and looking down into the joyous,
beaming, flushing face, wi