gone. "I have made a tracing of that map, colonel," said the
adjutant, when after two hours the official returned. "I hope you don't
object. I know you can't leave the originals with me."

"That's all right," was the answer. "Say, Leonard, who's that young cit
with the swell team who came to take Mrs. Davies sleighing? I didn't
catch the name."

"His name's Willett," said Leonard, briefly.

"What's he doing here?"

"Cattle."

"Cattle in Braska, perhaps, but here, I mean."

"I don't know," said Leonard to the officer. "I wish I did," said
Leonard to himself. "If I did--I'd smash him."

Mr. Langston had driven out to the post with Willett that afternoon. He
had other calls to pay, and this was Saturday, a favorite day for
visiting at Braska. The Cranstons' house was topsy-turvy, everybody in
the midst of packing, but Langston had a box of _bon-bons_ which the
ladies, or the boys, might enjoy as reminders of Chicago, and he rang.
Miss Loomis herself, in cap and apron, opened the door. Her shapely,
soft white hands were covered with the dust of books and papers she had
been busily storing in the boxes, and her face flushed, just a bit, at
sight of her visitor.

"I cannot shake hands with you, Mr. Langston, and, as you see, we're all
at work, but welcome in. I'll call Mrs. Cranston."

"No. Don't," he said, hurriedly. "I only came to offer these trifles. I
heard you were all busy packing and had hoped to hear that, after all,
you were not going up to that forsaken spot. Is it true?"

"Certainly. Wherever Captain Cranston goes there goes his wife, and
where she goes to live is my home and duty."

He stood looking steadfastly into her brave, beautiful face. He was tall
and stalwart: she almost Juno-like in the grandeur of her form. He could
not conceal the admiration that glowed in his eyes. He could not, dare
not speak so soon the thoughts that had been surging in his brain,
springing up from his very heart. What would he not give could she but
accept the offer he longed to lay at her feet, that of a name, a love, a
home wherein she should reign as queen, not live as a dependent. Such
silences are eloquent. She turned quickly away. "Louis, tell mother Mr.
Langston has come out to say good-by," said she, and Mrs. Cranston, not
ten feet away, these being army quarters, had to appear.

"I didn't mean to say good-by here exactly," said Langston. "I rather
planned to see you. I thought perhaps you'd honor me by breakf