The two squirrels I carried to the woods and turned loose. I could not take them, and I would not leave them to be neglected perhaps. The "Tiger" was still a tiger, and as wild and fierce as when he came from the saw-mill, and was undoubtedly an old squirrel not to be taught new tricks. The flying thing was wholly lacking in sense. I scattered pounds of nuts all about and hope that the two little animals will not suffer. The Chinaman insisted upon our taking those chickens! He goes out every now and then and gives them big pans of food and talks to them in Chinese with a voice and expression that makes one almost want to weep, because the chickens have to be left behind.

We are to start on the eighteenth, and on the nineteenth we had expected to give a dinner—a very nice one, too. I am awfully sorry that we could not have given it before going away, for there are so many things to do here during the winter. The doctor has had no experience whatever in camp life, and we are wondering how he will like it. He looks like a man who would much prefer a nice little rocking-chair in a nice little room.

CAMP NEAR JUNOT'S, IN THE JUDITH BASIN, August, 1880.

THIS will be left at a little trading store as we pass to-morrow morning, with the hope that it will soon be taken on to Benton and posted.

So far, the trip has been delightful, and every bit as nice as I had anticipated. The day we left the post was more than hot—it was simply scorching; and my whole face on the right side, ear and all, was blistered before we got to the ferry. Just now I am going through a process of peeling which is not beautifying, and is most painful.

Before we had come two miles it was discovered that a "washer" was lacking on one of the wheels of a wagon, and a man was sent back on a mule to get one. This caused a delay and made Faye cross, for it really was inexcusable in the wagon master to send a wagon out on a trip like this in that condition. The doctor did not start with the command, but rode up while we were waiting for the man with the washer. The soldiers were lounging on the ground near the wagons, talking and laughing; but when they saw the doctor coming, there was perfect silence over there, and I watched and listened, curious to see what effect the funny sight would have upon them. First one sat up, then another, and some stood up, then some one of them giggled, and that was quite enough to start everyone of them to laughing. They were too far away for the laughing and snickering to be disrespectful, or even to be noticed much, but I knew why they laughed, for I laughed too.

The doctor did not present a military appearance. He is the very smallest man I ever saw, and he was on a government horse that is known by its great height—sixteen hands and two inches, I believe—and the little man's stirrups were about half way down the horse's sides, and his knees almost on the horse's back. All three of us are wearing officers' white cork helmets, but the doctor's is not a success, being ever so much too large for his small head, consequently it had tilted back and found a resting place on his shoulders, covering his ears and the upper part of his already hot face. For a whip he carried a little switch not much longer than his gauntlets, and which would have puzzled the big horse, if struck by it. With it all the little man could not ride, and as his government saddle was evidently intended for a big person, he seemed uncertain as to which was the proper place to sit—the pommel, the middle, or the curved back. All during that first day's march the soldiers watched him. I knew this, although we were at the head of the column—for every time he would start his horse up a little I could hear smothered laughter back of us.

It was late when we finally got across the Missouri on the funny ferryboat, so we camped for the night on this side near the ferryman's house. It was the doctor's first experience in camp, and of course he did not know how to make himself comfortable. He suffered from the heat, and became still warmer by rushing up and down fanning himself and fighting mosquitoes. Then after dinner he had his horse saddled, a soldier helped him to mount, and he rode back and forth bobbing all sorts of ways, until Faye could stand it no longer and told him to show some mercy to the beast that had carried him all day, and would have to do the same for days to come.

Most of the camps have been in beautiful places—always by some clear stream where often there was good trout fishing. In one or two of these we found grayling, a very gamey fish, that many epicures consider more delicate than the trout. We have a fine way of keeping fish for the following day. As soon as possible after they have been caught we pack them in long, wet grass and put them in a cool spot, and in this way they will keep remarkably fresh.

We have had an abundance of game, too—all kinds of grouse and prairie chicken, and the men killed one antelope. The Chinaman thought that Faye shot quite too many birds, and began to look cross when they were brought in, which annoyed me exceedingly, and I was determined to stop it. So one evening, after Faye had taken some young chicken to the cook tent, I said to the doctor, "Come with me," and going over to the tent I picked up the birds and went to some trees near by, and handing the doctor one, asked him to help me pick them, at the same time commencing to pull the feathers out of one myself. The poor doctor looked as though he was wishing he had made a specialty of dementia, and stood like a goose, looking at the chicken. Charlie soon became very restless—went inside the tent, and then came out, humming all the time. Finally he gave in, and coming over to us, fairly snatched the birds from me and said, "Me flixee him," and carried the whole bunch back of his tent where we could not see him. Since that evening Charlie has been the most delighted one in camp when Faye has brought birds in.

All the way we have had only a faint trail to follow, and often even that could not be seen after we had crossed a stream. At such places Faye, the doctor, and I would spread out and search for it. As Bettie and I were always put in the middle, we were usually the finders. One day we came up a hill that was so steep that twelve mules had to be hitched to each wagon in order to get it up. Another day we went down a hill where the trail was so sidling, that the men had to fasten big ropes to the upper side of each wagon to hold it right side up as it was drawn down. Another day we made only a few miles because of the deep-cut banks of a narrow little stream that wound around and across a valley, and which we had to cross eight times. At every crossing the banks had to be sloped off and the bed built up before the wagons could be drawn over. Watching all this has been most entertaining and the whole trip is making a man of the doctor.

To-night we are in camp in the Judith Basin and by the Judith River—a beautiful stream, and by far the largest we have seen on the march. And just across the river from us is a stockade, very high and very large, with heavy board gate that was closed as we came past. We can see the roof of the cabin inside, and a stovepipe sticking up through it. Faye says that he has just heard that the place is a nest of horse thieves of the boldest and most daring type, and that one of them is coming to see him this evening! He was told all this by the Frenchman, Junot, who has a little trading store a mile or so from here.

