campaigning had
improved him, even at the expense of a sensitive complexion. Mr.
Davies's nose was peeling, as a result of a week's exposure to
blistering Wyoming suns, his eyes were red-rimmed too, in tribute to
alkali dust and water. The gloss was gone from his trim fatigue dress, a
red silk handkerchief had replaced the white starched collar, and a soft
drab felt hat the natty forage-cap. But he looked the more soldierly and
serviceable if less trim, and being tall, spare, and athletic, if not
particularly handsome, Mr. Davies was at least as presentable as the
average of his fellows now thronging the post, for bristling beards and
frontier scouting-dress banish all vestige of dandyism. But if she liked
him still better now that the week had wrought its changes, what could
be said of his impressions? Attractive as she had appeared in the grime
and dust and heat of the railway car, now in that dainty gown of cool
white lawn, open at the rounded throat, she saw with woman's unerring
eye the unspoken approval if not open admiration in his face. Not yet
nineteen, she had lived a busy, earnest, thoughtful life. The Cranstons
had known her from early maidenhood. She was a child in the Southern
garrison in the days of the great epidemic, when the young captain owed
his life to the doctor's skill and assiduous care. It was this that led
to the deep friendship between the two men, and to Cranston's assuming
the duties of guardian and protector after Loomis's lamented death. It
was this that determined her hastening to Mrs. Cranston the moment the
sad news came, and then accompanying her to the frontier. A mature head
was that on her young shoulders, but she who had so easily repelled the
advances of the admiring fellow-passenger on the train had been
attracted by the bearing and behavior of the young officer, who,
absorbed in his new cares and duties, had apparently noticed her hardly
at all. She and the train conductor and Mr. Langston, the elder of the
two civilians, at least, knew who was the inspiration of that effective
squelching given the rioting recruits, whatever impression might be
prevailing at department head-quarters or at Sanders. She, presumably,
had her duties as assistant to Mrs. Cranston at the bedside of the
sorely wounded officer. Davies, too, had matters requiring his attention
about the post, for the word had gone the rounds that they were to march
at dawn on the morrow. Yet here under the vine-sheltered p