smates serving under him in
the ranks and half a dozen more, either as junior officers or enlisted
men, in the camps of the volunteers. He was a handsome boy, a healthy,
hearty boy, and, as boys go, rather a good boy--a boy in whom his mother
would have found, had she not long since been lifted above the cares of
this world, much of comfort and more to condone, but a boy, nevertheless,
who had given his old dragoon of a dad many an anxious hour. Now, just as
he neared the legal dividing line between youth and years of discretion,
Billy Gray had joined the third battalion of his regiment, full of pluck,
hope and health, full of ambition to make a name for himself in a
profession he loved as, except his father, he certainly loved nothing
else, and utterly scoffing the idea that there might come into his life a
being for the sake of whose smile he could almost lay down his sword, for
he had yet to meet Amy Lawrence.

"Who are the women folks up at headquarters, Billy?" asked a youth of his
own years and rank, peering eagerly through the drifting mist at the dim,
ghostly outlines of the general's camp.

"Didn't get to see 'em. Where's the old man--the colonel?" was the reply.
"Chief wants him toot de sweet!"

"What's wanted?" called a voice from the biggest of the neighboring
tents, and a close-cropped head was thrust out between the front tent
flaps. "That you, Billy? Who wants the colonel? He and the 'brig' rode
over to the Presidio an hour ago--ain't got back. Come in; I've started a
fire in our oil stove." A puff of warm air blew from the interior and
confirmed the statement. It was well along in summer and, not a dozen
miles away to the east, men were strolling about with palm-leaf fans and
wilted collars. Here, close to the gray shores of the mighty sea,
blankets and overcoats were in demand. Hospitably the older officer
tugged at the lacings of the military front door, swore between his set
teeth when the knots, swollen by the wet, withstood his efforts and then
shouted:

"Sergeant-major; send somebody here to open this."

A light footstep sounded on the springy board floor, nimble fingers
worked a moment at the cords, then the flap was thrown open and the
adjutant's office stood partially revealed. It was a big wall tent backed
up against another of the same size and pattern. Half a dozen plain
chairs, two rough board tables littered with books, papers and smoking
tobacco, an oil stove and a cheap clothes rack