Between these two men not a word had been exchanged for five years,—­not a single word since the day when, with ashen face and broken accents, but with stern purpose in every syllable, Lieutenant Hayne, standing in the presence of nearly all the officers of his regiment, had hurled this prophecy in his adversary’s teeth:  “Though it take me years, I will live it down despite you; and you will wish to God you had bitten out your perjured tongue before ever you told the lie that wrecked me.”

No wonder there was talk, and lots of it, in the “Riflers” and all through the garrison when Rayner’s first lieutenant suddenly threw up his commission and retired to the mines he had located in Montana, and Hayne, the “senior second,” was promoted to the vacancy.  Speculation as to what would be the result was given a temporary rest by the news that War Department orders had granted the subaltern six months’ leave,—­the first he had sought in as many years.  It was known that he had gone East; but hardly had he been away a fortnight when there came the trouble with the Cheyennes at the reservation,—­a leap for liberty by some fifty of the band, and an immediate rush of the cavalry in pursuit.  There were some bloody atrocities, as there always are.  All the troops in the department were ordered to be in readiness for instant service, while the officials eagerly watched the reports to see which way the desperate band would turn; and the next heard of Mr. Hayne was the news that he had thrown up his leave and had hurried out to join his company the moment the Eastern papers told of the trouble.  It was all practically settled by the time he reached the department; but the spirit and intent of his action could not be doubted.  And now here he was at Warrener.  That very morning during the matinee he had entered the office unannounced, walked up to the desk of the commander, and, while every voice but his in the room was stilled, he quietly spoke: 

“Permit me to introduce myself, colonel,—­Mr. Hayne.  I desire to relinquish my leave of absence and report for duty.”

The colonel quickly arose and extended his hand: 

“Mr. Hayne, I am especially glad to see you and to thank you here for all your care and kindness to our men.  The doctor tells me that many of them would have had to suffer the loss of noses and ears, even of hands and feet in some cases, but for your attention.  Major Stannard will add his thanks to mine when he returns.  Take a seat, sir, for the present.  You are acquainted with the officers of your own regiment, doubtless.  Mr. Billings, introduce Mr. Hayne to ours.”

Whereat the adjutant courteously greeted the new-comer, presented a small party of yellow-strapped shoulders, and then drew him into earnest talk about the adventure of the train.  It was noticed that Mr. Hayne neither by word nor glance gave the slightest recognition of the presence of the officers of his own regiment, and that they as studiously avoided him.  One or two of their number had, indeed, risen and stepped forward, as though to offer him the civil greeting due to one of their own cloth; but it was with evident doubt of the result.  They reddened when he met their tentative—­which was that of a gentleman—­with a cold look of utter repudiation.  He did not choose to see them, and, of course, that ended it.