COPYRiLH"!. i896. BV F. TÍ.NNYÍ.ON NEE...

COPYRiLH"!. i896. BV F. TÍ.NNYÍ.ON NEEIV. The snow was mantling tho v.'ild vaste of barren prairie stretching tovrsecá the white peaks oí the Big Horn, Bhrouding its desolation, biding its accustomed ugliness and warning scout, Boldiei or cowboy to look well to his landmarka before venturing forth iipon its trackless sea, fer evcu the cuttle trails were hidden and the stage road lost to view. Bctweeu its banks of glistening white the Platte rolled black and swollen, for a rare thing had happeued - one so rare that old trappers and traders said they nevcr knew the like before sinoe iïrst they sighted "Lar1mie" peak or foreed the passes of tho Medicino Bow - there had been three days of softly falling snow and not a whisper of a Wyoming gale. Thero had been a thaw in the Laramie plains, preceded by a soft south wind in the park country of Colorado, and whole fleecy hillsides, said the natives, wcre "slumping off" in tho upper waters of the river. And that was how the Platte came to bc tossing high its wintry wave under the old stockade at the ferry and sweeping in power, instead of sleeping in peace, beneath its icy blanket, around the huge bluft' where waved tho colors of old Fort Frayne. The roadway winding from thcriverside up to the adjutant's office at the southern end of the garrison was still unbroken. The guard at the ferryhouse had been withdrawn, and as for the veteran stockade, solé relie of the early ] days of the overland stage route, it looked now in its silence aud desolation, lieavily capped as it was with its weight of snow, liko some huge, flattened out Charlotte do russc - at least that was what Ellis Farrar, daughter j of the post commander, likened it to j as she pecred from the north window of their cozy quarters on the crest of the bluff. "And to think of Christmas beiug almost hero and not a chance of getting a wagon througli froru tiie railway, " sho murmured, ' 'and I so longed ! toinake it brightand joyousformother! It ia always her saddest scason. ' ' These low toned words werc addressed to Captain Leale of her father's regiment, a strong, soldierly looking mau of nearly 40 years, who, with fieldglass in hand, had been studying the wintry landscape to the north and east. Ho turned as the young girl spoke, and, lowering his glasse?, followed her cyes and looked anxiously across the bright army parlor to where the flrelight from the blazing logs upon the hearth feil ■ full upon a matronly wonian whoso , luxuriant hair was alrcady tnrning gray, j and whose sweet, patiënt face L-ore the j unmistaliable trace of deep sorrow. She j was seated at a desk, an unfinished ; ter beforc her, and had pauscd in the midst of hei1 writing and dropped off into the dreamland of faraway scènes ! and memories. Erom a drawcr in the desk sho had taken wbat was evidently a porírait, a small photograph, and had been intently studying itwhile the only other occupants of the room vrero busy at tho window. "It is - you kuow - Royle's, my brother's picture," whispered Ellifl. "I know it, Ihough I haven't secn it in ever so long - fivc yearg, 1 think. ' ' Again the captain bowed, inclining his head in the slow, grave way that was habitual with him. "I know, " he said briefly, and the gaze he fixed upon his colonel's wife waa full of anxiety i and sympathy. "I have often wished that your father's promotion had brought him to any other garrison in the army. You remember he waa stationed hcre when lieutenant colonel, and it was from here that Royle went to West Point." "I remember it but vaguely. That was uine years ago, captain, and I was but 7. We saw him during his cadet furlough two years later - in 1883 - and that was the last. Molher only rarely speaks of him, and father never unless - unless," she added, with timid appeal, "ho does to you. Does he?" Captain Leale paused a moment before replying. Only that vcry morning had his colonel talked with him, the most trusted of his troop comnianders, of Ellis' long missing brother. Only within an hour had Farrarsought again his advice as to one whom he could not bring himself to nanio and referred to in shame and sorrow as "my eldest, " and only rarely as "my sou." First born of tho littlc flock, (ho boy had been givcn his father's name. The only child for several years, pettcd, spoiled, ovcrindulged by á fond, puro hearted mother, then reared aniong the isolated army garrisons of the far west, the handsome, hcadstrong, daring youth but all too carly had shown a tendeney to wild companionship and recklesa living. Few men in the cavalry arm of the service wcre held in higher esteem than Colonel Royle Farrar, who, entering the service with the first regiment to be sent to the front from New York city in the spring of 1861, had fought his way to tho command of a brigade in the lust campaign and then been commissioned as a junior major of cavalry at the reorganizatiou of the regular army. The president himself had tendered Farrar, long af terward, a cadetship í'or his son, and it was gratefully yet almost foarfully accepted. The mother could not be brought to believe