th this time. Hatton, indeed, offered
his services, but was told he could not be spared. Morning brought
tidings that the war-parties were seen only seven miles away at
sunrise; and in the presence of the common foe the major, for the time
being, put aside the matter weighing so heavily on his mind, but not
for a moment could he forget her startled face as he threw open that
door. It was time indeed to look the situation squarely through and
through. It might be necessary to send for Forrest.

Another day brought with it a strong column of cavalry hastening up
from the railway at Cheyenne, and these troops were to be fully
provided with rations and ammunition before setting forth toward the
Black Hills, whither they were ordered. It was bustle and business for
everybody. The major said no more to Hatton on the subject of the
interrupted interview; but on the second day, as McLean was lying
languidly in his bed, listening to the sounds of hoofs and heels
without, and bemoaning his fate that he was to be bedridden here when
such stirring times were ahead, his soldier servant came noiselessly to
ask the lieutenant's permission to step out a little while to see some
friends in the cavalry. The attendant was seated in the front room, so
the permission was readily granted.

"Is there anything the lieutenant wants, sir, before I go?"

"Nothing except a handkerchief. Give me one of those silk ones in this
corner of the drawer. They are softer."

The man handed the topmost of the pile, and went noiselessly away.
McLean shook it open, and a card dropped out upon the coverlet.
Surprised, he picked it up and slowly read it, perplexity and then
symptoms of annoyance showing plainly in his face. Twice--thrice he
read it through. Then, stowing it under his pillow, he began to think.

Dr. Weeks came in before a great while to renew the dressing on his
wound, and asked him if he had not been talking too much.

"I haven't been talking at all. Why do you ask?"

"Pulse a little quicker than it was. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing--to speak of. What is there to do but read and think?"

"You mustn't get to fretting because you can't go out with every
expedition, Mac. We all know you'd like it, but you can't have your pie
and eat it. You can't get shot in one fight and expect to get into the
next. If you'll keep quiet here, I think I can put you in saddle again
in a month,--much quicker than I can poor Blunt; but you must be
pa