But Not The Slightest Disrespect Had Been Intended, And To Leave The Table Without Making Myself Known Was Not To Be Thought Of.

I wanted the pleasure, too, of telling those men that I knew the gait of a pacer very well - that not in the least did I deserve their pity.

My face was burning and my voice unnatural when I threw the bomb!

I said, "The horse you are speaking of I know very well. He is mine, and I ride him, and I thank you very much for the nice things you have just said about him!" Well, there was a sudden change of scene at that table - a dropping of knives and forks and various other things, and I became conscious of eyes - thousands of eyes - staring straight at me, as I watched my bronco friend at the end of the table. The man had opened his eyes wide, and almost gasped "Gee-rew-s'lum!" - then utterly collapsed. He sat back in his chair gazing at me in a helpless, bewildered way that was disconcerting, so I told him a number of things about Rollo - how Faye had taken him to Helena during race week and Lafferty, a professional jockey of Bozeman, had tested his speed, and had passed a 2:30 trotter with him one morning. The men knew Lafferty, of course. There was a queer coincidence connected with him and Rollo. The horse that he was driving at the races was a pacer named Rolla, while my horse, also a pacer, was named Rollo.

All talk about horses ceased at once, and the men said very little to each other during the remainder of the time we were at the table. It was almost pathetic, and an attention I very much appreciated, to see how bread, pickles, cold meat, and in fact everything else on that rough table, were quietly pushed to me, one after the other, without one word being said. That was their way of showing their approval of me. It was unpolished, but truly sincere.

I was not at all afraid that night, for I suspected that the horsemen at the supper-table were the "boys" referred to by Mrs. Gates. But it was impossible to sleep. The partition between the two rooms must have been very thin, for the noises that came through were awful. It seemed as though dozens of men were snoring at the same time, and that some of them were dangerously "croupy," for they choked and gulped, and every now and then one would have nightmare and groan and yell until some one would tell him to "shut up," or perhaps say something funny about him to the others. No matter how many times those men were wakened they were always cheerful and good-natured about it. A statement that I cannot truthfully make about myself on the same subject!

It was not necessary for me to leave my room through the window the next morning, although my breakfast was early. The house seemed deserted, and I had the long table all to myself. At six o'clock we started on our ride to Helena. I sat with the driver going through the long Prickly-Pear canon, and had a fine opportunity of seeing its magnificent grandeur, while the early shadows were still long. The sun was on many of the higher boulders, that made them sparkle and show brilliantly in their high lights and shadows. The trees and bushes looked unusually fresh and green. We hear that a railroad will soon be built through that canon - but we hope not. It would be positively wicked to ruin anything so grand.

We reached Helena before luncheon, and I soon found Miss Duncan, who was expecting me. We did not start back until the second day, so she and I visited all the shops and then drove out to Sulphur Spring. The way everybody and everything have grown and spread out since the Northern Pacific Railroad has been running cars through Helena is most amazing. It was so recently a mining town, just "Last Chance Gulch," where Chinamen were digging up the streets for gold, almost undermining the few little buildings, and Chinamen also were raising delicious celery, where now stand very handsome houses. Now Main street has many pretentious shops, and pretty residences have been put up almost to the base of Mount Helena.

The ride back was uneventful, greatly to Miss Duncan's disappointment. It is her first visit to the West, and she wants to see cowboys and all sorts of things. I should have said "wanted to see," for I think that already her interest in brass buttons is so great the cowboys will never be thought of again. There were two at Rock Creek, but they were uninteresting - did not wear "chaps," pistols, or even big spurs. At the Bird-Tail not one sheep was to be seen - every one had been sheared, and the big band driven back to its range. Miss Duncan is a pretty girl, and unaffected, and will have a delightful visit at this Western army post, where young girls from the Eastdo not come every day. And then we have several charming young bachelors!

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1887.

THE excitement is about over. Our guests have returned to their homes, and now we are settling down to our everyday garrison life. The wedding was very beautiful and as perfect in every detail as adoring father and mother and loving friends could make it. It was so strictly a military wedding, too - at a frontier post where everything is of necessity "army blue" - the bride a child of the regiment, her father an officer in the regiment many years, and the groom a recent graduate from West Point, a lieutenant in the regiment. We see all sorts of so-called military weddings in the East - some very magnificent church affairs, others at private houses, and informal, but there are ever lacking the real army surroundings that made so perfect the little wedding of Wednesday evening.

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