nd as the last hoof fell into position where the rider wished, they
became as rigid as a company of warriors carved in stone.

"What will they do next!" was the wonder in all the observers' minds,
as they gazed in fascination at this curious sight.

What they would do next seemed long in coming. Though it was but a few
moments it seemed like ages while the redskins waited, stolid, immovable
before the doorway of the mansion. But, at last, the spell was broken.

Across from the Barracks, around the corner, through the cloistered
walk, came Captain Lemuel, whistling. He was in good spirits; ready to
join his "Squad" beside the fountain and have an evening's "gabble" with
the youngsters. They had been abnormally good that day. Wholly obedient
to his restrictions in the length of their rides, eager to improve in
their shooting--which was so far removed from "sharp"; and in every
respect so "decent" that he puzzled his brain to find the best story to
tell them of old days in Colorado and of his own prowess therein.

But, as he passed the corner, his whistling ceased. The story was told!
And a far better one than any his memory could furnish.

The young watchers caught their breath. Poor Captain Lem! Rushing thus
to his own undoing! But still they had to gaze and gaze--they could not
turn their eyes away; and gazing they beheld a stranger thing than any
which had gone before.

That was the jolly Captain clapping his hands as if in glee, bowing
before the silent Chief, almost prostrating himself, in fact. Afterward
a brief clasping of hands between the two and the Captain beginning a
long harangue in a strange tongue, interrupted now and then by grunts
and gutturals from the attentive Indians. Then giving the Chief his
finest military salute, the Captain "right faced" and silently marched
away. The Indians as silently followed him, the Chief first, and the
others in single file, till they all disappeared toward the Barracks,
and the youngsters were left gasping in amazement.

A sigh of relief rose from them in unison and, hearing it, Molly lifted
her face. She only had seen nothing of the pantomime, or such it seemed
which had been enacted, though she had heard through her terror the
whistling of the Captain and its abrupt ceasing.

"Is--is--he--dead?" she whispered.

"He's the liveliest dead man I ever saw. Come on, boys! That's the sight
of our lives! Who's afraid?" cried Herbert, springing up and eager.

But his s