rdly dared hope for this. They would
meet again; that could scarcely be avoided in such narrow quarters.
But how? On what terms? He ventured the one swift glimpse at her--a
slender, white-robed figure, one among a group of both men and women
before an open door, through which the light streamed--heard her ask,
"Who are they? What cavalry troop is that?" caught the response in a
man's voice, "'M' of the Seventh, from Fort Union," and then passed by,
his eyes looking straight ahead, his hand gripping his horse's bit.

Thirty minutes later in the great barn-like barracks, he hung his
accoutrements over the bed assigned him in the far corner, and,
revolver belt still buckled about his waist, stood at the open window,
striving to determine which of those winking lights shone from the
house where he had seen her. There had been something in the eagerness
of her voice which he could not forget, nor escape from. She had
seemed to care, to feel an interest deeper than mere curiosity. The
Sergeant's heart beat rapidly, even while he sternly told himself he
was a fool. A hand touched his shoulder, and he wheeled about to grip
Wasson's hand.

"Well, 'Brick,' old boy," said the scout genially, although his thin
face was as solemn as ever; "so you fellows have come back to be in the
shindy?"

"We 've been in it all summer, Sam," was the reply. "It's been lively
enough south of the Cimarron, the Lord knows. I 've been riding patrol
for months now. But what's up? No one seems to know why we were
ordered in."

"It's all guess-work here," and Wasson sat down on the narrow bed and
lit his pipe. "But the 'old man' is getting something under way,
consolidating troops. Your regiment is going to be used, that's
certain. I 've been carryin' orders between here an' Wallace for three
weeks now, an' I 've heard Sheridan explode once or twice. He 's tired
of this guerilla business, an' wants to have one good fight."

"It is getting late."

"That's the way he figures it out, accordin' to my notion. We 've
always let those fellows alone during the bad weather, an' they 've got
so they expect it. The 'old man' figures he 'll give 'em a surprise."

"A winter campaign?"

"Why not? We can stand it if they can. O' course, I 'm just guessin';
there 's no leak at headquarters. But Custer 's up there," with a wave
of the hand to the north, "and they 've got the maps out."

"What maps?"

"I only got a glimpse of them out of