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side, and a little escort attending, rode away down to the Chaduza, to report to the general commanding, and then go on to his own, for ominous tales had come from the Bad Lands. There was trouble in store for all. [Illustration: UNITED STATES CAVALRY IN WINTER RIG] First, however, there was wonderful welcome for him at Niobrara. The skies had grown wintry. The snow patches were beginning to dot the prairie, but the camp-fires burned the brighter, and men clustered about them and talked of the "luck" of the new lieutenant, whom the general himself alighted from his escort wagon to greet and to question. For several days the chums were needed at the fort, where both prisoners and witnesses were held, but the case against the self-styled hunters was so overwhelming that the demand for their stay was soon at an end, and, in the train of the general, they went on westward to the winter camp of the assembled cavalry, whither "the old regiment" had preceded them, and there, one dark and wintry evening, with the snow-flakes sifting down, and the depths of a distant valley all dotted with tiny blazes--the cook fires of a whole brigade--they were met by a troop of cavalry in fur caps and gauntlets, and huge, blanket-lined overcoats--swarthy, bearded fellows, with service-stained boots and trappings, but looking fit for the hardest kind of campaigning and any kind of a fight. It swung from column into line, saluted the general with advanced carbines, and then, wheeling by fours to right, trotted briskly away with the little cortege, and presently its commander, after a few words with the general, fell back, peering from under his bushy headpiece, and sung out in cheery tones Geordie had not heard for many a day, yet knew on the instant: "Ah, there you are, Mr. Graham! We have a horse with us ready for you now!" And lo! it was Captain Lane, with his own troop ("E" of the --th), sent out to lead the general's escort into camp. Leaving the companions of the long, jolting ambulance ride, Geordie sprang to the back of a mettlesome bay, led forward by a muffled-up trooper who steadied the young officer's stirrup before turning aside to remount, while a tall, spare, wiry-looking sergeant sat stiffly in saddle, his fur-covered hand at salute, his long gray mustache and stubbly beard and thin hooked nose being almost all that could be seen of the face; yet the twinkle in his waiting captain's eyes and a twitch in the muscles of
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