Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-05-09
CHAPTER III.
Under Orders.

Many an unexpected event has resulted
from the formal, concise orders issued by
the War Department. Cupid in the dis
guise Of Mars has thus frequently toyed
with the fate of men, sending many a gal
liant soldier forward, all unsuspecting, into
a battle of the heart
1t was no pleasant assignment to duty
which greeted First Lieut.. Donald Brant,
commanding Troop N, 7th Cavalry, when
| that regiment came once more within the
environS OF civilization. from it's summer
exercises in the field. Bethune had devel-
oped into a somewhat important post, So
cially as we'll as from a strictly military
| standpoint. and numerous indeed were the
attractions offered there to any young Off
Ger whose duty called him to serve the col
ors on those bleak Dakota prairies 'Brant
frowned at the innocent words, reading
them over again with gloomy eyes and an
! exclamation Of unmitigated disgust, yet
there was no escaping their plain meaning.
Trouble was undoubtedly brewing among
the Sioux, trouble in which the Cheyennes,
and probably others also, were becoming
| involved Every soldier patrolling that long
| northern border recognized the approach
| of some dire development some early coup
| Of savagery. Restlessness pervaded the
Indian country: recalcitrant bands roamed
| the bad lands dissatisfied young war
| riors disappeared from the reservation lin
| Its and failed to return; while friendly
scouts told strange tales Of weird dances
amid the brown Dakota hills. Uneasiness,
| the spirit Of suspected peril. hung like a pail
over the plains: yet none could safely pre-
| dict where the blow might first descend.
Brant was not blind to all this, nor to the
| necessity Of having In readiness selected
! bodies Of seasoned troops, yet, 1T was not in
| soldier nature to refrain from grumbling
| when the earliest detail CHANGED to fall to
! him. But orders were orders in that coun-
| try, and although he crushed the innocent
paper passionately beneath his heel, five
hours later he was in saddle. riding steadily
| westward. his depleted troop of horsemen
| gathering at his heels. Up the valley OF
| the Bear Water, slightly above Glencaid-
| far enough beyond the saloon radius to pro-
| tect his men from possible corruption, yet
| within easy reach Of the military telegraph
they made camp in the early morning
upon a wooded terrace overlooking the
| stage road, and settled quietly down as one
| Of those numerous posts with which the
| army chiefs sought to hem in the dissatis-
| fed redmen, and learn early the extent of
! their hostile plans.
Brant was now in a humor considerably
| happier than when he first rode forth from
| Bethune. natural soldier, sincerely am
| bilious in his profession, anything approxi-
| mating to active service instantly aroused
| his Interest. while his mind was ever in
| clined to respond with enthusiasm to the
| fascination of the plains and the hills across
| which their march had extended. Some
F.! where along that journey he had dropped
| his earlier burden of regret, and the spirit
| of the service had left him cheerfully hope
| full Of some stern soldierly work. He
| watched the men Of his troop while with
| quip and song they made comfortable camp;
! he spoke few brief words Of instruction to
| the grave-faced first sergeant, and then
| strolled slowly up the valley, his own af-
fairs soon completely forgotten in the
| beauty of nearby hills beneath the golden
glory OF the morning sun; Once he paused
and looked back upon ugly Glencaid, dingy
| and forlorn even at that distance; then he
crossed the narrow stream by means of a
| convenient log and clambered up the some
l frfr,-
bushes chung close along the edge Of the
| summit but a plainly defined path led
| among their intricacies. He pressed his
way through, coming into a glade where
! sunshine fiickered through the overarching
| branches Of great trees, and the grass was
green and short, like that of a well-kept
| lawn.
[ AS Brant emerged from the underbrush
! he suddenly beheld fair vision of young
| womanhood resting on the grassy bank just
before him. She was partially reclining,
II startled by his unannounced approach,
her face turned toward him. one hand
| grasping an open book, the other shading
| her eyes from the glare of the sun. Some
| thing In the graceful poise, the piquant, up
| lifted face, the dark gloss, Of heavy hair,
and the unfrightened gaze held him speech
| less until the picture had been impressed
forever upon his memory. He beheld
| girl on the verge of womanhood, fair of
| skin, the red glow of health flushing her
| cheeks, the lips parted in surprise, the
sleeve fallen back from one white, rounded
| arm. the eyes honest, sincere, mysterious.
| She recognized him with glance, and her
| lips closed as she remembered how and
when they had met before. But there was
| no answering recollection within his eyes,
| only admira tion-nothing chung about this
naiad to remind him of a neglected waif of
| the garrison. She read all this in his face,
and the lines about her mouth changed
| quickly into a slightly quizzical SMILE her
| eyes Frightening.
you should at least haye knocked, SIR"
she ventured, sitting up on the grassy bank,
the better to confront him, before intrud-
| ing thus unlimited"
| He lifted his somewhat dingy scouting hat
and bowed humbly.
= perceived no door giving warning that