instant to ask, "You have reported the losses, I presume?"

"Yes, the dead and wounded. There are some missing, who may yet come
in. Major Elliott and fourteen others are still unaccounted for." He
paused. "By the way, Sergeant, while you are with Sheridan, explain to
him who you are--he may have news for you. Good-night, and good luck."

He stood up and held out his hand. In surprise, his eyes suddenly
filling with tears, Hamlin felt the grip of his fingers. Then he
turned, unable to articulate a sentence, and strode away into the night.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

AT CAMP SUPPLY

There are yet living in that great Southwest those who will retell the
story of Hamlin's ride from the banks of the Washita to Camp Supply.
It remains one of the epics of the plains, one of the proud traditions
of the army. To the man himself those hours of danger, struggle and
weariness, were more a dream than a reality. He passed through them
almost unconsciously, a soldier performing his duty in utter
forgetfulness of self, nerved by the discipline of years of service, by
the importance of his mission, and by memory of Molly McDonald. Love
and duty held him reeling in the saddle, brought him safely to the
journey's end.

Let the details pass unwritten. Beneath the darkening skies of early
evening, the Sergeant and the Osage guide rode forth into the peril and
mystery of the shrouded desert. Beyond the outmost picket, moving as
silently as two spectres, they found at last a coulee leading upward
from the valley to the plains above. To their left the Indian fires
swept in half circle, and between were the dark outlines of savage
foes. From rock to rock echoed guttural voices, but, foot by foot,
unnoted by the keen eyes, the two crept steadily on through the
midnight of that sheltering ravine, dismounted, hands clasping the
nostrils of their ponies, feeling through the darkness for each step,
halting breathless at every crackle of a twig, every crunch of snow
under foot. Again and again they paused, silent, motionless, as some
apparition of savagery outlined itself between them and the sky, yet
slowly, steadily, every instinct of the plains exercised, they passed
unseen.

In the earliest gray of dawn the two wearied men crept out upon the
upper plateau, dragging their horses. Behind, the mists of the night
still hung heavy and dark over the valley, yet with a new sense of
freedom they swung into their saddles, faced ster