declared that no young lady had gone on Number Six,
for the reason that Number Six hadn't gone and wouldn't go till 'long
toward daylight. She broke down somewhere about seven o'clock at
Medicine Bow.

But Ennis and Mayhew came at him a second time, with a second question:
Could he tell them anything of Mr. and Mrs. Osborn, Osborn being a
conductor and Mrs. Osborn Dora's friend of whom previous mention is
made? Had they gone to Omaha? No, for Mr. Osborn was round here early in
the evening, and had to be here at six o'clock A.M. to meet and take
Number Five over the Mountain Division. Then John Chinaman had lied,
said poor Mayhew, grieving sore and quite ready to break down, but Ennis
was spurred to new energy.

"Keep your heart, old man," said he. "The more I think of this, the more
I'm sure there's light ahead, and I'm going after it. Go to the hotel,
lie down, and leave the rest to me."

And still Jim Ennis felt by no means confident he could be in time. He
knew the Mayhews only slightly. He had never before been stationed at
regimental headquarters, had seen and known Dora only since their coming
to Fort Cushing, and therefore had not learned to share Bob's honest
admiration for her. She might be all Bob thought her, a loving child and
a true-hearted girl in spite of her infatuation for this presentable
young trooper whose antecedents nobody knew. Ennis had often marked him
during the campaign and noted his regard for Bob, and felt kindly
disposed toward him until mid September, when two troops were sent in
to Frayne, with the pack train and orders to load up with rations and
escort it back. Rawdon was missing from the column when it camped the
first night out, on the return, and only caught them by a daring night
ride through the Sioux country when they were two days' march beyond.
His captain, Raymond, had sternly rebuked him and promised him further
punishment when they reached the regiment, but Lanier had heard of it
and interceded, thereby making Rawdon still more his friend. But now the
heart of "Dad" Ennis was hot against him, for fear that what Barker said
might all be true: that Rawdon had wrecked an old man's heart and home,
and ruined an old man's beloved daughter.

With just two troopers at his back, toward four in the morning, big Jim
went spurring on through the dim moonlight, town and station far behind,
following a meandering sleigh and wagon track across the wide, dreary
upland, riding, as a rul