years in the service, he had never made a friend, and, the men said, had saved the greater part of his pay. They added that his savings were the sole reason he was welcomed in the house of mother Malone.

"She's the divil iv a da'ter, sargeant, so she is," said Mrs. Malone in tears, "an ongrateful child, so she is. Luk what I've done for her-scraped an' saved, an' saved an' scraped an' sint her at last to the convent to be eddicated an' made a lady. It's yerself, sergeant, knows that same, sure, an' grateful is Michael Malone an' meself fur the help you gave. We're not ongrateful, an' it'll be paid back—"

"I wish you would say nothing about it," said Holmes, uneasily.

Mrs. Malone wiped her eyes and raised her finger.

"Yez ave been a good friend to Mike an' me an' to Katy," she said, "an' nivir a lad shall have the girl wid my lave, save yerself, Holmes, so there, an' the wee fiddler's out of the way anyhow. Should we be after hearin' the sintince of the court martial, sergeant?"

"The sentence? now," Holmes said.

Faval? Any day,

"It'll be two years for sure," she went on, maybe four, for spakin' back to the adjutant himself. Two years in the prison at Leavenworth will give Mistress Katy time to forget him. Ye must be patient Holmes, an' fur the bit o' money ye've lint me-"

"D-n the money," cried Holmes, jumping to his feet, "Do you want me to wait two years for her? Two years more? Have I been coming here so often for years, and yet you cannot understand? Mrs. Malone, Mrs. Malone, I can't wait. I can't wait longer. Since she was a child at the Post school I've loved her, and God knows that I'd give my life for her, to do the smallest thing she bid me-the smallest. She liked me once-she was learning to love me I know it, but this, this thing, this half-French fiddler bewitched her. And now you want me to wait! Two years I can't. I-I love her; I worship her. I-I'm

burning up I'm mad about her!" He frightened Mother Malone. He dropped back in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Tears trickled through his fingers, and his big form shook. Mrs. Malone, calloused and withered by the long struggle of years, was not yet so hardened as not to be touched by the man's naked avowal.

"Whatever the boys says, Holmes," she said softly, "an' they're an ig'runt lot uv min, ye're a good man, an' a true man, an' Katy ye'll have if her mother has got a word to say."

The door burst open and a youngster came rushing in with a shoutlittle Herman of the band, son of the leader, and the delight and terror of the post.

"Mother Malone!" he shouted. "Have you any eggs? I want six eggs with fried ham-cut it thick-and have you any biscuits? Give us some strong coffee, too, with lots of milk, and charge it to me till pay day. Supper was rotten-mush and molasses. Halloa, Sergt. Holmes!"

"Ye rat!" cried Mrs. Malone. "Six eggs, he says, and cut the ham thick ! An' him stuffed full of mush and molasses! Come here, ye wee divil, till I spank yez."

The boy was used to varied marks of affection, but he kicked vehemently as Mother Malone caught him up, lifted him high and kissed him loudly on each cheek.

"That's a nice way to behave to the men ! he cried, as he was let down, rubbing his blushing cheeks. "What would Malone say if I told him?"

"Eh! hark to him!" laughed Mother Malone, as she began to crack eggs on the edge of the frying pan. "Is news about Faval, Her

there any man?" Holmes was on the threshold, passing out, but turned to listen.

No

"Faval! Yes, it's a shame! wonder he ran away, with the adjutant and the band sergeant down on him all the time, and he knows more—”

"What news?" asked Mrs. Malone impatiently, and Holmes stood waiting,

66

Why, the order was read out at retreat dishonorable discharge, forfeiting all pay and allowance and so on and three years in Leavenworth."

"Three years in Leavenworth!" cried Mrs. Malone. "Three years well, well! Did ye hear that, Sergt. Holmes? There's many a thing will be forgotten in three years, Holmes."

But Holmes was already striding away through the gathering dusk.

He

Holmes turned his back on the post and strode out across the bluffs toward the river. For a long, long time now he had been used to take these solitary evening walks, rain or shine, to tire out the passion in his breast. Scarred, alone in the world since he remembered anything, he had never loved a living thing until now, and having loved with all the might of a rushing, long suppressed flood, he found he had dashed himself against a rock. had to-night but one clear thought in his throbbing head. Noel Faval was out of the way-out of the way-out of the way. The words rang in his ears. It gave him a chance. For the slim lad Faval he had nothing but contemptuous pity. He was out o the way. His bewitching music, his big brown eyes, his slender, graceful form would be heard and seen no more. That fancy would be forgotten, and he (Holmes) would have another chance. Somused the sergeant, and the devil of bitterness gradually gave place to the angel of hope, and at last by the bank of the river he came upon the girl. She was lying in the grass, her face buried in her arms, her black hair loose and her whole form shaken with great sobs. Holmes dropped on one knee beside her and dared in his agitation to lay his hand on her head. "Katy," he said. Katy dear!" She sprang up; her great black eyes gleamed angrily on him; she clenched her hands.

"What have I done to make you hate me, Katy?" he slowly whispered. "You didn't use to before-Faval came."

"And you arrested him!"

