op to
take prisoners when you were outflanked and outnumbered."

"Bedad! They didn't teach YOU, Captain Overstone, to engage a battery at
Cerro Gordo with a half company, but you did it; more shame to you now,
sorr, commandin' the thayves and ruffians you do."

"Silence!" said the young officer.

The sleeve of the sergeant who had spoken--with the chevrons of long
service upon it--went up to a salute, and dropped again over his carbine
as he stared stolidly before him. But his shot had told. A flush of
mingled pride and shame passed over Overstone's face.

"Oh! it's YOU, Murphy," he said with an affected laugh, "and you haven't
improved with your stripes."

The young officer turned his head slightly.

"Attention!"

"One moment more," said Overstone coming forward. "I have told you that
we don't give up any man who seeks our protection. But," he added with
a half-careless, half-contemptuous wave of his hand, and a significant
glance at his followers, "we don't prevent you from seeking him. The
road is clear; the camp is before you."

The young officer continued without looking at him. "Forward--in two
files--open order. Ma-arch!"

The little troop moved forward, passed Major Overstone at the head of
the gully, and spread out on the hillside. The assembled camp, still
armed, lounging out of ambush here and there, ironically made way for
them to pass. A few moments of this farcical quest, and a glance at
the impenetrably wooded heights around, apparently satisfied the young
officer, and he turned his files again into the gully. Major Overstone
was still lingering there.

"I hope you are satisfied," he said grimly. He then paused, and in a
changed and more hesitating voice added: "I am an older soldier than
you, sir, but I am always glad to make the acquaintance of West Point."
He paused and held out his hand.

West Point, still red and rigid, glanced at him with bright clear eyes
under light lashes and the peak of a smartly cocked cap, looked coolly
at the proffered hand, raised his own to a stiff salute, said, "Good
afternoon, sir," and rode away.

Major Overstone wheeled angrily, but in doing so came sharply upon his
coadjutor--the leader of the ambushed party.

"Well, Dawson," he said impatiently. "Who was it?"

"Only one of them d----d half-breed Injin agents. He's just over there
in the brush with Simpson, lying low till the soldiers clear out."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Not much!" returned Dawson