far and near along the canyon walls.
The flag began to drop, slowly, into the arms of the waiting man who
had given oath of his life to protect it always, and to keep it still
full high advanced. It must never touch the earth at all, but remain a
creature of the air--that is the tradition of our Army and all the
Army's proud color guards.

Sim Gage stopped now, as every man in that encampment, soldier or
laborer, had been trained punctiliously to do, at the evening gun. He
stood at attention, like these others; for Sim Gage was a soldier, or
thought he was. His eyes were fixed on this strange thing, this
creature called the Flag. A strange, fierce jealousy arose in his
heart for it, a savage love, as though it were a thing that belonged to
him. His chest heaved now in the feeling that he was identified with
this guard, waiting for the colors to come to rest and shelter after
the day of duty. It stirred him in a way which he did not understand.
A simple, unintelligent man, of no great shrewdness, though free of any
maudlin sentiment, he stood fast in the mid-street and saluted the
flag, not because he was obliged to do so, but because he passionately
craved to do so.

He turned to meet Annie Squires, who was hurrying away from her own
quarters. She held in her hand a letter which she waved at him as she
approach.

"Look-it here!" she exclaimed. "Look what I found. Where's the Doc?
I want to see him right away."

"He's like enough down at the lower dam by now," said Sim.

"Well, he'd ought to see this."

"What is it?" asked Sim, looking at it questioningly. "Who's it to?"

"Who's it to?" said Annie Squires. "Why, it's to Charlie Dorenwald,
that's who it's to!"

"What? That feller that was up there--one you said you knew before you
come out here?"

"Yes. But how does this Waldhorn chump in there know anything about
Charlie Dorenwald? That's what I want to know."

"What chump? Mr. Waldhorn?"

"I found this in his desk. Well, I wasn't rummaging in his desk, but I
had to slick things up, and saw it. I only run on it by accident."

"What's in it?" said Sim Gage.

"Well, now," said Annie, naively, "I only just steamed it a little. It
rolled open easy with a pen-holder."

"Huh. What you find in it?"

"Why, nothing but nonsense, that's what I found. Listen here. 'Price
wheat next year two-nineteen sharp signal general satisfaction.' Now,
what does that mean? That's foolishness. That ma