her boy would not Btrivo to do honor to his name at the Point. The father dreadcd that the wayward, reckless fellow, intolerant of restraint or discipline, would merit puuishment, and, being punished, would resent. Eoyle stood the ordeal only fairly well at first. Dcmcrits in profusión and "light prison" twice had ' clouded his record bofore the furlough yoar, but the motber's eyes rejoiced in the sight of the handsome, gtalwart youug soldier after his two years of rigorocs training, even though the mothcr heart grieved over the evidences of dissipation and vice which speedily rnarred the long looked for days of his vacation. Between him and his father had been more than one stormy scène before Royle returned to the academy - interviews from which the senior issued pale, stern, sorrowful, the young man gloomy, sullen and more than half defiant. In his second class year came tidings of misderneanor that almost broko the mother's heart. Farrar hastened from the distant frontier to the banks of the Hudsonj expectmg nothing short of dismissal for the boy, and promising the mother to fetch him at once to her, but the court, even in sentencing, had signed a plea for mercy for the cadet who boro so honored a name, a plea that his classmates won ld never have indorsed, and the president remitted the punishment to a term of confinenieut to barracks and camp. The father wasted no words in reproach. He pointed out to the son that this was his last chanco. Royle, Jr., had sullenly responded that his disgrace was due entirely to spies and talebearers and showed neither contrition nor promise of amend. A year later came the last straw. Reported for a violation of regulations in having liqnor in his pessossion, Cadet Farrar wrote a lying explauation to the effect that it was placed iu his room by parties unknown to him and for the purpose of bringing him into trouble, but he had been seen "off limits" at a questionable resoit in the neighboring village the previous night, had been drinking and card playing there, had lost money and refused to pay, had been secn returning by two lower classmen, to vfhom he offered liquor, then staggered to his quarters only an hour or so before reveille roll calí. He was placed in close arrest after being confronted with the array of evidence, and that night deserted and was seen no more. Again the colonel made his mournful pilgrimage to the Point, and old comrades pityingly, sorrowfully told him the whole story. He went back to his regiment looking ten years older, took his wife and twoyoungerchildren, Will and Ellis, to his heart, and from that day never spoke again his first boni's name. It had been for years his custom to sign all official papers in full - Royle Farrar - but the very sound of the Christian name seemed from that time on to give him distress, and R. Farrar became bis signature personal or official. The young man was heard of occasionally, however, borrowiug money from officers and friends and relatives on his father's account. Then he went to sea, then returned to New York and wrote a long letter to his ruother, telling how he inourned the old days and was going to lead a new life, and she too gladly sent him all the money she had. Then there was another interval, and after a year he again appeared as a suppliant for aid. He had been desperately ill, he said, and kind but poor, [ humble people had cared for him, and they ought to be rew arded. The mother i would have sent again her last cent to him direct, but Farrar iuterposed. His check went to a trusted friend, with instructions to investigate, and that friend was his old comrade, Major Fenton, ! and, as he expected, it proved only another lie. Then there came an era of apparent prosperity, and uow the poor mother in joy besought lier lmsband to recognize the sou, for he reported himself in good employ with a fair salary and brilliant prospcets. He even sent a draf t to repay i a pmall portion of what he termod his father's loan, but this was soon followed by a draft on his father for doublé the amount, and later another, and then letters of inquiry came from his employer, and Uien rueful complaint of how' that trusting person had been swindled. In her agony of grief and disappointnient the mother's health was giving way, and Farrar concealed from her ! particnlars even worse - that their wrotchcd son had won the love of his employer's danghter and that she had followed him from her father's house. There had been a secret marriage. There was another Royle. This news had come to the colonel but a day or two before. It was this that liad nnsealed his lips and turued him to Captain Leale for counsel and support. "My danghter," wrote the bereaved father, "was the idol of my heart, the image of the mother who was taken from her long years ago. iet she turn ed from me in the passion of her love for him, and they have gone God alone knows where. If you can find him, say i that though he has robbcd me poor 'I j can forgive him all if he will but be i good and kind to her. She was ■ y nnrtured, as carefully educated as your own danghter could be, sir, and she was more