usily
roaching his own riding-animal, a flighty buckskin cayuse that no one
else cared to handle, and that was affectionately known in barracks as
the "She-devil." The men had met before, around the billiard-table at
the sutler's, and Lounsbury had set the young officer down for a
chivalrous, but rather chicken-hearted, youngster, who had chosen his
profession unwisely. So, his story told, the storekeeper was altogether
surprised at Fraser's spirited enthusiasm and quick response.

"I've nothing to do, old man," he said, as they went toward the
parade-ground. "I can help as well as not. So just take your time. I'll
watch for you."

"I hardly think our man'll show his nose before dark. But I can't leave
the way open----"

"Don't fret."

They parted at the flag-pole, the West Pointer going down to the river,
and Lounsbury hurrying off in the opposite direction.

Colonel Cummings' entry and reception-room were crowded when the
storekeeper entered. A score of officers were standing about in little
groups, talking excitedly. But Lounsbury was too anxious and distraught
to notice anything unusual. He hurried up to a tall, sad-faced man whose
moustache, thin and coarse, drooped sheer over his mouth, giving him the
look of a martyred walrus.

"Can I see the K. O., Captain Oliver?" he asked. "It's important."

"I'll find out," answered the captain. "But I don't believe you can.
He's up to his ears." He disappeared into the next room.

Lounsbury bowed to several officers, though he scarcely saw them. He
heard Oliver's low voice, evidently announcing him, then the colonel's.

"Yes, bring him in," cried the latter. "Maybe he'll know."

The storekeeper entered without waiting. Colonel Cummings stood in the
centre of the room. It was the room known as his library, in compliment
to a row of dog-eared volumes that had somehow survived many a wet
bivouac and rough march. But it resembled a museum. In the corners, on
the walls beneath the bulky heads of buffalo and the branching antlers
of elk, there were swords, tomahawks, bows and arrows, strings of glass
wampum, cartridge belts, Indian bonnets, drums and shields, and a
miscellany of warlike odds and ends. To-day, the room was further
littered by maps, which covered the table, the benches, and the whole
length of an army cot. Over one of these hung the colonel, making
imaginary journeys with the end of a dead cigar.

He turned swiftly to Lounsbury, and caught him by the sh