Faye and the doctor rode over there as soon as the tents had been pitched, to ascertain if the company from Missoula had passed. Our trail and the one from the Bitter Root valley fork there. The company passed several days ago, so we will go on in the morning; otherwise we would have been obliged to wait for it.

I had to stay here all alone as Faye would not consent to my going with him. He gave me one of his big pistols, and I had my own small one, and these I put on a table in the tent, after they had gone, and then fastened the tent flaps tight and sat down to await events. But the tent soon became stifling, and it occurred to me that it was foolish to shut myself up so I could not see whatever might come until it was right upon me, so putting my pistol in my pocket and hiding the other, I opened the tent and went out. The first thing I saw was a fishing pole with line and fly, and that I took, and the next was the first sergeant watching me. I knew then that Faye had told him to take care of me.

I went over to tell him that I was going for a fish, and then on down to the beautiful river, whose waters are green and very much the color of the Niagara River. I cast the fly over on the water, and instantly a large fish came up, took the fly, and went down again so easily and gracefully that he scarcely made a ripple on the water until he felt the pull of the line. That was when I forgot everything connected with camp—Faye, horse thieves, and Indians! I had no reel, of course, and getting the big fish out of the water was a problem, for I was standing on a rather high and steep bank. It jumped and jerked in a way that made me afraid I might be pulled down instead of my pulling the fish up, so I began to draw him in, and then up, hand over hand, not daring to breathe while he was suspended in the air. It called for every bit of my strength, as the shiny thing was so heavy. But I got him; and his length was just twice the width of my handkerchief—a splendid salmon trout. I laid it back of a rock in the shade, and went on down the stream, casting my one fly, and very soon I caught another trout of precisely the same size as the first, and which I landed the same way, too. I put it by the rock with the other.

I kept on down the river, whipping it with my lucky fly every few steps, but I caught no more fish, neither did I get a rise, but I did not mind that, for I had the two beauties, and I was having a grand time too. I had caught both large fish without assistance and with a common willow pole. All that serenity was upset, however, when I heard my name called with such a roar that I came near jumping over the bank to save myself from whatever was after me, but the "What are you doing so far from camp?" came just in time to stop me.

It was Faye, of course, and he was cross because I had gone so far alone, and had, in a way, disregarded his instructions—had done as I pleased after he had left me alone. I wanted to go to Junot's, therefore was not one bit sorry that I had frightened him, and said not a word to his sputtering about the danger from Indians and horse thieves as we started back to camp. After we had gone a little distance up I said, "I left something by that rock." I tried to lift the big fish to show him, but they were too heavy, and I had to hold up one at a time as I said, "This is Mr. Indian and this Mr. Horse Thief!" Faye was almost speechless over my having caught two such large trout, and started to camp with them at such a pace I had to run, almost, to keep up. He thought of something of great importance to say to the first sergeant, simply because he wanted to show them to the company. Some beautiful trout have been brought in by the enlisted men who went up the river, and I am so glad, for now they will have such a nice supper.

The horse thieves undoubtedly knew this country well, when they selected this valley for their hiding place. They have an abundance of delicious fish the year round at their very door, and there is any amount of game near, both furred and feathered, and splendid vegetables they can certainly raise, for they have just sent Faye a large grain sack overflowing with tender, sweet corn, new beets, turnips, cabbage, and potatoes. These will be a grand treat to us, as our own vegetables gave out several days ago. But just think of accepting these things from a band of desperadoes and horse thieves! Their garden must be inside the immense stockade, for there is nothing of the kind to be seen outside. They probably keep themselves in readiness for a long siege by sheriff and posse that may come down upon them at any time without warning. And all the time they know that if ever caught stealing horses, their trial will last just as long as it will take to drag them to a tree that has a good strong branch.

Charlie says that he is a mason and reads every evening in a book that is of his own printing. It is really wonderful. Every evening after dinner he sits out in front of his tent with a large silk handkerchief over his head, and perhaps another with which to fight the ever-present mosquitoes, and reads until dark. He is the only literary person in the command and we are quite proud of him. He is a great comfort to Faye and me, for his cooking is delicious. The doctor has a camp appetite now and is not as finicky as when we started on the trip.

FORT MAGINNIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1880.

IT is almost one week since we got here, but I have not written before as no mail has been sent out. I hope that the letter left with Junot has been received, also the two or three notes that were given to horsemen we met on their way to Fort Benton.

At first, Faye did not tell me all that he knew about those horse thieves in the Judith Basin, but it finally came out that the trader, Junot, had told him a most blood-curdling tale of events to come. He had declared most positively that the desperadoes were planning to attack the command, the very next morning while crossing the Judith Mountains, with a hope, of course, of getting the animals. He also told Faye that one of them would be in camp that evening to ask permission to go with him to Maginnis. Faye said the whole story was absurd, particularly the attack, as those horse thieves would never dare attack government troops. Besides, he had over fifty good men with him, and probably there were only ten or twelve horse thieves. So not much attention was paid to what the old Frenchman had said.

But after dinner, when we were sitting outside and Faye and the doctor were smoking, a man came around the corner of the tent with long, swinging strides, and was in our midst before we had dreamed of anyone being near. He spoke to Faye courteously, and declining a chair, dropped down full length on the ground, with elbows in the grass and chin on the palms of his hands. His feet were near the tent and his face out, which placed him in a fine position to observe everything in the camp without anyone seeing that he was doing so, especially as his eyes were screened by a soft, broad-brimmed hat. It was impossible to see their color, of course.

