It was after dark when “M” troop, wearied by their long day’s march across the brown grass, rode slowly up the face of the bluff, and into the parade ground at Fort Dodge.  The lights of the guard-house revealed the troopers’ faces, while all about them gleamed the yellow lamps, as the garrison came forth to welcome their arrival.  Guided by a corporal of the guard the men led their horses to the stables, and, as they passed the row of officers’ houses Hamlin caught a furtive glimpse in a radius of light that gave his pulses a sudden throb.  She was here then—­here!  He had hardly dared hope for this.  They would meet again; that could scarcely be avoided in such narrow quarters.  But how?  On what terms?  He ventured the one swift glimpse at her—­a slender, white-robed figure, one among a group of both men and women before an open door, through which the light streamed—­heard her ask, “Who are they?  What cavalry troop is that?” caught the response in a man’s voice, “‘M’ of the Seventh, from Fort Union,” and then passed by, his eyes looking straight ahead, his hand gripping his horse’s bit.

Thirty minutes later in the great barn-like barracks, he hung his accoutrements over the bed assigned him in the far corner, and, revolver belt still buckled about his waist, stood at the open window, striving to determine which of those winking lights shone from the house where he had seen her.  There had been something in the eagerness of her voice which he could not forget, nor escape from.  She had seemed to care, to feel an interest deeper than mere curiosity.  The Sergeant’s heart beat rapidly, even while he sternly told himself he was a fool.  A hand touched his shoulder, and he wheeled about to grip Wasson’s hand.

“Well, ‘Brick,’ old boy,” said the scout genially, although his thin face was as solemn as ever; “so you fellows have come back to be in the shindy?”

“We ’ve been in it all summer, Sam,” was the reply.  “It’s been lively enough south of the Cimarron, the Lord knows.  I ’ve been riding patrol for months now.  But what’s up?  No one seems to know why we were ordered in.”

“It’s all guess-work here,” and Wasson sat down on the narrow bed and lit his pipe.  “But the ‘old man’ is getting something under way, consolidating troops.  Your regiment is going to be used, that’s certain.  I ‘ve been carryin’ orders between here an’ Wallace for three weeks now, an’ I ’ve heard Sheridan explode once or twice.  He ’s tired of this guerilla business, an’ wants to have one good fight.”

“It is getting late.”

“That’s the way he figures it out, accordin’ to my notion.  We ’ve always let those fellows alone during the bad weather, an’ they ’ve got so they expect it.  The ‘old man’ figures he ’ll give ’em a surprise.”

“A winter campaign?”

“Why not?  We can stand it if they can.  O’ course, I ‘m just guessin’; there ’s no leak at headquarters.  But Custer ’s up there,” with a wave of the hand to the north, “and they ’ve got the maps out.”