to me, for she was my all. ! I own that, having married him, her duty was with her husband, but why J should she have bidden that marriage from her father? My own fortune is well nigh wrecked, but she has her mother's littlo portion - enough if he ■ can resist his craving for drink and gambling to support them in comfort. í pray you help me save my child. " All this sad history was now well known to Malcolrn Leale, and his eyes were full of sorrow as he bent Üiem upon the gentle, yearning woman at the desk, lost in her study of her firstborn's face, Ellis in turn stood watcbing him. i She was a girl of 16, yet seemed older far, because of the years in which she had been her rnother's companion and closest friend. Then, as he made no j swer to her query and seemed plunged in thonght, she turned aud stepped lightly over to the mother's side. "Day dreaming again, Queen Mother?" she askcd in the half playfnl way that was habitual with her. "If you don't go on with your letter to Will, it won 't be readyfor the courier. Captain Leale tells me they are to send one out at noon. ' ' "Will they really?" asked Mrs. Farrar, rousing suddcnly. "Why, I had given up all hopes of hearing from him this week or of getting a letter to him. Who is to go, captain? The pass must be breast deep in buow." "I think not, Mrs. Farrar. There was very littlo wind, you know, and the fall seems to have been very uniform. Corporal Borke and a couple of my men are getting ready now. The colonel was only waiting, hoping that there might be still some news from Red Cloud. " "Why, how can it come? The wires rrc clown the road hidden and the rivi ■■ unfordable, " said Ellis eagerly. "The last news was bad enough. I own I don't want to hear further. " Over Leale's face a graver shadow feil. "There are Indian riders who could casi'y mako the journcy, " he said, "Crow Knife, for instance, whom I the colonel sent over with the scouts five days ago. The fact that he hasn't returued makes me hopeful that matters are quieting down, " but here he turned again to the window to level his glass upon the broad, rolling expanse of white, stretching in wave after wave to the bleak horizon. "God forbid there should be further trouble," said Mrs. Farrar slowly, i geringly replacing the portrait in its drawei'. "Kurely the general has forcé enough there now to keep those Indiana in check, ' ' she ventured appealingly. Leale lowered his binocular again. "He has, provided the renegades captured on the Chsyenne are not sent back there. Those people should not be taken to the agency. They are Minncconjous, Uncapapas, Brules, a turbulent, ill conditioned lot, who raake trouble wherever the others are peaceably disposed. They should have been disarmed and dismouuted and put under guard at J Fort Bobinson until this questiou is settled. What I fear is that Red Wolf's band is still out and is defyiug the agent, and that the revolt will spread to Kill Eagle's village. If they go on the warpath, some of our best scouts will be involved. That boy, Crow Knife, is worth his weight in gold, but his father and mother would follow Kill Eagle." "Do you think - do you think thafc if they should revolt we - our command - would have to be ordered out?" asked Ellis anxiously. "It might be, " he replied cautiotisly, "but I am hoping that 110 winter campaign is in store for us. Think of a mareh over such a waste as that," and he pointed to the snowclad scène before them. "We couldn't cross the Platte this side of Laramie either, even if the stream were fordable. The running ice would cut the horses from under us. ' ' Out across the parade, clear, yet soft, as though muffled by the snow, the cavalry trumpet bogan soundins; orderly cali. "Rorke and his men will start as soon as they have had dinner, Mrs. Farrar, " said Leale, "and I must si-e the colonel before tbey go. I will send for your letters." He took up the glasses again for one last survey, Ellis narrowly watching him, while her mother went on with her writing. For a moment the search seemed barren of result, as before, but suddenly Leale started, : stepped nearer the window and riveted ■■ his attentioa on one spot. Ellis quickly ; uoted it. "You see some one?" she asked. A brief nod was the only answer. I ! Then, glass in hand, the captain Í ly turned to a side door, let hirnself out i into another room and thence to the ' outer gallery surrounding the house. Here his view was unobstructed. Two gentlemen were coming up the pathway from the adjutant's office, and a soldier in itnmacalate unifoi'm and side arms ! following a short distance behind cated that the one in uniform was the post coimnander, the eider one, a distinguished looking man of nearly CO, whose pointed mustache and imperial were well nigh as white as the new fallen snow about him, whose complexión, bronzed by years of exposure to prairie sun and wind, was ruddy brown, almost like Russian leather. Over Leale's face ff 11 the same shadow of anxiety that was noted when he stood gazing in silence upon the sorrowing mother at the desk within. The colonel was talking in an eaniest manner to the man at