He was young—not over twenty-eight or thirty—and handsome, with a face that was almost girlish in its fairness. His hair was neatly cut, and so was his light mustache, and his smooth face showed that he had recently shaved. He was tall and lithe, and from his chin to his toes was dressed in fine buckskin—shirt, trousers, leggings, and moccasins—and around his neck was tied a blue cotton handkerchief, new and clean. That the man could be a horse thief, an outlaw, seemed most incredible.

He talked very well, too, of the country and the game, and we were enjoying the change in our usual after-dinner camp conversation, when suddenly up he jumped, and turning around looked straight at Faye, and then like a bomb came the request to be allowed to go with him to Fort Maginnis! He raised the brim of his hat, and there seemed to be a look of defiance in his steel-blue eyes. But Faye had been expecting this, and knowing that he was more than a match for the villain, he got up from his camp stool leisurely, and with great composure told the man: "Certainly, I will be very glad to have some one along who knows the trail so well." To be told that he knew the trail must have been disconcerting to the man, but not one word did he say in reference to it.

After he had gone, Faye went over to the company, where he remained some time, and I learned later that he had been giving the first sergeant careful instructions for the next day. I could not sleep that night because of horrible dreams—dreams of long, yellow snakes with fiery eyes crawling through green grass. I have thought so many times since of how perfectly maddening it must have been to those horse thieves to have twenty-two nice fat mules and three horses brought almost within the shadow of their very own stockade, and yet have it so impossible to gather them in!

At the appointed time the buckskin-man appeared the following morning on a beautiful chestnut horse with fancy bridle and Mexican saddle, and with him came a friend, his "pal" he told Faye, who was much older and was a sullen, villainous-looking man. Both were armed with rifles and pistols, but there was nothing remarkable in that; in this country it is a necessity. We started off very much as usual, except that Faye kept rather close to the "pal," which left Bettie and me alone most of the time, just a little at one side. I noticed that directly back of the horse thieves walked a soldier, armed with rifle and pistol, and Faye told me that night that he was one of the best sharpshooters in the Army, and that he was back of those men with orders to shoot them down like dogs if they made one treacherous move. The buckskin man was one of the most graceful riders I ever saw, and evidently loved his fine mount, as I saw him stroke his neck several times—and the man himself was certainly handsome.

Faye had told me that I must not question anything he might tell me to do, so after we had crossed the valley and gone up the mountains a little distance he called to me in a voice unnecessarily loud, that I must be tired riding so far, and had better get in the ambulance for a while. I immediately dismounted, and giving the bridle rein to a soldier, I waited for the ambulance to come up. As I got in, I felt that perhaps I was doing the first act in an awful tragedy. The horsemen and wagons had stopped during the minute or two I was getting in, but I saw soldiers moving about, and just as soon as I was seated I looked out to see what was going on.

A splendid old sergeant was going to the front with four soldiers, whom I knew were men to be trusted, each one with rifle, bayonet, and belt full of cartridges, and then I saw that some of the plans for that day's trip had not been told to me. The men were placed in front of everyone, four abreast, and Faye at once told the thieves that under no conditions must one ever get in front of the advance guard. How they must have hated it all—four drilled soldiers in front of them and a sharpshooter back of them, and all the time treated by Faye as honored guests!

There were four men at the rear of the wagons, and the posting of these rear and advance guards, and placing men on either side of the wagons, had been done without one order from Faye, so my dismounting must have been the signal for the sergeant to carry out the orders Faye had given him the night before. Not by one turn of the head did those outlaws show that they noticed those changes.

In that way we crossed the range. We met a dozen or more men of the very roughest type, each one heavily armed. They were in parties of two and three, and Faye thinks that a signal was passed between one of them and the "pal." But there was no attack as had been predicted! What might have taken place, however, if Faye had not been prepared, no one can tell. Certainly part of Junot's story had been carried out—the horse thief came to the tent and came with us to Maginnis, and it was not because he wanted the protection of the troops. Faye insists that an attack was never thought of, but as he was responsible for government property, including the animals, he had to make preparation to protect them. Of course those men wanted only the animals. We passed many places on the divide that were ideal for an ambush—bluffs, huge boulders, and precipices—everything perfect for a successful hold up.

The men came on to the post with us, and were in camp two nights with the soldiers. The second day from the Judith, we stopped for luncheon near a small stream where there were a great many choke-cherry bushes, and "Buckskin Joe"*—that was his name—brought large bunches of the cherries to me. His manner showed refinement, and I saw that his wonderful eyes could be tender as well as steely. Perhaps he had sisters at the old home, and perhaps, too, I was the first woman he had seen in months to remind him of them. I shall always believe that he is from good people some place East, that his "dare-devil" nature got him into some kind of trouble there, and that he came to this wild country to hide from Justice. The very morning after we got here, not long after our breakfast, he appeared at our tent with a fine young deer slung across the back of his horse, which he presented to us. He had just killed it. It was most acceptable, as there was no fresh meat in camp. He and his "pal" stayed around that day and night, and then quietly disappeared. Not one of the soldiers, even, saw them go.

*About six years after this occurrence, there was a graphic account in the Western papers of the horrible death of "Buckskin Joe," who was known as one of the most daring and slippery horse thieves in the Territory. After evading arrest many times, he was finally hunted down by a sheriff's posse, when his fiendish fighting excited the admiration of those who were killing him. A bullet broke one of his legs, and he went down, but he kept on shooting—and so fast that no one dared approach him. And when the forearm of his pistol hand was shattered, he grasped the pistol with the other hand and continued to shoot, even when he could not sit up, but had to hold himself up by the elbow of his broken arm. He was finally killed, fairly riddled with bullets. He knew, of course, all the time what his fate would be if taken alive, and he chose the cold lead instead of the end of a rope.

