he said swiftly, "how about that fellow who came in with despatches from Union just before dark? He looked like a real man."
"I did n't see him. I was down river with the wood-cutters all day."
Travers got up and paced the floor.
"I remember now. What do you say? Let's have him in, anyhow. They never would have trusted him for that ride if he had n't been the right sort." He strode over to the door, without waiting an answer. "Here, Carter," he called, "do you know where that cavalryman is who rode in from Fort Union this afternoon?"
A face appeared in the glow of light, and a gloved hand rose to salute.
"He's asleep in 'B's' shack, sir," the orderly replied. "Said he 'd been on the trail two nights and a day."
"Reckon he had, and some riding at that. Rout him out, will you; tell him the Major wants to see him here at once."
The man wheeled as if on a pivot, and disappeared.
"If Carter could only ride," began McDonald, but Travers interrupted impatiently.
"If! But we all know he can't. Worst I ever saw, must have originally been a sailor." He slowly refilled his pipe. "Now, see here, Dan, it's your daughter that's to be looked after, and therefore I want you to size this man up for yourself. I don't pretend to know anything about him, only he looks like a soldier, and they must think well of him at Union."
McDonald nodded, but without enthusiasm; then dropped his head into his hands. In the silence a coyote howled mournfully not far away; then a shadow appeared on the log step, the light of the candle flashing on a row of buttons.
"This is the man, sir," said the orderly, and stood aside to permit the other to enter.
CHAPTER II
"BRICK" HAMLIN
The two officers looked up with some eagerness, McDonald straightening in his chair, and returning the cavalryman's salute instinctively, his eyes expressing surprise. He was a straight-limbed fellow, slenderly built, and appearing taller than he really was by reason of his erect, soldierly carriage; thin of waist, broad of chest, dressed in rough service uniform, without jacket, just as he had rolled out of the saddle, rough shirt open at the throat, patched, discolored trousers, with broad yellow stripe down the seam, stuck into service riding boots, a revolver dangling at his left hip, and a soft hat, faded sadly, crushed in one hand.
The Major saw all this, yet it was at the man's uncovered face he gazed most intently. He looked upon a countenance browned by sun and alkali, intelligent, sober, heavily browed, with eyes of dark gray rather deeply set; firm lips, a chin somewhat prominent, and a broad forehead, the light colored hair above closely trimmed; the cheeks were darkened by two days' growth of beard. McDonald unclosed, then clenched his hand.
"You are from Fort Union, Captain Travers tells me?"
"Yes, sir," the reply slow, deliberate, as though the speaker had no desire to waste words. "I brought despatches; they were delivered to Captain Travers."
"Yes, I know; but I may require you for other service. What were your orders?"
"To return at convenience."
"Good. I know Hawley, and do not think he would object. What is your regiment?"
"Seventh Cavalry."
"Oh, yes, just organized; before that?"
"The Third."
"I see you are a non-com—corporal?"
"Sergeant, sir, since my transfer."
"Second enlistment?"
"No, first in the regulars—the Seventh was picked from other commands."
"I understand. You say first in the regulars. Does that mean you saw volunteer service?"
"Three years, sir."
"Ah!" his eyes brightening instantly. "Then how does it happen you failed to try for a commission after the war? You appear to be intelligent, educated?"
The Sergeant smiled.
"Unfortunately my previous service had been performed in the wrong uniform, sir," he said quietly. "I was in a Texas regiment."
There was a moment's silence, during which Travers smoked, and the Major seemed to hesitate. Finally the latter asked:
"What is your name, Sergeant?"
"Hamlin, sir."
The pipe came out of Travers' mouth, and he half arose to his feet.
"By all the gods!" he exclaimed. "That's it! Now I 've got you placed—you 're—you 're 'Brick' Hamlin!"
The man unconsciously put one hand to his hair, his eyes laughing.
"Some of the boys call me that—yes," he confessed apologetically.
Travers was on his feet now, gesticulating with his pipe.
"Damn! I knew I'd seen your face somewhere. It was two years ago at Washita. Say, Dan, this is the right man for you; better than any fledgling West Pointer. Why, he is the same lad who brought in Dugan—you heard about that!"
The Major shook his head.
"No! Oh, of course not. Nothing that goes on out here ever drifts east of the Missouri. Lord! We might as well be serving in a foreign country. Well, listen: I was at Washita then, and had the story first-hand. Dugan was a Lieutenant in 'D' Troop, out with his first independent command scouting along the Canadian. He knew as much about Indians as a cow does of music. One morning the young idiot left camp with only one trooper along—Hamlin here—and he was a 'rookie,' to follow up what looked like a fresh trail. Two hours later they rode slap into a war party, and the fracas was on. Dugan got a ball through the body at the first fire that paralyzed him. He was conscious, but could n't move. The rest was up to Hamlin. You ought to have heard Dugan tell it when he got so he could speak. Hamlin dragged the boy down into a buffalo wallow, shot both horses, and got behind them. It was all done in the jerk of a lamb's tall. They had two Henry rifles, and the 'rookie' kept them both hot. He got some of the bucks, too, but of course, we never knew how many. There were twenty in the party, and they charged twice, riding their ponies almost to the edge of the wallow, but Hamlin had fourteen shots without reloading, and they could n't quite make it. Dugan said there were nine dead ponies within a radius of thirty feet. Anyhow it was five hours before 'D' troop came up, and that's what they found when they got there—Dugan laid out, as good as dead, and Hamlin shot twice, and only ten cartridges left. Hell," he added disgustedly, "and you never even heard of it east of the Missouri."
There was a flush of color on the Sergeant's
