C

CHAPTER IX.

ONWAY, convalescing, had been bundled back to town, leaving blessings on

the head of his fair nurse and reader. Corporal Shannon, kicked by a mule in the quartermaster's corral, was installed in his place. The daily reading was going on in the hospital, despite social duties that grew more exacting as Miss Leroy became better known and more appreciated. Over in the sorrel troop's quarters Hunter, despite inflexible reserve as to his past, had won the good will of most of the men. Quin, a garrison bully, pitching upon a smaller comrade for a fancied affront, had been himself pitched into a snow-drift, and when he rushed at his antagonist was floored flat by as neat a swing on the jaw as ever the -th had heard of. It was a new blow, in fact, to the regiment, and the story went from barrack to barrack that the Sorrels had got a swell boxer as well as rider. Curiosity as to Hunter's antecedents burst all bounds. Major Mainwaring's assertion that he had seen the fellow somewhere before and knew he must be a deserter was sufficient to make the recruit an object of interest in garrison society, even if he had not

won distinction as trainer of Mrs. Ray's beautiful mare, whose delicate mouth and Eastern schooling made her somewhat too sensitive for ordinary cavalry handling. Ray, once the light rider of the regiment, could have coached her beautifully, but Ray was growing bulky with years, and an old bullet wound in the thigh, received during a Sioux campaign years before, was troubling him as winter wore on. What no one understood was how Ray came to select Hunter, for Ray declared he had no previous knowledge of him whatever, which was true. Truscott, when appealed to for his opinion, smiled gravely, as was his wont, and said Ray had as unerring an eye for a horseman as he had for a horse. But it was in

Sudstown," where dwelt the wives and daughters of the soldiery, that Trooper Hunter's goings and comings, doings and sayings, were becoming matters of such absorbing interest. He was credited with being fabulously wealthy, among other things, for he certainly had money at his command. He also had friends and acquaintances—some said a wife and family, or at least a lady love-somewhere in town, for he had twice asked for passes, and more than once was believed to have gone thither without that formality. Mrs. Merriweather, who held her head so high above the other women, was accused of " setting her cap" for the stranger, and she laid herself open

to calumny by declaring to one or two envious dames that Mr. Hunter was a frequent caller, only "Dan" didn't like it and had warned him off. "Indeed, he got to coming too often for his own good," said she, which meant worlds of helpless regret on her part.

Men sought the confidence of the new soldier, but gave it up in ignorance as deep as that with which they came to him. Some he laughed at, some he snubbed, none he gratified. It was fortunate he knew how to fight, for there were evil spirits that would have mauled him otherwise on general principles, but Ray kept a sharp lookout for his protégé. He, at least, should have fair play, despite the hints of the first sergeant that Conway could tell something about him, and had even asked him, Sergeant Fellows, where he could find Hunter the night he came out with a warrant and was knifed by Healy. Ray rode to town and demanded of Conway what he knew or suspected, and Conway said, "Nothing; at least nothing that I could prove." Ray had flouted the idea of Hunter's being connected in any way with the train-robbers: indeed, it was doubtful if the leaders would ever be caught. They were lost to all search, deep in the Hills, and their luckless accomplices were still held awaiting the action of some Federal official yet to arrive. Stannard and Mainwaring had had almost an open rupture, all on

account of Hunter, who, daily exercising and training Mrs. Ray's pretty Stella, was, nevertheless, performing all other duties with his troop. Mainwaring, noting how successful Hunter had been with Stella, concluded that he should like to have him try his hand on Velvet, Mrs. Mainwaring's saddler, who had never been known to jump, and was confounded when the trooper most respectfully but positively begged to be excused. Atherton was

away, summoned to meet the department commander at Pawnee. Stannard was in temporary command. Mainwaring asked that the trooper should be directed to perform duty for him, for which he was perfectly willing to pay, or else be ordered to cease doing it for Ray. Stannard said no soldier could be compelled to perform menial service for any officer if he didn't wish to, and if he did not wish to train Mrs. Mainwaring's horse he should not be made to. Mainwaring declared training horses could not be menial service in the eyes of a true cavalryman, and Stannard said that it was if a man thought so. Mainwaring got very wroth, and swore that between them, Stannard and Blake and Ray, they were bound to spoil a man who gave promise of being a good soldier, despite his shadowy antecedents, and again demanded that he be ordered to cease handling Stella for Ray. Stannard said he only did it for the love of the thing, for

practice and recreation, and not for emolument, and he should not be denied. Then Atherton came back; Mainwaring appealed to him from Stannard's decision, and Atherton said he'd investigate and decide next morning.

But it was decided for him that night.

"Ray," said he, at evening stables, "whoever set that huge hay-stack so close to the stables had no idea of prudence. If it were to catch fire your premises would go. I shall order it removed to-morrow.'

Sergeant Merriweather, stable sergeant of the troop up to a week before, heard these words, and so did Sergeant Conro, to whom he was pointing out certain defects in the mechanism of a grain-chute from the loft above their heads. It was storming, and grooming was being conducted inside. Merriweather stopped short in his explanation, stared at the colonel as though the words had dazed him in some way, and then had to be reminded of the subject which he was discussing.

The wind that had banked the snow-clouds in the southeast during the day veered towards nightfall and blew strong from the southwest. At tattoo it was whisking the hay from the quartermaster's corral and sending it streaming across the line of stables and out upon the bleak prairie, while, still farther along, under the "bench," the big hay-stacks beyond the corral seemed stripping in the gale, and the