od. True, his coat-collar bore the tell-tale letters U. S.
V., but he had served some years with one of the swellest of swell
Eastern regiments, whose set-up and style were not excelled by the
regulars, whose officers prided themselves upon their dress and bearing.

If it was because he was not of the regular service that Miss Ray would
not vouchsafe him a glance, Mr. Stuyvesant was quite ready to bid her
understand he held himself as high as any soldier in her father's famous
corps. If it was not that, then what in blazes was it?

He knew that in travelling cross continent in this way it was considered
the proper thing for an officer of the regular army to send his card by
the porter to the wife or daughter of any brother officer who might be
aboard, and to tender such civilities as he would be glad to have paid
his own were he so provided. He wondered whether it would do to send his
pasteboard with a little note to the effect that he had once met Colonel
Ray at the United Service Club, and would be glad to pay his respects to
the colonel's daughter.

It was an unusual thing for Mr. Stuyvesant to quaff beer at any time,
except after heavy exercise at polo or tennis, but to-night he was
ruffled, and when the porter began making up the berths and dames and
damsels disappeared, he had wandered disconsolately into the diner and
ordered beer as his excuse. Then he crossed the platform and entered the
tourist.

The night was hot and close. The men were lying two in a berth, as a
rule, the upper berths not being used.

One or two, Murray among them, had not removed their trousers, but most
of them were stretched out in their undergarments, while others,
chatting in low tones, were watching the brakeman turning down the
lights. They made way respectfully as the lieutenant entered. Connelly
came to meet him and nodded significantly at Murray, who lay in a berth
near the middle of the car, still carefully watched by Hunt. Foster,
wearied, had turned in, and, with his face to the window, seemed to have
fallen asleep. The conductor came through, lantern in hand.

"It's the quietest and best behaved lot, barring that chap, I ever
carried," said he to Stuyvesant. "But he's wicked enough for a dozen.
Wonder he don't go to sleep."

"Humph! says he wants a bottle of beer," grunted Connelly. "Can't get to
sleep without it. I wouldn't give it to him if I had a kag."

"He doesn't deserve it, of course," said the conductor. "What h