that she might not be intruded upon, as it was Dr. Wallen's mandate that
she should sleep, if a possible thing. Stone looked queerly, sharply, at
her and turned away. The major made no reply to her remarks, but desired
that Master James be sent to him as soon as he returned. It seems that
Jimmy had accompanied Sergeant French, a keen angler, to a trout stream
up in the Sagamore Range early in the afternoon. It might be late before
they returned. "Lucky thing, that!" thought the colonel, as he hastened
homeward to lay aside his full uniform, the orderly, meantime, speeding
over to the post surgeon's.

"What do you make of him?" asked the colonel, an hour later, as the
senior medical officer came lumbering up the steps.

"He seems, physically, all right now," was the answer. "There is no
functional disorder. He's sound as a dollar as far as our tests can
determine, but Dwight has been under a strain, as we know, and
then--there's that Luzon sunstroke. Any time, almost, that may lead to
such symptoms as you noted at parade."

"Lucky Dwight isn't a drinking man," said Stone grimly. "There won't be
any more _Banner of Light_ descriptions of our depravity for a time,
anyhow; but--fancy the story _that_ would make in expert hands--and a
Prohibition sheet. God grant no worse scandal come to us," he added
piously, and in guarded tone, as the surgeon took his leave.

It was barely nine o'clock when, some garrison callers having departed,
Mrs. Stone picked up a light wrap and said she believed she would stroll
down the line and see Mrs. Ray. Everybody by this time had heard of the
fracas at the office of the post Exchange at noonday, and the few who
had caught sight of the left side of Foster's face bore testimony to the
fact that Sandy Ray had lost little, if any, of one science he picked up
at the Point. Mrs. Ray would surely be feeling anxious and distressed,
said Mrs. Stone, even though everyone assured her, in manner if not in
words, that public sympathy was all with Sandy.

"I believe I'll go, too," said Stone. "I'm feeling woozy to-night." So,
arm in arm, this Darby and Joan of the frontier betook themselves down
the row, past many an open casement and doorway, softly lighted, with
whispering couples in the shadows and laughing, chatting groups upon the
steps, with the tinkle of mandolin and guitar to mingle with the soft
murmur of voices, despite many a hospitable bid to "Come and join us,"
the couple kept sturdily on