It was pleasant to meet our old friends here. Colonel Palmer is in command, and I was particularly glad to see them. After Mrs. Palmer had embraced me she held me off a little and said: "What have you been doing to your face? my, but you are ugly!" The skin on the blistered side has peeled off in little strips, leaving the new skin very white in between the parched brown of the old, so I expect I do resemble a zebra or an Indian with his war paint on. The post, which is only a camp as yet, is located at the upper end of a beautiful valley, and back of us is a canon and mountains are on both sides. Far down the valley is a large Indian village, and we can distinctly see the tepees, and often hear the "tom-toms" when the Indians dance. There are other Indian camps near, and it is not safe to go far from the tents without an escort. It seems to be a wonderful country for game—deer, grouse, and prairie chicken. Twice we have seen deer come down from the mountains and drink from the stream just below the post. Bettie and I have scared up chicken every time we have taken little runs around the camp, and Faye has shot large bags of them. They are not as great a treat to us as to our friends, for we had so many on the way over.

We have two wall tents, one for sitting room and one for bedroom, and in front a "fly" has been stretched. Our folding camp furniture makes the tents very comfortable. Back of these is the mess, or dining tent, and back of that is the cook tent. Charlie has a small range now, which keeps him squeaking or half singing all the time. One morning, before we got this stove from the quartermaster, breakfast was late, very late. The wind was blowing a gale, and after waiting and waiting, we concluded that Charlie must be having trouble with the little sheet-iron camp stove. So Faye went back to see what was the matter. He returned laughing, and said he had found a most unhappy Chinaman; that Charlie was holding the stove down with a piece of wood with one hand, and with the other was trying to keep the breakfast on the stove.

You know the stovepipe goes up through a piece of tin fastened in the roof of the tent, which is slanting, and when the canvas catches the wind and flops up and down and every other way, the stovepipe naturally has to go with it. The wind was just right that morning to flop everything—canvas, pipe, stove, and breakfast, too—particularly the delicate Saratoga chips Charlie had prepared for us, and which, Faye said, were being blown about like yellow rose leaves. The poor little heathen was distracted, but when he saw Faye he instantly became a general and said at once, "You hole-ee him—me takee bleckfus." So Faye having a desire for breakfast, held down the stove while Charlie got things together. The Saratoga chips were delicate and crisp and looked nice, too, but neither the doctor nor I asked Faye if they were some of the "rose leaves" or just plain potatoes from a dish!

Charlie is splendid and most resourceful. Very near our tent is a small stream of cold, clear water, and on one side of this he has made a little cave of stones through which the water runs, and in this he keeps the butter, milk, and desserts that require a cool place. He is pottering around about something all the time. There is just one poor cow in the whole camp, so we cannot get much milk—only one pint each day—but we consider ourselves very fortunate in getting any at all. I brought over fourteen dozen eggs, packed in boxes with salt. We are to start back the first of November, so after we got here I worked out a little problem in mathematics, and found that the eggs would last by using only two each day. But Charlie does better than this; he will manage to get along without eggs for a day or two, and will then surprise us with a fine omelet or custard. But he keeps an exact account and never exceeds his allowance.

The doctor is still with us, and shows no inclination to join the officers' mess that has just been started. He seems to think that he is one of the family, and would be greatly surprised, and hurt probably, if he should discover that we would rather be alone.

FORT MAGINNIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1880.

THERE is a large village of Cree Indians in the valley below, and for several days they were a great nuisance in the garrison. One bright morning it was discovered that a long line of them had left their tepees and were coming in this direction. They were riding single file, of course, and were chanting and beating "tom-toms" in a way to make one's blood feel frozen. I was out on one of the little hills at the time, riding Bettie, and happened to be about the first to see them. I started for the post at once at a fast gait and told Faye and Colonel Palmer about them, but as soon as it was seen that they were actually coming to the post, I rode out again about as fast as I had come in, and went to a bit of high ground where I could command a view of the camp, and at the same time be screened by bushes and rocks. And there I remained until those savages were well on their way back to their own village.

Then I went in, and was laughed at by everyone, and assured by some that I had missed a wonderful sight. The Crees are Canadian Indians and are here for a hunt, by permission of both governments. They and the Sioux are very hostile to each other; therefore when four or five Sioux swooped down upon them a few days ago and drove off twenty of their ponies, the Crees were frantic. It was an insult not to be put up with, so some of their best young warriors were sent after them. They recaptured the ponies and killed one Sioux.

Now an Indian is shrewd and wily! The Sioux had been a thief, therefore the Crees cut off his right hand, fastened it to a long pole with the fingers pointing up, and with much fuss and feathers—particularly feathers—brought it to the "White Chief," to show him that the good, brave Crees had killed one of the white man's enemies! The leading Indian carried the pole with the hand, and almost everyone of those that followed carried something also—pieces of flags, or old tin pans or buckets, upon which they beat with sticks, making horrible noises. Each Indian was chanting in a sing-song, mournful way. They were dressed most fancifully; some with red coats, probably discarded by the Canadian police, and Faye said that almost everyone had on quantities of beads and feathers.

Bringing the hand of a dead Sioux was only an Indian's way of begging for something to eat, and this Colonel Palmer understood, so great tin cups of hot coffee and boxes of hard-tack were served to them. Then they danced and danced, and to me it looked as though they intended to dance the rest of their lives right on that one spot. But when they saw that any amount of furious dancing would not boil more coffee, they stopped, and finally started back to their village.

Faye tells me that as he was going to his tent from the dancing, he noticed an Indian who seemed to be unusually well clad, his moccasins and leggings were embroidered with beads and he was wrapped in a bright-red blanket, head as well as body. As he passed him a voice said in the purest English, "Lieutenant, can you give me a sear spring for my rifle?" The only human being near was that Indian, wrapped closely in a blanket, with only his eyes showing, precisely as one would expect to see a hostile dressed. Faye said that it gave him the queerest kind of a sensation, as though the voice had come from another world. He asked the Indian where he had learned such good English and technical knowledge of guns, and he said at the Carlisle school. He said also that he was a Piegan and on a visit to some Cree friends. This was one of the many proofs that we have had, that no matter how good an education the Indian may receive, he will return to his blanket and out-of-the-pot way of living just as soon as he returns to his people. It would be foolish to expect anything different.

