was utterly worn out, and every bone in my body
seemed to be rebelling about something, still I could not sleep, but
listened constantly for Billie. I blamed myself so much for not having
shut up the cat and fancied I heard the cat chasing him.

After a long, long time, it seemed hours, I heard a faint noise like a
scratch on tin, and lighting a lamp quickly, I went to the kitchen and
then listened. But not a sound was to be heard. At the farther end a
bank had been cut out to make room for the kitchen, which gave it a dirt
wall almost to the low ceiling, and all across this wall were many rows
of shelves where tins of all sorts and cooking utensils were kept, and
just above the top shelf was a hole where the cat could go out on the
bank. I put the lamp back of me on the table and kept very still and
looked all along the shelves, but saw nothing of Billie. Finally, I
heard the little scratch again, and looking closely at some large tins
where I thought the sound had come from, I saw the little squirrel.
He was sitting up in between two of the pans that were almost his own
color, with his head turned one side, and "hands on his heart," watching
me inquisitively with one black eye.

He was there and apparently unharmed, but to catch him was another
matter. I approached him in the most cautious manner, talking and cooing
to him all the time, and at last I caught him, and the little fellow was
so glad to be with friends once more, he curled himself in my hands,
and put two little wet paws around a thumb and held on tight. It was
raining, and he was soaking wet, so he must have been out of doors. It
would have been heartbreaking to have been obliged to come away without
finding that little grayback, and perhaps never know what became of
him. I know where my dear dog is, and that is bad enough. We heard just
before leaving the post that men of the company had put up a board at
Hal's grave with his name cut in it. We knew that they loved him and
were proud of him, but never dreamed that any one of them would show so
much sentiment. Faye has taken the horses with him and Cagey also.

The young men of Helena gave the officers an informal dance last night.
At first it promised to be a jolly affair, but finally, as the evening
wore on, the army people became more and more quiet, and at the last
it was distressing to see the sad faces that made dancing seem a farce.
They are going to an Indian country, and the separation may be lo