aph, which was
taken at Hong Kong, Inez tells me, just after their voyage over,
when she was looking like a fright. Being registered, it must go
slowly and may be long in reaching you, but fancy your Sandy's joy,
if you can. Send this to Maidie, if you will, for I have no time to
write to both. I am commanding my troop and we march at dawn for
the mountains, and may be weeks now in the jungle, chasing
Aguinaldo. Several of our fellows have broken down and had to go to
the sea or back to Corregidor, even over to Japan, to recuperate,
but I feel like a fighting cock and am going in now to win a name
for myself, and for her, that you'll all be proud of. One thing I
can tell you proudly, mother dear: never since that day at the
Presidio, ever so much more than a year ago, have I let even a sip
of wine pass my lips, the first and only teetotaler among the Rays,
and perhaps _that_ has something to do with my perfect physical
trim. I owe you this, and have gladly kept the faith. Now in my
new-found happiness I feel as if I could keep that and every other
faith to the end. Lovingly, devotedly, your boy,

SANFORD RAY.

P. S.--Inez says it should not be announced until you all have
approved, whereas I wished and would be for shouting the news from
the housetops. There is a chance of getting this to you quicker
than I thought. Captain Dwight has never been himself since
Bender's trial and conviction. General Young wanted him to take
sick leave last month and go to Japan, but he wouldn't. Now he's
fairly broken down and has to be left behind, so this will go to
Manila with him. I wonder--I can't help wondering--what he'd think
if he knew what was in it. The fellows do say she could have had
him and his money, yet she chose your boy, SANDY.

For a moment after reading the final page Colonel Ray sat in silence.
Aloft could be heard the firm footfalls of Miss Sanford as she bustled
about her room unpacking her belated trunks. Within, with merry snap and
sparkle, the fresh-heaped wood fire blazed in the broad open fireplace.
Without, the orderly trumpeter, away over by the flagstaff, was winding
the last note of stable call. The late afternoon sunshine flooded the
valley of the Minneconjou. The mountain air, cool, bracing, redolent of
pine and cedar, stirred the tracery of the white curtains at t