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shanty the infection had spread throughout the entire community, and--women and children alike--the whole populace was weeping, wailing, and gnashing its teeth,--and no one knew or cared to know exactly why.

Having been wrought up to a pitch of excitement by the rumors and rapid moves of the past forty-eight hours, nothing short of a massacre could now quite satisfy Sudstown's lust for the sensational, and,

defrauded of the actual cause for universal bewailing, was none the less determined to indulge in the full effect. Poor Hatton had more than half an hour of stubborn and troublesome work before he could

begin to quell the racket in the crowded tenements, and meantime there was mischief to pay in the fort. No sooner did the Irish wail come floating on the wind than the direst rumors were rushed from house to

house. The courier had barely had time to hand his despatches to Major Miller, and the major had not had time to read them, when a messenger came post-haste for Dr. Bayard, and stood trembling and breathless

at his door while the punctilious old major-domo went to call his master. Holmes was reading at the moment in the doctor's library, and, at the sound of excited voices and scurrying footfalls without, came

forward into the hall just as the door of Nellie's room was heard to open. Glancing up, he caught sight of her at the head of the stairs,--her hair dishevelled and rippling down over her shoulders and nearly

covering the dainty wrapper she wore.

"Mr. Holmes! please see what has happened?" she cried, with wild anxiety in her eyes. "I hear such dreadful noise, and see men running down toward the laundresses'

quarters."

But there was no need for him to ask. The messenger at the door was only too eager.

"Oh, Miss Nellie!" she called, sobbing, half in eagerness, half in genuine distress. "There's such dreadful

news! There's a man come in from Captain Terry's troop, and they've had a terrible fight, and Mr. McLean an' lots of 'em are killed. It's all true, just as we heard it this----"

But here Mr. Holmes slammed

the door in the foolish creature's face and went tearing up the stairs, four at a bound, for, clasping the balusters with both her little hands in a grasp that seemed loosening every second, Nellie Bayard

was sinking almost senseless to the floor. Chloe, too, came running to her aid, and, between them, they bore her to the sofa in her pretty room, and then the doctor reached them, almost rejoicing to find her

in tears, instead of the dead faint he dreaded.

"How could I have been so mad as to bring her to such a pandemonium as this?" was his exclamation to Holmes as, a moment later, they hastened forth upon the

parade. "Yes," he hastily answered, as a little boy came running tearfully to him, to say that mamma was taken very ill and they didn't know what to do for her. "Yes. So are all the women in garrison, I

doubt not; though they're all scared for nothing, I'll bet a dinner. Tell mamma I'll be there just as soon as I've seen Major Miller. Here he comes now."

The major, with his adjutant, and followed by his

orderly, was coming rapidly into the quadrangle as he spoke, and the two gentlemen hastened forward to meet him. From half a dozen houses women or children were rushing to question the commanding officer

with wild, imploring eyes and faltering tongues. He waved his hands and arms in energetic gyrations and warned them away.

"Go back! Go back! You distracted geese!" he called. "It's all a lie! There's

hardly been a brush worth mentioning. Terry and his men are all safe. Now, do stop your nonsense! But come with me, doctor," he quickly added, in a lower tone. "Come, Mr. Holmes. I want you both to hear

this. It's so like Terry. D---- those outrageous Bridgets down there! Did you ever hear anything like the row they raised? And all for nothing."

"Has there been no fight at all?" asked Dr. Bayard.

"Yes,

--a pretty lively one, too. McLean is shot and otherwise hurt, but can't be dangerously so, for he wanted to go on in the pursuit. Three horses killed and two troopers wounded; that's about the size of it,

but there's more to come. Doctor, I want two ambulances to go down at once; and will send half a dozen men as guard. They can ride in them. We have no more available troopers. Will you go or send your

assistant? You cannot get there much before ten or eleven o'clock, even if you trot all the way. Better let Dr. Weeks go, don't you think so?"

"Whichever you prefer, major. Weeks has been devoting himself

to Blunt, though of course I could relieve him there. When could we get back?"

