hat
they had pushed out again for the Little Missouri country the last of
August, and here it was beyond mid September. A whole regiment of
cavalry encamped for a day or two on the prairie, then marched
northward. Natty artillerymen from San Francisco dropped in to pay their
respects on their way to "the Hills;" not a day passed without the
arrival of strange officers, scores of men, and squadrons of horses.
Russell had suddenly blossomed into first rank as a great supply depot,
and in all the excitement of greeting the new-comers, and sending
messages and missives to the dear ones at the front, the pall of tragedy
was lifted from the post. Gleason and Wolf were, alike, wellnigh
forgotten.

And then with sudden thrill the news tore through the post, and flashed
over the wires in every direction, that a courier had ridden down from
the northern limits of the hills bringing despatches from Crook, and
announcing that, though half starved, ragged, and practically
dismounted, the followers of the Gray Fox had reached the Belle Fourche,
and would soon be able to push on to the agencies. They had dashed upon
the Sioux villages at Slim Buttes, capturing hundreds of their fat
ponies (and greedily eating many of them that very night), had found
the lodges crammed with the spoil of the Custer battle, had killed
several warriors and burned every ounce of Indian stores or provisions
they could not use, and had two days' ringing, spirited fighting with
Crazy Horse and his charging hosts among the fog wreaths and dripping
crags of those strange, picturesque upheavals; then burying their dead
and bringing away their wounded, they were once more within reach of
supplies, though it might be weeks before they could come home. "Another
battle and we not there," was Blake's sympathetic despatch to Ray at
Denver; but now the last seemed to be recorded. Another week and letters
might be expected. Another fortnight and it was known that all the
forces were concentrating at Red Cloud to disarm the disaffected bands
near the agencies. And then Blake and Ray, too, had both sped northward
again to join their regiment. Ray's affairs had been summarily settled
in this wise.

Rallston's illness had been severe, and Ray and Nell had been constantly
at his side. When the fever broke and consciousness returned, and the
patient realized where he was and who were his nurses, the man's remorse
and shame were something pitiable. Of him, as an impartial hi