his sido, a civilian, so far as his dress would indícate, yet a civilian with the erect can-iage and brisk step of a soldier - a handscme fellow, too, of perhaps seven and twenty years. Leale turned from them with some impatience. "I'd bet a month's pay if I ever bet a cent in the world, " he muttered to himself, "that old Fenton's nephew had no thought whatcver of hunting wben he carne here in midwinter. The : tion is, What else has brought hirn besides what I havo already learned, and why does he haunt Farrar from rnorning till night?" At the window the fair, girlish face brightened an instant at sight of the coming soldier, then clouded as qnickly as the civilian came in view. "Mr. Ormsby again!" murmured Ellis below her breath, and the bow of recognition which she gave him in answer to the quick uplifting of bis sealskin cap ; ed all of the warinth and interest that ! beamed in Ormsby 's face at sight of her. Seeing Leale, the colouel pressed on to join him on the northward porch. Catching sight of Ellis, the civilian feil back, entered the gateway and came briskly to the door. An instant later and his step was heard in the hallway. Ellis turncd to the window in something not unlike aversión. The mother it was who rose eagerly to welcome the i coming gnest. "Prompt as ever, Mr. Ormsby," she cried as he entered the parlor, ireshand rosy from the keen air. "I -wish you might teach my husband to be more pnnctual at luncheon. " "Indeed I foared I was deiaining him, Mrs, Farrar. He's merely stoppcd one moment to speak with Captain Leale. He was showing me over the barracks. You have no idea how vividly interesting all this is to me. I have shouldered the musket with the Seventh for eight years and have never visited an army post bef ore. " "Oh, didn'fc yon see your uncle when he was at Rilcy? He used to write to my husband of yon time and again and of yonr pride in your regiment. " "No, hewas in New York on recruiting sen-ice then, a few years ago, you remember, and we used to get him np to the armory or to our camp occasionally." "And he was very, very kind to my poor boy. my Roy le, " said Mrs. Farrar wistfully, Kearching the face of her guest, "and when you came to us with letters from our old friend, for we had known him bef ore our marriage, " she continued, a faint color rising to her cheek, "it seemed almost like wclcoming him. There was nothing too good for Major Fenton that our home affordcd after all he tricd to do, at least for - him." The sigh with which she spoke seemed to well up from the depths of the mother's heart. Ellis, with light footsteps, had left the room to greet her father on the piazza without, and for the flrst time since his coming, three days previous, jnst in time to be hemmed in and held at Frayne by the great snowfall, Mrs. Farrar was alone with her guest. "There is something I have longed to ask you, Mr. Ormsby," she went on, "something I must ask you, for a mother's intuition is keen, and I feel sure you havo seen or known my poor boy in the past. Have you heard - do you know anytbing of him now?" "Mrs. Farrar, I give you my word I have not the faintest idea of his whereabouts. " "Forgive me if I am intrusivo, importunate, " she persisted. "But - Major Fenton - he was Major Fenton then, you kdow, and I think of him with the title he bore when he was so good - so friendly - when my uuhappy boy most needed friends. You were with your uncle often then. Did you not meet - did you not know my Royle?" Ormsby 's honest cyes betrayed the, deep embarrassment under whioh he labored, and she, watching every sign with painful intensity, read the truth, despite his faltering reply. "Once or twice, Mrs. Farrar, but Ij knew him only very slightly. " "Teil me still more, Mr. Ormsby. Yon have been most considérate to me. You have sought to spare me, but in my husband's sad face aud abstracted ! marnier I have read the truth. He has i heard news - worse news of Royle - and so you have been the bearer. Is it not ! so?" But Ormsby pulled himself together, this time at least like a man, and braved her. "I assuro you it is not so, Mrs. Farrar. From me at least the colonel has heard nothing new - nothing worse. I beg you to dismiss the thought. ' ' But he did net sny that he had come prepared to teil, ave, instructed totell, of crowning disgrace - come with the written proposition of his employers to relinqnish parsnit of Royle Farrar provided the father would rcake good the sum they had lost through the son 's forgery. "God bless yon, Mr. Ormsby, for the load yon have lif ted from my heart, ' ' she cried. "Ever since you came I have dreaded more and more eacli day that you wcre the bearer of evil tidings of him who has almost broken his father's heart and yet cannot, must not, shall lint be bevond redemptinn if a mother's love and prayers are of any avail. Even Ellis has seemed to share my dread. I have read it in her manner, as perhaps you have too. She did not mean to be ! uukind, inhospitable to our guest, but that sorrow has overshadowed us all. Even my bright, brave Will, who is all a boy can do to rcdeem the name . at the Point - even