"Why did not the fool go away at once? What could I do? I was detailed; it was my duty."

"And now they have sentenced him to three years-him! He will die in the prison with those wretches; he will have no music, nothing. It is horrible! You have killed him, killed that boy!

"Do you love him so much?"
The girl flushed in the starlight.
"What is that to you? I pity

him."

A flash of renewed hope sprang from his heart to his eyes. Pity need not be love. For a moment his sight grew dim, and the next he was at her feet, clutching her dress.

"Katy," he cried. "It is done--it was his own fault. Forget him. He cannot have learned to love you as I have loved you for years. Listen, listen! Don't go away!"

The girl was in vain struggling to release her dress, frightened now.

For

"I am all the men say I am, perhaps," he cried, "surly and all that; but-listen-you are the cause. love of you, and thinking of you, I keep alone. From the horror of losing you I am sometimes half mad. Listen to me, now, and tell me. Will ever any man love you as I love? Will any one do for you what I would do?"

"Leave me, leave me," she cried, but he clung to her.

"I cannot charm you and bewitch you with a pretty face and music, like Faval," he went on, unheeding her. "But I am a man, and a true man! I claim that ! Try me; tell me what to do to prove how much I love you! Whatever it is I shall do

it !"

The girl's thoughts all the evening had dwelt on one thing alone-her bewildered, anxious, wild thoughts. They were yet in her mind, and now they formed themselves, as at a word

"Where's Katy?" Herman demanded, as he unceremoniously ran into Mother Malone's house.

"Dont be askin' me," cried Mrs.

Malone querulously. "What are you wantin' wid Katy at this time of night? It'll be taps in a minute."

"Cause I was down at the guardhouse to see Faval to-night, and he's worryin' awful. He's to be taken to Leavenworth in a day or two. So I thought I'd just ask Katy-he was stuck on Katy just like me to go and cheer him up a bit. I'm not jealous."

"Ye wee divil," howled Mother Malone, welcoming a chance to discharge her wrath upon somebody; "an it's mischief makin' ye're after, is it? Git out uv this! Git out now, afore I do yez harm!"

"What's eating you? I want some apples!"

The angry woman charged upon him. Herman grabbed an apple, upset the barrel, and fled screeching.

"Did yez ever hear the like?" Mrs. Malone muttered. "Katy to go and see Faval. Was iver the like?"

She did not know.

The guardhouse lay at the back of the post, on the bluff overlooking the meadows. The inner room was very full as a result of pay day. The sloping wooden platform on which the prisoners, wrapt in their blankets, slept, was lined with recumbent figures. Some of the long-sentence-men, however, for greater comfort, had made hammocks of their blankets and slung them by cords from hooks in the walls. The barred windows were few, and by one of these, in a corner, Faval

had slung his hammock beneath another man, who swung near the roof. Thus the window, open for the heat, was almost shut off from sight of the rest of the occupants and the wicket which separated the guard from the prisoners. An Indian scout had been brought in from the camp, a wild and savage sight. He lay outstretched on his back on the floor, howling lugubriously, and beating on the boards. with extended fists. In his drunken muddle-headedness he had an idea that the white men were about to hang him and his howls sank to a long, horrible, wailing death song.

Amid the noise and the heat and the stench of the overcrowded room Faval was wide awake. For half an hour after taps so he remained, until the lamp at the door was removed. Soon the post recovered from its periodical outburst of pay-day riot, resumed its regular nightly air of repose, and the lonely sentries began their monotonous calls. Faval's window opened on the back of the guardhouse, and he could not see the sentry on number one. But very distinctly there came to his ears the methodical beat of the soldier's shoes on the porch, and at last his first proclamation to his brother sentries of the hour.

"Ten o'clock," Faval murmured. "Two hours yet-it is a year!"

As the distant call came faintly from the far-away distant posts, and number one repeated "All's well!" the young musician stealthily reached from his hammock and grasped one of the window bars. It shook beneath the pressure of his slender fingers. "Easily!" he muttered, and then he huddled in his hammock as he heard the sentry challenge and quickly shout to the sergeant inside :

"Officer of the day! Turn out the guard!"

Had they suspected? Had they discovered?

"Never mind the guard!"

The trembling lad heard the officer step on the porch and the sergeant make his report. Faval perspired with fear. What was it? Were they talk

"He won't be back until early morning," the corporal of the guard remarked with a yawn. Daddy Dodds is getting old and likes his snooze, even when he's officer of the day. Where are you off to, Holmes?" The sergeant inside replied gruffly, as was his wont :

"There were so many prisoners coming in, I had no time to get my blank

ets.

Take the keys till I come back.'

He went out, but he did not go to the barracks for his blankets. It was dark and moonless now, and at the foot of the bluff he met the girl. She was very pale, but in her there was no sign of fear. Her eyes glittered with determination. He tried to take her hand, but she withdrew it and whispered:

"Not yet not until it is done. Is he ready?"

"He ought to be ready. I have done all I can," he answered, a little sullenly. "At midnight I shall engage Number One's attention."

"I must see him," she said. must say goodbye.

dow."

