for the moment, and half
questioning the evidence of his own eyes.

A small tent, dirty and patched, stood with its back against the slope
of earth down which he had plunged. Its flap flung aside revealed
within a pile of disarranged blankets, together with some scattered
articles of wearing apparel, while just before the opening, his back
pressed against the supporting pole, an inverted pipe between his
yellow, irregular teeth, sat a hideous looking man. He was a withered,
dried-up fellow, whose age was not to be guessed, having a skin as
yellow as parchment, drawn in tight to the bones like that of a mummy,
his eyes deep sunken like wells, and his head totally devoid of hair,
although about his lean throat there was a copious fringe of iron-gray
beard, untrimmed and scraggy. Down the entire side of one cheek ran a
livid scar, while his nose was turned awry.

He sat staring at the newcomer, unwinking, his facial expression devoid
of interest, but his fingers opening and closing in apparent
nervousness. Twice his lips opened, but nothing except a peculiar
gurgling sound issued from the throat, and Brant, who by this time had
attained his feet and his self-possession, ventured to address him.

"Nice quiet spot for a camp," he remarked, pleasantly, "but a bad place
for a tumble."

The sunken eyes expressed nothing, but the throat gurgled again
painfully, and finally the parted lips dropped a detached word or two.
"Blame--pretty girl--that."

The lieutenant wondered how much of their conversation this old mummy
had overheard, but he hesitated to question him. One inquiry, however,
sprang to his surprised lips. "Do you know her?"

"Damn sight--better--than any one around here--know her--real name."

Brant stared incredulously. "Do you mean to insinuate that that young
woman is living in this community under an assumed one? Why, she is
scarcely more than a child! What do you mean, man?"

The soldier's hat still rested on the grass where it had fallen, its
military insignia hidden.

"I guess--I know--what I--know," the fellow muttered. "What
's--your--regiment?"

"Seventh Cavalry."

The man stiffened up as if an electric shock had swept through his limp
frame. "The hell!--and--did--she--call you--Brant?"

The young officer's face exhibited his disgust. Beyond doubt that
sequestered nook was a favorite lounging spot for the girl, and this
disreputable creature had been watching her for some sinister