Wil!, I say, is sometimes confronted by the record that his erring brother left." The teurs were starting from her eyes ; now, and in uncontrollable emotion she turned away. Then carne a loud rap at the front door, and a servant hastened to open it. A loud, cheery Irish voice resounded through the hallway ;ui instant later. "Corporal Rorke to report to the colonel for dispatches, " and, : glaucing thither, Ormsby saw a stout trooper, with broad, jovial, ruddy face, his burly form elad in winter service dress. Mrs. Farrar, striving to hide and to check her tears, had turucd into the diuing room. Ormsby stepped to the north window and glauced out upon the little group upon the porch, Ellis half shiveringly clinging to her father's arm, ho ititently eying Leale - Leale, with leveled glasses, steadily at gaze at some dim, black object far, far aerosg the tur bid Platte, far out to the eastward, across those snowcapped slopes. "Can you uiake out what's coniing, ; Leale?" "I think so, colonel. " "What is it?" Leale slowly lowered the glass, and. never turning, answered in low but j tivc tone: "Our marching orders - for the agency. Red Wolf escaped. Kill Eagle's : whole village has jumped íor the Bad Lands. " And that ineant that the Twelfth must drop its Christmasing and i'etch the wanderers home. OHAPTER II. "Hushl Silonce there!" for dimly j Been throngh the drifts Coloncl Pairar, with bis little party of attendants, carne riding to the front of the line. Leng, long afterward they remembered that cle;ir cut, soldierly, high brcd face, with its aquiline nose, been, kindly, j deep set cyes, the gray white mnstache, i snow white now, as was his close j ped hair. "Men," said he in the firra tones tho.y had known so long and w 11, "fully half tho band are some niiles away, but Kill Eaglo, with over 100 warriors, is right here in our front; so, ! too, are his wotnen and children ; so, too, worse luck, are some of our own unhappy captives. You all know the first thing these Indiaus would do, were we to attack as usual, would be to der those poor white woruen. Thissnowstorm is in our favor. "We can creep ! right in upon them before we charge. The ponies are down in tho valley, to the south. Let the first line dash straight through the village and starepede the berd, then rally and creturn. Let the second follow at 100 yards and surround the tepees at the eastward end. What white women are %vith them are there. The Indian men, as a rule, will niake a dash in the direction of the ponies. Shoot them down wherever you can, but mark my words now, be careful of the women and children. 1 had intended summoning Kill Eagle to surrender, but we did not begin to know he had so many warriors close at hand and did not know about the captives. Bat has seen, and that isenough. There is no other way to settle it. It's the ene chance of rescuing those poor creatures. Now, keep together. Watch your officers' commands and signáis, and spare the squaws and papooses. Be ready in two minutes." And then every man took a long breath, while the colonel rode through to say similar words to the second line. Then, returning, he placed himself just in the rear of the center of the first squadron, the second line noiselessly advancing and closing up on the leaders, and then he seemed to think of another point. "Ask Mr. Ormsby if he will rido ; with me," said ho to the aöjutant. I "Now, Leale, forward r.t a walk. Follow Bat. It's all level ahead of you. i You'll sight the village in three or four minutes." The tall, stalwart captain touched his ', hat. took off his "broad brim," shaking i away a load of snow, and spurred out a little to the front. Thei-e, looking back to both his right and left, he gave the signal "Forwardl" and with ahtiost a single impulse tho long, dark rank of horsemen, open at the center in an iui terval of some half a dozen yards, with out othcr sound than the slight rattle of accouterments and the mufiled rumble i of 500 hoofs, moved steadily forward. i j A moment the colonel sat and watched thern, smiled a cordial greetingto Ormsby, who, pisrol in hand, came trotting j over with the adjutant ; then, signaling to the second line, he, too, gave his horse the rein, and at a steudy walk followed closo to the center of Lealo's coinmand. In his hand at the moment . he held a litllo pocket compasa and j ; smiled as ho noted the line of direction. "Almost duo southeast at this ini stant," said he. "We ought to bag onr ! game and bc well across the Mini Pusa with them in less than an hour. " Unconscionsly the pace was quickening. Foremost of all, well out in front ' of the center, rode the half breed Indian guide, bending low over his pony's neck, his black, bcady eycs peering ahead. Well out to the right and left wero other scouts, eager and alert, like Bat himself. Then, squarcly in the center, on his big, powerful bay, rode Leale, commander of tho foremost line, ! and Ormsby's soldierly heart throbbed ! with admira! ion as he marked, just j fore Leale was bidden from view, his spirited, confident bearing and noted howthe cyes of all tho line seemed fixed on their gallan