But those Cree Indians! The coffee had been good, very good, and they wanted more, so the very next morning they brought to Colonel Palmer an old dried scalp lock, scalp of "White Chief's enemy," with the same ceremony as they had brought the hand. Then they sat around his tent and watched him, giving little grunts now and then until in desperation he ordered coffee for them, after which they danced. The men gave them bits of tobacco too. Well, they kept this performance up three or four days, each day bringing something to Colonel Palmer to make him think they had killed a Sioux. This became very tiresome; besides, the soldiers were being robbed of coffee, so Colonel Palmer shut himself in his tent and refused to see them one day, and an orderly told them to go away and make no noise. They finally left the post looking very mournful, the men said. I told Colonel Palmer that he might better have gone out on the hills as I did; that it was ever so much nicer than being shut up in a tent.

Bettie is learning to rear higher and higher, and I ride Pete now. The last time I rode her she went up so straight that I slipped back in my saddle, and some of the enlisted men ran out to my assistance. I let her have her own way and came back to the tent, and jumping down, declared to Faye that I would never ride her again. She is very cute in her badness, and having once discovered that I didn't like a rearing horse, she has proceeded to rear whenever she wanted her own way. I have enjoyed riding her because she is so graceful and dainty, but I have been told so many times that the horse was dangerous and would throw me, that perhaps I have become a little nervous about her.

A detail of soldiers goes up in the mountains twice every day for poles with which to make the roofs of the log quarters. They go along a trail on the other side of the creek, and on this side is a narrow deer path that runs around the rocky side of a small mountain. Ever since I have been here I have wanted to go back of the mountain by that path. So, when I happened to be out on Pete yesterday afternoon at the time the men started, I at once decided to take advantage of their protection and ride around the little mountain.

About half a mile up, there were quantities of bushes eight and ten feet high down in the creek bed, and the narrow trail that Pete was on was about on a level with the tops of the bushes. At my left the hill was very steep and covered with stones. I was having a delightful time, feeling perfectly safe with so many soldiers within call. But suddenly things changed. Down in those bushes there was a loud crashing and snapping, and then straight up into the air jumped a splendid deer! His head and most of his neck were above the bushes, and for just one instant he looked at us with big inquisitive eyes before he went down again.

When the deer went up Pete went up, too, on the steep hill, and as I was on his back I had to go with him. The horse was badly frightened, snorted, and raised his tail high, and when I tried to get him down on the trail, the higher up he went on the rolling stones. I could almost touch the side of the mountain with my whip in places, it was so steep. It was a most dangerous position to be in, and just what elevation I might have been carried to eventually I do not know, had not the deer stopped his crashing through the bushes and bounded up on the opposite bank, directly in front of the first team of mules, and then on he streaked it across a plateau and far up a mountain side, his short white tail showing distinctly as he ran. With the deer, Pete seemed to think that the Evil One had gone, too, and consented to return to the trail and to cross the stream over to the wagons.

The corporal had stopped the wagons until he saw that I was safely down, and I asked him why he had not killed the deer—we are always in need of game—and he said that he had not seen him until he was in front of the mules, and that it was impossible then, as the deer did not wait for them to get the rifles out of their cases on the bottom of the wagons. That evening at the whist table I told Colonel Palmer about the deer and Pete, and saw at once that I had probably gotten the poor corporal in trouble. Colonel Palmer was very angry that the men should even think of going several miles from the post, in an Indian country, with their rifles cased and strapped so they would have been practically useless in case of an attack.

Faye says that the men were not thinking of Indians, but simply trying to keep their rifles from being marred and scratched, for if they did get so they would be "jumped" at the first inspection. Colonel Palmer gave most positive orders for the soldiers to hold their rifles in their hands on their way to and from the mountains, which perhaps is for the best.

But I am afraid they will blame me for such orders having been issued.

FORT MAGINNIS, MONTANA TERRITORY, October, 1880.

IT is not surprising that politicians got a military post established here, so this wonderful country could be opened and settled, for the country itself is not only beautiful, but it has an amount of game every place that is almost beyond belief. Deer are frequently seen to come down from the mountains to the creek for water, and prairie chicken would come to our very tents, I fancy, if left to follow their inclinations.

Faye is officer of the day every third day, but the other two days there is not much for him to do, as the company is now working on the new quarters under the supervision of the quartermaster. So we often go off on little hunts, usually for chicken, but sometimes we go up on one of the mountains, where there are quantities of ruffed grouse. These are delicious, with meat as tender and white as young chicken, and they are so pretty, too, when they spread the ruffs around their necks and make fans of their short tail feathers.

Yesterday we went out for birds for both tables—the officers' mess and our own. The other officers are not hunters, and Faye is the possessor of the only shotgun in the garrison, therefore it has been a great pleasure to us to bring in game for all. Faye rides Bettie now altogether, so I was on Pete yesterday. We had quite a number of chickens, but thought we would like to get two or three more; therefore, when we saw a small covey fly over by some bushes, and that one bird went beyond and dropped on the other side, Faye told me to go on a little, and watch that bird if it rose again when he shot at the others. It is our habit usually for me to hold Faye's horse when he dismounts to hunt, but that time he was some distance away, and had slipped his hand through the bridle rein and was leading Bettie that way. Both horses are perfectly broken to firearms, and do not in the least mind a gun. I have often seen Bettie prick up her ears and watch the smoke come from the barrel with the greatest interest.

