isor and not so much as a glance.

How could the "boys" from far Nebraska be supposed to know that the
little chap had spent his whole life in the shadow of the flag, and had
many a time in baby days been dandled on the very arm that was now so
deferentially bent and uplifted in soldier homage? What was there in the
manner of the youngster to betray the fact that he dreaded old Sergeant
Rigney's criticism even more than that of his commanding officer?

Then came another phenomenon.

At a brief, curt "Sergeant, get out your prisoners," from the beardless
lips, there was instant fumbling of big keys and clanking of iron from
the hidden recesses of the guard-house.

The dismounted troopers sprang suddenly to attention. The guard split in
two at its middle, each half facing outward, marched half a dozen paces
away like the duellists of old days from the back to back position,
halted, faced front once more, and stood again at ease, with a broad gap
of a dozen paces between their inner flanks.

Into this space, shuffling dejectedly in some cases, stalking defiantly
in others, slinking, shivering, and decrepit in the case of two or three
poor wrecks of the rum fiend, a stream of humanity in soiled soldier
garb came pouring from the prison door and lined up under the eyes of
vigilant non-commissioned officers in front of the young lieutenant in
command.

There they stood, their eyes shifting nervously from group to group of
huddling spectators, their shoulders hunched up to their ears--the
riff-raff of the garrison--the few desperate, dangerous characters from
the surrounding camps, an uncouth, uncanny lot at any time, but looking
its worst in the drip of the floating fog-wreaths and the gloom and
despond of the dying day. The boom of the sunset gun from Alcatraz fell
sullenly on the ear even as the soft trumpets of the cavalry, close at
hand, began sounding the "Retreat." At its last prolonged note the sharp
crack of an old three-inch rifle echoed the report from Alcatraz, and
from the invisible, mist-shrouded top of the staff the dripping folds of
the storm-flag came flapping down in view, limp and bedraggled, and the
guard sprang again to attention as a burly, red-faced, hearty-looking
soldier, with a captain's insignia in loop and braid on the sleeves of
his overcoat, broke a way through the group of lookers-on and, barely
waiting for the salute and report of the young lieutenant commanding,
began a sharp scrutiny of