y before the calm and
unconquerable gaze in her sister's eyes. For the first time in her life
Kate Rayner realized that her "baby Nell" had the stronger will of the
two. For one instant she contemplated vengeance. A torrent of invective
leaped readily to her lips. "Outrage," "ingrate," "insult," were the
first three distinguishable epithets applied to her sister or her
sister's words; then, "See if Mr. Van Antwerp will tolerate such
conduct. I'll write this very day," was the impotent threat that
followed; and finally, utterly defeated, thoroughly convinced that she
was powerless against her sister's reckless love of "fair play at any
price," she felt that her wrath was giving way to dismay, and turned and
fled, lest Nellie should see the flag of surrender on her paling cheeks.

XIII.

Two nights after this, as Captain Buxton was sulkily going the rounds of
the sentries he made a discovery which greatly enlivened an otherwise
uneventful tour as officer of the day. It had been his general custom on
such occasions to take the shortest way across the parade to the
guard-house, make brief and perfunctory inspection there, then go on
down the hill to the creek valley and successively visit the sentries
around the stables. If the night were wet or cold, he went back the same
way, ignoring the sentries at the coal-and store-sheds along Prairie
Avenue. This was a sharply cold night, and very dark, but equally still.
It was between twelve and one o'clock--nearer one than twelve--as he
climbed the hill on his homeward way, and, instead of taking the short
cut, turned northward and struck for the gloomy mass of sheds dimly
discernible some forty yards from the crest. He had heard other officers
speak of the fact that Mr. Hayne's lights were burning until long after
midnight, and that, dropping in there, they had found him seated at his
desk with a green shade over his eyes, studying by the aid of two
student-lamps; "boning to be a general, probably," was the comment of
captains of Buxton's calibre, who, having grown old in the service and
in their own ignorance, were fiercely intolerant of lieutenants who
strove to improve in professional reading instead of spending their time
making out the company muster-rolls and clothing-accounts, as they
should do. Buxton wanted to see for himself what the night-lights meant,
and was plunging heavily ahead through the darkness, when suddenly
brought to a stand by the sharp challenge