Everything went on very well until I got where I might expect to see the chicken, and then I presume I gave more thought to the bird than to the ground the horse was on. At all events, it suddenly occurred to me that the grass about us was very tall, and looking down closely I discovered that Pete was in an alkali bog and slowly going down. I at once tried to get him back to the ground we had just left, but in his frantic efforts to get his feet out of the sticky mud, he got farther to one side and slipped down into an alkali hole of nasty black water and slime. That I knew to be exceedingly dangerous, and I urged the horse by voice and whip to get him out before he sank down too deep, but with all his efforts he could do nothing, and was going down very fast and groaning in his terror.

Seeing that I must have assistance without delay, I called to Faye to come at once, and sat very still until he got to us, fearing that if I changed my position the horse might fall over. Faye came running, and finding a tuft of grass and solid ground to stand upon, pulled Pete by the bridle and encouraged him until the poor beast finally struggled out, his legs and stomach covered with the black slime up to the flaps of my saddle, so one can see what danger we were in. There was no way of relieving the horse of my weight, as it was impossible for me to jump and not get stuck in the mud myself. This is the only alkali hole we have discovered here. It is screened by bunches of tall grass, and I expect that many a time I have ridden within a few feet of it when alone, and if my horse had happened to slip down on any one of these times, we probably would have been sucked from the face of the earth, and not one person to come to our assistance or to know what had happened to us.

When Faye heard my call of distress, he threw the bridle back on Bettie, and slipping the shotgun through the sling on the saddle, hurried over to me, not giving Bettie much thought. The horse has always shown the greatest disinclination to leaving Pete, but having her own free will that time, she did the unexpected and trotted to a herd of mules not far off, and as she went down a little hill the precious shotgun slipped out of the sling to the ground, and the stock broke! The gun is perfectly useless, and the loss of it is great to us and our friends. To be in this splendid game country without a shotgun is deplorable; still, to have been buried in a hole of black water and muck would have been worse.

Later. Such an awful wind storm burst upon us while I was writing two days ago, I was obliged to stop. The day was cold and our tents were closed tight to keep the heat in, so we knew nothing of the storm until it struck us, and with such fierceness it seemed as if the tents must go down. Instantly there was commotion in camp—some of the men tightening guy ropes, and others running after blankets and pieces of clothing that had been out for an airing, but every man laughed and made fun of whatever he was doing. Soldiers are always so cheerful under such difficulties, and I dearly love to hear them laugh, and yell, too, over in their tents.

The snow fell thick and fast, and the wind came through the canon back of us with the velocity of a hurricane. As night came on it seemed to increase and the tents began to show the strain and one or two had gone down, so the officers' families were moved into the unfinished log quarters for the night. Colonel Palmer sent for me to go over also, and Major Bagley came twice for me, saying our tents would certainly fall, and that it would be better to go then, than in the middle of the night. But I had more faith in those tents, for they were new and pitched remarkably well. Soon after we got here, long poles had been put up on stakes all along each side of, and close to, the tents, and to these the guy ropes of both tents and "fly" covers had been securely fastened, all of which had prevented much flopping of canvas. Dirt had been banked all around the base of the tents, so with a very little fire we could be warm and fairly comfortable.

The wind seemed to get worse every minute, and once in a while there would be a loud "boom" when a big Sibley tent would be ripped open, and then would come yells from the men as they scrambled after their belongings. After it became dark it seemed dismal, but Faye would not go in a building, and I would not leave him alone to hold the stove down. This was our only care and annoyance. It was intensely cold, and in order to have a fire we were compelled to hold the pipe down on the little conical camp stove, for with the flopping of the tent and fly, the pipe was in constant motion. Faye would hold it for a while, then I would relieve him, and so on. The holding-down business was very funny for an hour or two, but in time it became monotonous.

We got through the night very well, but did not sleep much. The tearing and snapping of tents, and the shouting of the men when a tent would fall upon them was heard frequently, and when we looked out in the morning the camp had the appearance of having been struck by a cyclone! Two thirds of the tents were flat on the ground, others were badly torn, and the unfinished log quarters only added to the desolation. Snow was over everything ten or twelve inches deep. But the wind had gone down and the atmosphere was wonderfully clear, and sparkling, and full of frost.

Dinner the evening before had not been a success, so we were very prompt to the nice hot breakfast Charlie gave us. That Chinaman has certainly been a great comfort on this trip. The doctor came over looking cross and sick. He said at once that we had been wise in remaining in our comfortable tents, that everybody in the log houses was sneezing and complaining of stiff joints. The logs have not been chinked yet, and, as might have been expected, wind and snow swept through them. The stoves have not been set up, so even one fire was impossible. Two or three of their tents did go down, however, the doctor's included, and perhaps they were safer in a breezy house, after all.

The mail has been held back, and will start with us. The time of going was determined at Department Headquarters, and we will have to leave here on the first—day after to-morrow—if such a thing is possible. We return by the way of Benton. It is perfectly exasperating to see prairie chicken all around us on the snow. Early this morning there was a large covey up in a tree just across the creek from our tent, looking over at us in a most insolent manner. They acted as though they knew there was not a shotgun within a hundred miles of them. They were perfectly safe, for everyone was too nearly frozen to trouble them with a rifle.

Camping on the snow will not be pleasant, and we regret very much that the storm came just at this time. Charlie is busy cooking all sorts of things for the trip, so he will not have much to do on the little camp stove. He is a treasure, but says that he wishes we could stay here; that he does not want to return to Fort Shaw. This puzzles me very much, as there are so many Chinamen at Shaw and not one here. The doctor will not go back with us, as he has received orders to remain at this post during the winter.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, November, 1880.

