se. "I will inquire,
madame," he said, with grave courtesy. "You shall know in a moment."

"How _very_ kind of you!" said the lady. "Indeed I must not trouble you.
I'm sure the porter will be here after a while."

And even as she spoke, and as he was pulling on an overcoat, the train
rumbled off again. Then came an exclamation, this time from the younger:

"Why, Kate! Look! see all these men,--and horses! Why, they are
soldiers,--cavalry! Oh, how I love to see them again! But, oh, how cold
they look!--frozen!"

"Who _can_ they be?" said Mrs. Rayner, all vehement interest now, and
gazing eagerly from the window at the lowered heads of the horses and
the muffled figures in blue and fur. "What _can_ they be doing in the
field in such awful weather? I cannot recognize one of them, or tell
officers from men. Surely that must be Captain Wayne,--and Major
Stannard. Oh, what can it mean?"

The young man had suddenly leaped to the window behind them, and was
gazing out with an eagerness and interest little less apparent than her
own, but in a moment the train had whisked them out of sight of the
storm-beaten troopers. Then he hurried to the rear window of the car,
and Mrs. Rayner as hastily followed.

"_Do_ you know them?" she asked.

"Yes. That _was_ Major Stannard. It is his battalion of the ----th
Cavalry, and they have been out scouting after renegade Cheyennes.
Pardon me, madame, I must go forward and see who have boarded the
train."

He stopped at his section, and again she followed him, her eyes full of
anxiety. He was busy tugging at a flask in his travelling-bag.

"You know them! Do you know--have you heard of any infantry being out?
Pardon me for detaining you, but I am very anxious. My husband is
Captain Rayner, of Fort Warrener."

"No infantry have been sent, madame, I--have reason to know; at least,
none from Warrener."

And with that he hurriedly bowed and left her. The next moment, flask in
hand, he was crossing the storm-swept platform and making his way to the
head of the train.

"I believe he is an officer," said Mrs. Rayner to her sister. "Who else
would be apt to know about the movement of the troops? Did you notice
how gentle his manner was?--and he never smiled: he has such a sad face.
Yet he can't be an officer, or he would have made himself known to us
long ago."

"Is there no name on the satchel?" asked Miss Travers, with pardonable
curiosity. "He has an interesting face,--not handsome."