“།

I know the win

He flashed up at that with suspicious anger.

"What do you want to see him for?" he whispered sullenly. "You told me to save him, and I have, but you are mine now. I don't want you to see him."

She laughed, and put her hand in his.

"I know, Holmes," she said. "You are true and—and I love you better than I ever did, but-"

He interrupted her by passionately kissing her hand, and stooping he could not note her frown.

"-but that poor boy! He loved me, too, and let me say goodbye!"

He let her go, and she slipped up the bluff, and so to the barred window. At once Faval's hand caught hers. "The bar ?" she whispered. "It's loose."

"The horses are at the cottonwood clump on the river. Noel, Noel, be careful!"

"My darling, I shall be there-or shot."

She was back with Holmes immediately, and, though her eyes sparkled, she wiped them with her handkerchief.

"Poor fellow," she said, and paused, and then went on, "and so he is gone forever. Thank you sergeant, I—I do like you now."

Holmes took her in his arms and kissed her.

"God bless you, Katy," he said, filled with love," and may he forget me if I do not make you happy all my life."

He left her, dazed at that caress, and went back to his duty, and the girl looked after him with a smile and a sigh.

The night passed on, punctuated by the yawning sentries' calls. The men marvelled at the sergeant's unaccustomed cheerfulness. He chatted with them, and laughed. They remembered afterwards that for once they had heard Holmes laugh. He did not lie down. At twelve the sentry called the hour, and Holmes shortly afterwards left him, saying he would patrol around the guardhouse. At Faval's window he stopped. No noise came from within, save that of the prisoners' snores. He peered inside and made out that Faval's hammock was empty. One bar hung loose from its fastenings at the top. The sergeant put it in place softly. "He is gone!" he thought. "Out of the way-out of the way-out of the way, and she is promised to me!"

The relief went out at one o'clock, and soon the tired sentries relieved came tramping in with the corporal. Holmes was lying on his bunk in the office, but not asleep. Sleep was far from his glad eyes. He heard the sentries gossip as they prepared to lay down.

the river flowed; on his left the land rose in rippling bluffs, a gray-black mass in the starlight. For many miles

ed past on the river trail.

I could just

see them from Number Six. They were going B-bar ranch way, and I thought they'd maybe been visiting in officers' row."

Holmes raised his head-a man? That was all right. A woman? Who could they be? He sat on they edge of his cot. A terrible thought filled his mind. It could not be—yet, yet-dared she play that trick? For a minute he sat still, and then, without a word of excuse, he left the guardhouse. went straight to Mother Malone's. The angry woman was still sitting there, awaiting her husband and daughter.

He

"Where is Katy?" the sergeant asked, and his face was so white that the scars stood out upon his brow and cheeks in scarlet.

66

Where, indeed?" cried Mrs. Malone. "The baggage! She's not been in to-night! She'll leave my house! Holmes! Holmes! What is it? What has she done now?"

With a loud curse the sergeant turned on his heel and rushed off. He made straight for the stables of his troop and roused the stable sergeant by blows on the gate.

"My horse, by order of the officer of the day!" he hoarsely yelled. "A prisoner has escaped!"

IV.

If he had been capable of thought, capable of planning a sure revenge, he would first have roused the guard, and sent half a troop after the fugitives. Perhaps, indeed, he did not think, but felt that this was a matter which concerned him alone. Therefore he went swiftly at a gallop in pursuit, and the sleepy stable sergeant went back to bed, and the guard remained on watch, wondering where their sergeant had gone to, but unaware of the prisoner's escape.

The river road? He spurred his horse down the trail furiously until the post was far behind him. On his right

lonely trail stretched drearily, without house, without town, for nigh 100 miles, when at last it ended at the railway. He was able with an effort, to consider that the two would spare their horses, knowing how far they had to go, and hardly expecting pursuit before guard mount in the morning, when the officer of the day would make his report. They had more than an hour's start, but if he pressed hard after them he should catch up soon. That settled, he urged his horse to the utmost, and gave himself up to the mad rage of jealousy and disappointment. He had known her from a child to be wilful and passionate and mischievous, but he had never, in his adoration, believed her capable of such deceit. He did not stop to think that love had forced himself to break his oath, to neglect his duty, to assist a prisoner under his charge to escape, to forfeit, if the truth became known, the trust of his officers and the name he had won in years of hard campaigning. He did not stop to think of what love might have forced her also to do. His mood was entirely selfish. He was wounded sorely, and he wished for nothing but revenge.

The dust scattered in clouds about him; the horse, in that hot night, soon was steaming wet. He never slackened pace. Now and again there was a creek to cross, and through them he dashed, heedless of mud-hole or rock or stump. Once a belated Indian freighter met him and grunted an astonished "How!" Holmes hardly saw him, nor answered his greeting. In an instant he was out of sight and hearing. So he rode, blind to all he passed, his eyes glaring ahead, his teeth grating, seeking revenge for the slight and the scorn and the lie.

They had travelled more quickly than he had reckoned they would, and the sky of the midsummer morning was turning slowly from gray to violet when he saw them, and drew the revolver he carried as being on guard