THE past few days have been busy ones. The house has received much needed attention and camp things have been looked over and put away, ready for the next move. The trip back was a disappointment to me and not at all pleasant. The wagons were very lightly loaded, so the men rode in them all the way, and we came about forty miles each day, the mules keeping up a steady slow trot. Of course I could not ride those distances at that gait, therefore I was compelled to come in the old, jerky ambulance.

The snow was still deep when we left Maginnis, and at the first camp snow had to be swept from the ground where our tent was pitched. But after that the weather was warm and sunny. We saw the greatest number of feathered game—enormous flocks of geese, brant, and ducks. Our camp one night was near a small lake just the other side of Benton, and at dusk hundreds of geese came and lit on the water, until it looked like one big mass of live, restless things, and the noise was deafening. Some of the men shot at them with rifles, but the geese did not seem to mind much.

Charlie told me at Maginnis that he did not want to return to Shaw, and I wondered at that so many times. I went in the kitchen two miserable mornings back and found him sitting down looking unhappy and disconsolate. I do not remember to have ever seen a Chinaman sitting down that way before, and was afraid he might be sick, but he said at once and without preamble, "Me go 'way!" He saw my look of surprise and said again, "Me go 'way—Missee Bulk's Chinee-man tellee me go 'way." I said, "But, Charlie, Lee has no right to tell you to go; I want you to stay." He hesitated one second, then said in the most mournful of voices, "Yes, me know, me feel vellee blad, but Lee, he tellee me go—he no likee mason-man." No amount of persuasion could induce him to stay, and that evening after dinner he packed his bedding on his back and went away—to the Crossing, I presume. Charlie called himself a mason, and has a book that he made himself which he said was a "mason-man blook," but I learned yesterday that he is a "high-binder," no mason at all, and for that reason the Chinamen in the garrison would not permit him to remain here. They were afraid of him, yet he seemed so very trustworthy in every way. But a highbinder in one's own house!

There has been another departure from the family—Bettie has been sold! Lieutenant Warren wanted her to match a horse he had recently bought. The two make a beautiful little team, and Bettie is already a great pet, and I am glad of that, of course, but I do not see the necessity of Lieutenant Warren's giving her sugar right in front of our windows! His quarters are near ours. He says that Bettie made no objections to the harness, but drove right off with her mate.

There was a distressing occurrence in the garrison yesterday that I cannot forget. At all army posts the prisoners do the rough work, such as bringing the wood and water, keeping the yards tidy, bringing the ice, and so on. Yesterday morning one of the general prisoners here escaped from the sentry guarding him. The long-roll was beaten, and as this always means that something is wrong and calls out all the troops, officers and men, I ran out on the porch to see what was the matter, fearing there might be a fire some place. It seemed a long time before the companies got in line, and then I noticed that instead of fire buckets they were carrying rifles. Directly every company started off on double time and disappeared in between two sets of barracks at one corner of the parade ground. Then everything was unusually quiet; not a human being to be seen except the sentry at the guardhouse, who was walking post.

It was pleasant, so I sat down, still feeling curious about the trouble that was serious enough to call out all the troops. It was not so very long before Lieutenant Todd, who was officer of the day, came from the direction the companies had gone, pistol in hand, and in front of him was a man with ball and chain. That means that his feet were fastened together by a large chain, just long enough to permit him to take short steps, and to that short chain was riveted a long one, at the end of which was a heavy iron ball hanging below his belt. When we see a prisoner carrying a ball and chain we know that he is a deserter, or that he has done something very bad, which will probably send him to the penitentiary, for these balls are never put on a prisoner who has only a short time in the guardhouse.

The prisoner yesterday—who seemed to be a young man—walked slowly to the guardhouse, the officer of the day following closely. Going up the steps and on in the room to a cot, he unfastened the ball from his belt and let it thunder down on the floor, and then throwing himself down on the cot, buried his face in the blankets, an awful picture of woe and despair. On the walk by the door, and looking at him with contempt, stood a splendid specimen of manhood—erect, broad-chested, with clear, honest eyes and a weather-beaten face—a typical soldier of the United States Army, and such as he, the prisoner inside might have become in time. Our house is separated from the guardhouse by a little park only, and I could plainly see the whole thing—the strong man and the weakling.

In the meantime, bugles had called the men back to quarters, and very soon I learned all about the wretched affair. The misguided young man had deserted once before, was found guilty by a general court-martial, and sentenced to the penitentiary at Leavenworth for the regulation time for such an offense, and to-morrow morning he was to have started for the prison. Now he has to stand a second court-martial, and serve a double sentence for desertion!

He was so silly about it too. The prisoners were at the large ice house down by the river, getting ice out for the daily delivery. There were sentinels over them, of course, but in some way that man managed to sneak over the ice through the long building to an open door, through which he dropped down to the ground, and then he ran. He was missed almost instantly and the alarm given, but the companies were sent to the lowland along the river, where there are bushes, for there seemed to be no other place where he could possibly secrete himself.

The officer of the day is responsible, in a way, for the prisoners, so of course Lieutenant Todd went to the ice house to find out the cause of the trouble, and on his way back he accidentally passed an old barrel-shaped water wagon. Not a sound was heard, but something told him to look inside. He had to climb up on a wheel in order to get high enough to look through the little square opening at the top, but he is a tall man and could just see in, and peering down he saw the wretched prisoner huddled at one end, looking more like an animal than a human being. He ordered him to come out, and marched him to the guardhouse.

It was a strange coincidence, but the officer of the day happened to have been promoted from the ranks, had served his three years as an enlisted man, and then passed a stiff examination for a commission. One could see by his walk that he had no sympathy for the mother's baby. He knew from experience that a soldier's life is not hard unless the soldier himself makes it so. The service and discipline develop all the good qualities of the man, give him an assurance and manly courage he might never possess otherwise, and best of all, he learns to respect law and order.