t leader. And now some . of tho horses begau to dance and tug at the bit and plunge, and others to take a jog trot, for the Indian scouts were at the lope, and their gesticulations became every moment more vehement, and then Bat was seen, though visible ouly to the first line, to grab his revolver, and Leale's gauntleted hand almost iustantly songht the holster, and out came the ready colt, its niuzzle raised in air. Out, in quick and ready imitation, leaped 100 more, and iustinctively the jog changed to a lively trot, and the ! dull, thudding hoofs upon the snow runffled earth rose louder and more insistent, and Ormsby, riding at the eolonel's left, gripped tighter his revolver ; and set his teeth, yet feit his beart was hammering loud, and then dimmer and dimmer grew the first line as it led away, and still the colonel's firm hand kept Roderick dancing impatiently at the slower gait, and then, just as it : seemed as though the line would be swallowed up in snow and disappear froru view, quick and sudden two muffled shots were heard from somewhere just in front, the first syllable perhaps of some stentorian shout of warning, ' and thenonemagnificent burst of cheers and a rush of charging men and a crash and a crackle and sputter of shots, and then fierce rallying cries and piercing i sereams of women and of terrified little ones, and, like some huge humas wave, the first line of the Twelfth rode on and over and through the startled camp and bore liko a wbirlwiud, yelling, down upon the pony herds beyond. And now comes the turn of the second line. Seeking shelter froru the Bnowstorm, warriora, women and children were for the most part within the topees as the line crp.shed in. Soine few were with the miserable captivos, but at the first sound of danger every warrior had seized his rifle and nished for the open air. Some few, throwing themselves upon their faces, flred wild 'shots at the foremost troopers as they carne bonnding throngh, but as a rule only a few opposed their passage, so sudden was the shock. Then came the rcalization that the herds were bcing driven, and that not an instant must be lost iu mounting such ponies as were still tethcred aboufc the villages, and darting away in a wide circle - away f rom the troops - yefc concentrating again beyond them and regaining the lead. And so, where the first line met an appareutly sleeping village, the secoud comes cheering, charging, firing, thundering through a swarming mob of yelling braves and screaming sqnaws. Fan-ar, foremost in the charge, with. the civilian gtiardsman close at his side, shouts warning to the women, even as he empties his pistol at the bowling men. Close at his back come Amory and his sorrel troop, cheering like mad, battering over Indiaas too slow to jump asido and driving their hissing lead at every warrior in their patb. And still the colonel shouts, "This ■way!" and Ormsby, Amory and the adjutant ride at his heels, and the sorrels especially follow his lead, and, dashing through a labyrinth of lodges, they rein np cheering aboiit two grimy tepees, at whicb. Bat is excitedly pointing and the ranchmen both are shouting the names of; loved relatives and listening cagerlyfor answer, and thrilling voices within are crying, "Here! Here!" and stalwarfc men, swinging from saddle, are rnshing in, pistol in hand, and tearing aside the flimsy barriers that hide the resened captivos from the eyes of their deliverers, and the other troop, re-enforced again by strong squads from Leale'a rallied line, are dashing to and fro j throïigh the villagc, firing at the Indiaiis who are scurrying away. Just as Amoryand the adjutant charge at a little knot of scowling redskins, whose rifles are blaziug at them not a dozen yards distance, just as the good old colouel, afoot now, is clnsping the hand of some poor woman whose ]ast hope ■was gone but a moment before and even while listening toherfrantio blessings fincis time to shont again to his I half rnaddened men: "Don't hurt the women, lads. Look out for the children!" a haglike, blanketed fury of a Brule squaw springs from bahind the shelter of a pile of robes, levéis her revolver, and, pulling trigger at the instant, leaps screaining down into the creek bottom, leaving Farrar sinking elowly into the snow. An hour later, with strong skirmish lines out on every side of the captnred village, with a score of Indian warriors sent to their last account and the others scattered over the face of the earth, the little battalion of the Twelfth is wondering if, after all, the light were wortli winning, for here in their midst, his head on Leale's arm, his fading sight fixed on the tear dimmed cyes of his faithful comrade, here lies thair beloved old colonel, his last messages murmured in that listening ear : "Leale - old friend - find - find that poor girl - niy - my son robbed and ruined and deserted - and be the friend to her - you've been to me - and mine. God bless" - And this - while the regiment, obeying its stern duty, gocs ou in pnrsnit - this is the news Jack Ormsby has to break to the loving, breakiug hearts at Frayne. [TO BE CONTINUED.]