bank of the Missouri River, then across the
Pine Ridge Reservation, and so on to Beacon Crossing. I hope to find
you as young in spirit as ever. I have many gray hairs, but no
matter, so long as I find you well I shall be more than satisfied.
_Au revoir._

"Your affectionate

"LANDOR."

"_Au revoir_," muttered the man, as he viciously tore the letter into the
minutest fragments, and ground them into the hard earth with a ruthless
heel. "_Au revoir_," he said again, and louder. Then he laughed. "But we
haven't met yet. Why should I take a share when you and your wife, and
your brat are the only people who stand between me and the lot?"

And after that he relapsed into silence, and his thoughts flew on apace.
The unwashed face grew meaner and more brooding, the fair brows drew
closer over the large blue eyes, the jaws were shut as tight as they well
could be, for he was painfully overshot, and his chin was almost hidden,
so far receding was it under the long, drooping, tobacco-stained
moustache.

That letter, it would seem, required no depth of thought, unless it were
the happy thought that he possessed such a brother. It seemed to be a
moment for nothing but happiness. And in such a man one might reasonably
have expected to see him mount the horse tethered a few yards away in
front of the hut, and ride into Beacon Crossing, where he could tell his
associates of his good fortune, and celebrate it in the usual manner.

But there was nothing of happiness in the face that stared so steadily out
at the hazy sky-line in the direction of the Cheyenne Reservation away to
the north. There was a hard look, such as is to be seen only in pale blue
eyes;--a look of unyielding hatred and obstinacy; a look which, combined
with the evident weakness of character displayed in his features,
suggested rather the subtle treachery of a coward than the fierce
resentment of a brave man.

Never was a character more fully laid bare than was his at that moment. He
was conscious of his isolation. There was no one to see. He hated his
brother as a weak nature hates a strong. He hated him because years ago
he, Nevil, had refused to go into the army for the reason of an obstinate
cowardice, while his younger brother gladly embraced the profession of
which their father, the stern old general, had been such an honored
member. And so