field service in
rounding up the renegades, and Stanley Foster's troop, Stanley and all,
came over the Sagamore by special delivery, so to speak, and detrained
at Fort Siding, whence a detail sped to the fort for such supplies as
were needed, and the troopers marched at dawn, a wearied-looking captain
at their head. There was much to do in the field; there was much ado at
the fort. This last, which barely escaped becoming official, had to do
mainly with these, our _dramatis personae_, and may now briefly be
recorded, and then our story is done.

The center of human interest, of local interest, at least, was for a
memorable week shifted from the major's quarters to those where lay our
little Jimmie, tossing night and day in fever that threatened to burn
out everything but itself, tended night and day by gentle hands, by
devoted women, by one especially whose pluck and patience never gave
out, and whose physical powers proved indomitable--Priscilla Sanford.
There were days in which they could not induce the father to remain
below. His whole being seemed centered in that desperate fight for life,
wherein he, a soldier of many a heady fight, could wield no weapon for
the cause for which he would instantly have laid down life itself could
it but insure that of his only son. There came one awful day in which,
as he bent over the stricken form, his lips moving in piteous prayer to
Heaven, his eyes imploringly fixed upon the flushed and fevered little
face, suddenly a gleam of recognition seemed to flash from the now
dilating eyes, and as he and Priscilla leaned eagerly forward, in
shuddering terror the writhing form shrank from his touch, the sobbing
cry, startling in its utter amaze, incredulity--its imploring appeal
burst from the burning lips, "Don't strike me, daddy; _please_ don't!
Indeed, _indeed_ I didn't lie!" And with a groan of anguish unspeakable
Oswald Dwight dropped upon his knees and, sobbing aloud, buried his face
in his quivering hands. It was Priscilla who finally raised him to his
feet, and Waring led him, exhausted, from the room. From that hour, in
which it seemed as though Heaven itself had directed the final lesson
should be given, and through him, the patient victim of human
fallibility, the boy began to mend; and one day Waring and Wallen,
coming forth together, stopped and solemnly shook hands at the head of
the stairs and left the chastened father and that dauntless nurse
silently communing in the pr