A little force of soldiery fighting, not for ourselves, but for the hearthstones of a nobler people, our cavalry swung up that long, western slope in the face of a murderous fire, into the very heart of Cheyenne strength, enforced by all the iron of the allied tribes.  I marvel at it now, when, in solid phalanx, our foes might easily have mowed us down like a thin line of standing grain; for their numbers seemed unending, while flight on flight of arrows and fierce sheets of rifle-fire swept our ranks as we rode on to death or victory.  But each man’s face among us there was bright with courage, and with our steady force unchecked we swept right on to the very crest of the high slope, scattering the enemy, at last, like wind-blown autumn leaves, until upon our guidons victory rested and the long day was won.

XX

GONE OUT

    I wander alone at dead of night,
    But ever before me I see a light,
    In darkest hours more clear, more bright;
      And the hope that I bear fails never.

        FREDRICH RUeCKERT.

The waters of the Smoky Hill flowed yellow, flecked with foam, beside our camp, where, in a little grove of cottonwood trees, we rested from a long day’s march.  The heat of a late Kansas summer day was fanned away at twilight by the cool prairie breeze.  There was an appealing something in the air that evening hour that made me homesick.  So I went down beside the river to fight out my daily battle and let the wide spaces of the landscape soothe me, and all the opal tints of sunset skies and the soft radiance of a prairie twilight bring me their inspiration.

Each day my heart-longing for the girl I must not love grew stronger.  I wondered, as I sat here to-night, what trail would open for me when Beverly and Eloise should meet again, as lovers must meet some time.  We had not once spoken her name between us, Bev and I, in all the days and nights since we had been in service on the plains.

As I sat lonely, musing vaguely of a score of things that all ran back to one fair face, Beverly dropped down beside me.  His face was grave and his eyes had a gentle, pleading look, something strange and different from the man whose moods I knew.

“I’m homesick, Gail.”  He smiled as he spoke, and all the boy of all the years was in that smile.

“So am I, Bev.  It must be in the water here,” I replied, lightly.

But neither one misunderstood the other.

“I’d like to see Little Lees to-night.  Wouldn’t you?” he asked, suddenly.

The question startled me.  Maybe my cousin wanted to confide in me here.  I would not be selfish with him.

“Yes, I always like to see her.  Why to-night, though?” I asked, encouragingly.

Beverly looked steadily into my face.

“I want to tell you something, Gail.  I haven’t dared to speak before, but something tells me I should speak to-night,” he said slowly.