"Not before noon to-morrow. The wounded are 'way down at Royal's Ford, where Terry had left them with two or three men, and

pushed on after the Indians with the rest. They tricked him, I fancy, and he isn't in good humor."

By this time the quartet had entered the office, and there, handing the despatch to his adjutant, and

bidding the orderly close the door, the major seated himself at his desk; invited the others to draw up their chairs; produced a map of the Platte country and the trails to the Sioux Reservation over along

the White River, and bade the adjutant read aloud. This the young officer proceeded to do:

"ON THE TRAIL, NEAR NIOBRARA, 10.30 A.M.

"POST ADJUTANT, FORT LARAMIE:

"SIR,--Reaching Royal's Ford before

daybreak, we posted lookouts and headed off the Indians, who appeared at dawn. In the fight Lieutenant McLean, Sergeant Pierce, and Trooper Murray were wounded; two Indians killed and left on the field;

others wounded, but carried off. After skirmishing some time at long range, they drew off, and were next seen far down the Platte below the ford. I started at once in pursuit, but had gone only four miles

when we discovered it was only a small band, and that the main body, with considerable plunder, had got down to and were crossing the ford. This led us to hasten back, and we have kept up hot pursuit to this

point. Now, however, the horses are exhausted, and we have not even gained upon their fresh ponies, although they were forced to abandon a good many horses they were driving away. As soon as our horses and

men are rested, I will start on return via the north bank. Please send ambulance, etc., for the wounded.

"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"GEORGE F. TERRY,

"Captain Commanding."

To this

military and matter-of-fact correspondence the auditors listened in silence.

"Not much about that to stir up such a bobbery!" said the major, presently.

"How did you hear about McLean's wanting to join

the pursuit?" inquired Mr. Holmes. "Captain Terry seems to make rather slight mention of him and the other wounded. I know enough of Indian-fighting to feel sure there must have been some sharp work when

they leave two dead on the field."

"So do I," answered the major, "and that is why I inquired of old Zook for particulars. He is the last man in the ranks to be exaggerative or sensational, and as for his

captain,--well, this despatch is simply characteristic of Terry. He has a horror of anything 'spread-eagle,' as he calls it, and will never praise officers or men; says that it must be considered as a matter

of course that they behaved well and did their duty. Otherwise he would be sure to prefer charges. Now, Dr. Bayard, if you will kindly send for Dr. Weeks I will give him his instructions, and, meantime, will

you make such preparations as may be necessary?"

This the "Chesterfield of the Medical Department" could not but understand as a hint to be off, and he promptly arose and signified his readiness to carry

out any wishes the commanding officer might have. Holmes, too, arose and started for the door with his host and entertainer, and, though the major called him back and asked if he would not remain, he

promptly refused, saying that he greatly wished to accompany the doctor and see the preparations made in such cases.

But he tarried only a few moments with Bayard at the hospital, and when the doctor

strove to detain him he begged to be excused a little while. There was a matter, he said, he wanted to look into before those ambulances started. The post surgeon gazed after him in some wonderment as the

Chicagoan strode away, and tried to conjecture what could be taking him back to the house at this moment. Nellie was not to be seen, and he knew of no other attraction.

But Mr. Holmes had no idea of going

to the surgeon's quarters. Over near the block-house he saw Mr. Hatton with his little party returning from their inglorious mission to Sudstown,--the lieutenant disgustedly climbing the slope, while a brace

of his assistants, the guards, were chuckling and chatting in a low tone together, evidently extracting more amusement from their recent duty than did the officer of the day. Joining Hatton and allaying his

anxiety by telling him the particulars of Captain Terry's despatch,--supplemented by the information that McLean's injuries were not considered serious,--Mr. Holmes asked permission to send one of the men in

quest of Zook, with whom he desired very much to speak.

"He has gone to the stable, sir, to take care of his horse," said a corporal of the guard.

