e faint hues of the
flowerets,--almost as indistinguishable in the general effect as their
fairy fragrance on the air. Aloft, the sky is all one blaze of sunshine,
that seems to bleach it into palest, most translucent blue. Far to the
west some fleecy clouds are rolling up from the horizon, wafted from the
peaks of the hidden Rockies. Down in the "swale," the wooden barracks,
stables, quarters, and storehouses are all one tint of economical brown,
brightened only by the hues of the flag that hangs high over the scene.
Beyond the shallow valley and across the stream, looking only long
rifle-shot away, but a good two miles when one comes to walk it, a brick
school-house with glistening cupola stands sentinel in the centre of the
scattering frontier town; there, too, lies the railway station, from
which an ugly brown freight-train is just pulling out Denverwards,
puffing dense clouds of inky smoke to the sky. Space, light, and air
there are in lavish profusion. Shade there is little or none, except
close along the winding stream; but shade is a thing neither sought nor
cared for, as the sun-tanned faces of the troopers show. Every now and
then a trumpet-call floats softly over the prairie, or the ringing,
prolonged word of command marks some lazily-executed manoeuvre on the
homeward way. Drill is over; the sharp eyes and sharper tongue of the
major no longer criticise any faulty or "slouchy" wheel; the drill
proper has been stiff and spirited, and now the necessary changes of
direction are carried out in a purely perfunctory manner, while the
battalion commander and his subaltern, troops and all, amble back and
give their steeds a breathing spell.

Typical cavalrymen are those two, who, chatting quietly together, are
riding somewhat in advance of the returning companies. The major is a
man a trifle over forty, short, stout, with massive shoulders, chest,
and thighs, a neck like a bull, a well-shaped head covered with
straight, close-cropped, brown hair, innocent of kink or curl; a florid
face, bronzed and tanned by years of life in sun and wind and storm;
clean-shaven but for the drooping brown moustache that conceals the
rugged lines of his mouth, and twinkling blue-gray eyes that peer out
with searching gaze from under their shaggy brows. Firmness, strength,
self-reliance, even sternness, can be read in every line; but around the
gathering crowsfeet at the corners of his eyes, and lurking under the
shadow of the grim mou