gnant young gentleman, who
never in his life had told a lie, found himself the target of ten score
of hostile eyes, some wrathful, some scornful, some contemptuous, some
insolent, some only derisive, but all, save those of a few silently
observant officers, threatening or at least inimical.

Claiming first that he knew Walter Foster well (and, indeed, it seemed
to him he did, for his mother's letters to the Big Horn ranch had much
to say of Maidie's civilian admirer, though Maidie herself could rarely
be induced to speak of him), Ray was forced to admit that he had met him
only twice or thrice during a brief and hurried visit to Fort Averill to
see his loved ones before they moved to Fort Leavenworth, and then he
owned he paid but little attention to the sighing swain. Questioned as
to his opportunities of studying and observing Foster, Sandy had been
constrained to say that he hadn't observed him closely at all. He
"didn't want to--exactly." They first met, it seems, in saddle. The
winter weather was glorious at Averill. They had a fine pack of hounds;
coursing for jack-rabbit was their favorite sport, and, despite the fact
that Foster had a beautiful and speedy horse, "his seat was so poor and
his hand so jerky he never managed to get up to the front," said Sandy.

It was not brought out in evidence, but the fact was that Sandy could
never be got to look on Foster with the faintest favor as a suitor for
his sister's hand. A fellow who could neither ride, shoot, nor
spar--whose accomplishments were solely of the carpet and perhaps the
tennis-court--the boy had no use for. He and Maidie rode as though born
to the saddle. He had seen Foster in an English riding-suit and English
saddle and an attempt at the English seat, but decidedly without the
deft English hand on his fretting hunter's mouth the one day that they
appeared in field together, and the sight was too much for Sandy. That
night at dinner, and the later dance, Foster's perfection of dress and
manner only partially redeemed him in Sandy's eyes, and--well--really,
that was about all he ever had seen of Foster.

Questioned as to his recollection of Foster's features, stature, etc.,
Sandy did his best, and only succeeded in portraying the deceased almost
to the life. Except, he said, Foster had long, thick, curving eyelashes,
and "this man hasn't"--but it was remembered that brows and lashes both
were singed off in the fire. So that point failed. Questioned as t