"If you are in a hurry to see him, Mr. Holmes, perhaps

the best way would be to go to the troop stables. Yonder they are, down that slope to the north. He must attend to his horse,--groom and care for him before he can leave; and then, I fancy, he will be mighty

glad of something to eat. I'll send for him if you wish, and tell him to come as soon as he's through his duties. Where will you have him call,--at the doctor's?"

"No, I believe not. If it is all the same

to you, would you mind my seeing him at your quarters? I am greatly interested in this scout and fight, and want to get his story of the affair. Terry doesn't tell anything but the baldest outline."

"Certainly, Mr. Holmes. My room,--that is, McLean's, be it. The door is open, and I'll be out of your way by that time. I'm going at once to ask the adjutant to take my sword, and get the major to let me go

down for Mac."

"The ambulance is being put in readiness now. I'll go with you to Major Miller's. What time can I best see the corporal?"

"Right after retreat roll-call, just after sunset, I should say.

He would like time to spruce up a bit and get supper."

"Then say nine o'clock. I must not leave my host alone at the dinner-table, and I fear Miss Bayard will not be down."

"Is Miss Bayard ill?" asked

Mr. Hatton.

"Hardly that! She was greatly overcome by the shock of hearing this news as it was told her. Some idiot of a servant came rushing in, and said a courier was back from Captain Terry's command

and that Mr. McLean was killed."

"And she swooned or fainted?" asked Hatton, with evident interest.

"Very nearly," answered Mr. Holmes, with grave face and eyes that never flinched. "I think she would

have fallen down the stairs, had she not been caught in the nick of time."

"That will be something poor Mac will hear with comfort."

"Yes," was the decided answer, after an instant of silence. "Yes. It

would comfort me if I were in his place. Nine o'clock then, Mr. Hatton, and at your quarters."

Before dark the ambulances got away, Dr. Weeks and the lieutenant going with them on horseback. Cutting short

a post-prandial cigar, Mr. Holmes left the surgeon to sip his coffee in solitude when a glance at his watch showed him that the hour of nine was approaching. Quickly he strode over toward "Bedlam," and

sprang up the low flight of steps to the veranda. To his surprise, the hall-door was closed; he turned the knob, but there was no yielding. Looking in through the side-lights, he could see that a lamp was

burning on the second floor, but that the hall-lantern below had either been forgotten or its light extinguished. Retracing his steps, he decided to go to the quartermaster and ask if he could have the key,

but before he had taken thirty strides up the parade he remembered that Hatton had told him that the hall-door was never locked and rarely closed. This struck him as odd, and he stopped to think it over in

connection with what he had just observed. Standing there just beyond the southern end of the big, faded white rookery, invisible himself in the darkness, he looked up at the lights in the rooms occupied by

the Forrest family, and wondered how the self-possessed and handsome young lady, now occasionally alluded to as the "Queen of Bedlam," had borne the day. The garrison was unusually still; not a sound of

mirth, music, or laughter came from the barracks of the men; not a whisper from the quarters of the officers around the parade. Somewhere, perhaps a mile away, out beyond the rushing Laramie, a dog or a

coyote was yelping, but all within the old fort was still as death. Suddenly, from the northern end of the veranda, there came the sound of a latch or lock quickly turned, a light footfall on the creaking

wooden floor, the swish and swirl of silken skirts, coming toward him rapidly. He gazed with all his eyes, but could not discern the advancing figure; so, struck by a sudden impulse, he sprang to the

veranda, up the southern steps, and almost collided with a woman's form, scurrying past him in the darkness.

"I beg pardon, Miss For----" he began to say; but without a word, with sudden leap the slender

shape whisked out of reach of voice or hand and vanished into the southern hall-way.

X.

Before the sounding of tattoo that night, the stage came in from Cheyenne. It had been warned by fleeing

ranchmen of the presence of the Sioux at Eagle's Nest, and had turned back to the strong defences at "Phillips's," on the Chug, remaining there in security until the driver had satisfied himself that the

coast was clear. No passengers came down with him, but he brought the mail; and, as none had been received for two days, and the wires were still down, the major commanding turned out and tramped to the