ast he was riding Winston's horse,
and had on the old long coat of his."

Sergeant Stimson nodded, and pointed to the weapon lying with blackened
muzzle at his feet. "And I think you could recognize that rifle?
There's F. Winston cut on the stock of it."

Payne said nothing, for the trooper signed to him. "I fancy Shannon
wants to talk to you," he said.

The lad knelt down, slipped one arm about his comrade's neck, and took
the mittened hand in his own. Shannon smiled up at him feebly.

"Winston's horse, and his cap," he said, and then stopped, gasping
horribly.

"You will remember that, boys," said the Sergeant.

Payne could say nothing. Trooper Shannon and he had ridden through icy
blizzard and scorching heat together, and he felt his manhood melting
as he looked down into his dimming eyes. There was a curious look in
them which suggested a strenuous endeavor and an appeal, and the lips
moved again.

"It was," said Shannon, and moved his head a little on Payne's arm,
apparently in an agony of effort.

Then the birches roared about them, and drowned the feeble utterance,
while when the gust passed all three, who had not heard what preceded
it, caught only one word, "Winston."

Trooper Shannon's eyes closed, and his head fell back while the snow
beat softly into his upturned face, and there was a very impressive
silence intensified by the moaning of the wind, until the rattle of
wheels came faintly down the trail.

CHAPTER V

MISS BARRINGTON COMES HOME

The long train was slackening speed and two whistles rang shrilly
through the roar of wheels when Miss Barrington laid down the book with
which she had beguiled her journey of fifteen hundred miles, and rose
from her seat in a corner of the big first-class car. The car was
sumptuously upholstered and its decorations tasteful as well as lavish,
but just then it held no other passenger, and Miss Barrington smiled
curiously as she stood, swaying a little, in front of the mirror at one
end of it, wrapping her furs about her. There was, however, a faint
suggestion of regret in the smile, and the girl's eyes grew grave
again, for the soft cushions, dainty curtains, gleaming gold and
nickel, and equable temperature formed a part of the sheltered life she
was about to leave behind her, and there would, she knew, be a
difference in the future. Still, she laughed again, as, drawing the
little fur cap well down upon her broad white forehead, she nodded