Arizona republican., 1898-03-01
From Yesterday.)

feet to cOurt-maTtlal, described him. The adjutant had to admit that Mer- riam had been closeted with the K. O. nearly half an hour. and had looked black and blue both. but no blacker no bluer, when he came out than when he went in. No, he did not think that any body else had complained of Merriam's owing him money. He did not think any body had had a word to say against him. The old man had simply sent for the ad- jutant right after the interview and re- marked: ''Mr. Blossom, you can tell MT. Harrison he may submit that appli cation for leave and I'll forward it ap- proved. MT. Merriam has my consent to take that escort in his stead" But hadn't he told anybody? Didn't any body know? ?were the very natural ques- tions asked. No. Merriam's one inti mate and chum in his regiment was Bill Whitaker, and Bill was away up at Santa Fe at the time, witness before general court-martial. Merriam was frequent visitor at the Haynes quar- ters, and everybody knew that in his own regiment he had TO warmer friends than Capt. and Mrs. Lawrence Hayne, --of the Killers. and Merriam had had long talk with Hayne before calling on the colonel. But no one who knew either Hayne or his charming wife ever thought of trying to extract from them information as to other peoples person al affairs. Old Buxton, the dragocn-of- the-old-army-sort of Lieutenant colo nel, did try to pump the captain but was most coolly and civilly snubbec for his pains. Buxton was a man Hayne never spoke to except in the most formal way There had been some trouble between them ever so long ago. when Hayne was a young second lieu tenant and ''BuX" the senior captain of the -th cavalry. The softening touch of time had effaced much of the bitter ness of that old. old story. HaJne had twice been stationed at the same garri-. son with Buxton. and found it awkward to preserve the rule of nonintercourse with field officer who was frequently in command, so he spoke respectfully and courteously to his senior whenever they met but the courtesy was as cold and the meetings as rare as lie could make them. Bux, however, 'bore no malice." as he said, and was quite ready
 
 for what had transpired in the past, but then Buxton, not Hayne, had been the offender. Indeed. Buxton was a pachy- derm on whom snubs had little effect. He believed Hayne knew why Merriam had asked for his most undesirable de- .ail. and so importuned him with eager inquiry-all to no purpose. Harrison blissfully vert on to Chicago and Mer- rian out to the Mescalero, ard was no more heard of CT from for several weeks Then the news came that he was se- riously i'll with mountain fever at the cantonment on Catamount creek, and Bill Whitaker was hurried thither to take over the command.
 In a week there came q letter from him to Capt. Hayne, and this was what it said:
 'I found the dear old boy conval- escing, but woefully limp and weak. Tremaine says he was wild as loon when the men brought him in. They saw that he was burning with fever for days, and begged him to go to the can tonment for medical attention, but he bade them mind their own business and obstinately stuck to the work. The gentlemen of the survey soon saw that he was going flighty and. later, dc.iri- ous, and they took the responsibility of telling the sergeant he must be sent thither. They made a fore-and-aft lit ter by flashing saplings together, hitched on couple of pack-mules, roped Ran dy inside the thing. and made four day march of it. Luckily, Tremaine had a capital medical officer and Randy splendid constitution. The fever had a big start. but Gr. Wells and Ire maine's people were utterly devoted to him, and pulled him through. but you never saw such a living skeleton. Dr. Wells says he will mend rapidly now, as he eats about six square meals day and is hungry between times. Mrs. Tremaine nursed him like a mother. Heaven bless her! and now Miss Florence reads to him by the hour.''
 And at this point in Whittaker's in- nocent missive. Mrs. Hayne, who was clinging to her husbands arm and reading with him. suddenly looked up in his face and said: "Oh, Lawrence! wouldn't that bezalmost ideal?"
 ''FIoy" Tremaine. as she was called in the regiment, was an only child, born and reared in the Rifiers. Two years of her life had been spent in the east al school, but with that exception it had known no companionship or association outside the garrison that was the tenn porary home of her fathers company An open-air, joyous, healthful life ii aIp l,1 Tt digestion, yet destructive to complex ion, for at Is Floy Tremaine was a: brown as a Navajo, when they tool her to St. Anne's to school, where sht was promptly dubbed "the Squaw.' The first six months there, despite th' fact that her mother was near al Hand, took a good deal of heart out o. Florence and some of the prairie tar