“What’s wrong to-day, Miss Nina?”

“I want the roan mare and light buggy again,—­quick as you can.  Your own price at the old terms, Mr. Graves,—­silence.”

He nodded, called to a subordinate, and in five minutes handed her into the frail vehicle.  An impatient chirrup and flap of the reins, and the roan shot forth into the dusty road, leaving old Graves shaking his head at the door.

“I’ve known her ever since she was weaned,” he muttered, “and she’s a wild bird, if ever there was one, but she’s never been the like o’ this till last month.”

And the roan mare was covered with foam and sweat when Nina Beaubien drove into the bustling fort, barely an hour after her receipt of Jerrold’s telegram.  A few officers were gathered in front of head-quarters, and there were curious looks from face to face as she was recognized.  Mr. Rollins was on the walk, giving some instructions to a sergeant of his company, and never saw her until the buggy reined up close behind him and, turning suddenly, he met her face to face as she sprang lightly to the ground.  The young fellow reddened to his eyes, and would have recoiled, but she was mistress of the situation.  She well knew she had but to command and he would obey, or, at the most, if she could no longer command she had only to implore, and he would be powerless to withstand her entreaty.

“I am glad you are here, Mr. Rollins.  You can help me.—­Sergeant, will you kindly hitch my horse at that post?—­Now,” she added, in low, hurried tone, “come with me to Mr. Jerrold’s.”

Rollins was too stupefied to answer.  Silently he placed himself by her side, and together they passed the group at the office.  Miss Beaubien nodded with something of her old archness and coquetry to the cap-raising party, but never hesitated.  Together they passed along the narrow board walk, followed by curious eyes, and as they reached the angle and stepped beneath the shelter of the piazza in front of the long, low, green-blinded Bachelors’ Row, there was sudden sensation in the group.  Mr. Jerrold appeared at the door of his quarters; Rollins halted some fifty feet away, raised his cap, and left her; and, all alone, with the eyes of Fort Sibley upon her, Nina Beaubien stepped bravely forward to meet her lover.

They saw him greet her at the door.  Some of them turned away, unwilling to look, and yet unwilling to go and not understand this new phase of the mystery.  Rollins, looking neither to right nor left, repassed them and walked off with a set, savage look on his young face, and then, as one or two still gazed, fascinated by this strange and daring proceeding, others, too, turned back and, half ashamed of themselves for such a yielding to curiosity, glanced furtively over at Jerrold’s door.