The Army is not a rough place, and neither are the men starved or abused, as many mothers seem to think. Often the company commanders receive the most pitiful letters from mothers of enlisted men, beseeching them to send their boys back to them, that they are being treated like dogs, dying of starvation, and so on. As though these company commanders did not know all about those boys and the life they had to live.

It is such a pity that these mothers cannot be made to realize that army discipline, regular hours, and plain army food is just what those "boys" need to make men of them. Judging by several letters I have read, sent to officers by mothers of soldiers, I am inclined to believe that weak mothers in many cases are responsible for the desertion of their weak sons. They sap all manhood from them by "coddling" as they grow up, and send them out in the world wholly unequal to a vigorous life—a life without pie and cake at every meal. Well! I had no intention of moralizing this way, but I have written only the plain truth.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY September, 1881.

THERE has been quite a little flutter of excitement in the garrison during the past week brought about by a short visit from the Marquis of Lome and his suite. As governor general of Canada, he had been inspecting his own military posts, and then came on down across the line to Shaw, en route to Dillon, where he will take the cars for the East. Colonel Knight is in command, so it fell upon him to see that Lord Lome was properly provided for, which he did by giving up absolutely for his use his own elegantly furnished quarters. Lord Lome took possession at once and quietly dined there that evening with one or two of his staff, and Colonel Knight as his guest.

The members of the suite were entertained by different officers of the garrison, and Captain Percival of the Second Life Guards was our guest. They were escorted across the line to this post by a company of Canadian mounted police, and a brave appearance those redcoats made as they rode on the parade ground and formed two lines through which the governor general and his staff rode, with the booming of cannon. Colonel Knight went out to meet them, escorted by our mounted infantry in command of Lieutenant Todd.

The horses of the mounted police were very small, and inferior in every way to the animals one would expect the Canadian government to provide, and it did look very funny to see the gorgeously dressed police with their jaunty, side-tilted caps riding such wretched little beasts!

Our officers were on the parade to receive the governor general, and the regimental band was there also, playing all sorts of things. Presently, without stop, and as though it was the continuation of a melody, the first notes of "God Save the Queen" were heard. Instantly the head of every Englishman and Canadian was uncovered—quietly, and without ostentation or slightest break in hand-shaking and talking. It was like a military movement by bugle call! Some of us who were looking on through filmy curtains thought it a beautiful manifestation of loving loyalty. They were at a military post of another nation, in the midst of being introduced to its officers, yet not one failed to remember and to remind, that he was an Englishman ever!

Mrs. Gordon saved me the worry of preparing an elaborate dinner at this far-away place, by inviting us and our guest to dine with her and her guests. I am inclined to think that this may have been a shrewd move on the part of the dear friend, so she could have Hang to assist her own cook at her dinner. It was a fine arrangement, at all events, and pleased me most of all. I made the salad and arranged the table for her. Judging from what I saw and heard, Hang was having a glorious time. He had evidently frightened the old colored cook into complete idiocy, and was ordering her about in a way that only a Chinaman knows.

The dinner was long, but delicious and enjoyable in every way. Lord Bagot, the Rev. Dr. MacGregor, Captain Chater, and others of the governor general's staff were there—sixteen of us in all. Captain Percival sat at my right, of course, and the amount he ate was simply appalling! And the appetites of Lord Bagot and the others were equally fine. Course after course disappeared from their plates—not a scrap left on them—until one wondered how it was managed. Soon after dinner everyone went to Colonel Knight's quarters, where Lord Lome was holding a little reception. He is a charming man, very simple in his manner, and one could hardly believe that he is the son-in-law of a great queen and heir to a splendid dukedom.

He had announced that he would start at ten o'clock the next morning, so I ordered breakfast at nine. A mounted escort from the post was to go with him to Dillon in command of Faye. It has always seemed so absurd and really unkind for Americans to put aside our own ways and customs when entertaining foreigners, and bore them with wretched representations of things of their own country, thereby preventing them from seeing life as it is here. So I decided to give our English captain an out and out American breakfast—not long, or elaborate, but dainty and nicely served. And I invited Miss Mills to meet him, to give it a little life.

Well, nine o'clock came, so did Miss Mills, so did half after nine come, and then, finally ten o'clock, but Captain Percival did not come! I was becoming very cross—for half an hour before I had sent Hang up to call him, knowing that he and Faye also, were obliged to be ready to start at ten o'clock. I was worried, too, fearing that Faye would have to go without any breakfast at all. Of course the nice little breakfast was ruined! Soon after ten, however, our guest came down and apologized very nicely—said that the bed was so very delightful be simply could not leave it. Right there I made a mental resolution to the effect that if ever a big Englishman should come to my house to remain overnight, I would have just one hour of delight taken from that bed!

To my great amusement, also pleasure. Captain Percival ate heartily of everything, and kept on eating, and with such apparent relish I began to think that possibly it might be another case of "delight," and finally to wonder if Hang had anything in reserve. Once he said, "What excellent cooks you have here!" This made Miss Mills smile, for she knew that Hang had been loaned out the evening before. Faye soon left us to attend to matters in connection with the trip, but the three of us were having a very merry time—for Captain Percival was a most charming man—when in the room came Captain Chater, his face as black as the proverbial thundercloud, and after speaking to me, looked straight and reprovingly at Captain Percival and said, "You are keeping his excellency waiting!" That was like a bomb to all, and in two seconds the English captains had shaken hands and were gone.

The mounted police are still in the post, and I suspect that this is because their commander is having such a pleasant time driving and dining with his hostess, who is one of our most lovely and fascinating women. I received a note from Faye this morning from Helena. He says that so far the trip has been delightful, and that in every way and by all he is being treated as an honored guest. Lord Lome declined a large reception in Helena, because the United States is in mourning for its murdered President. What an exquisite rebuke to some of our ignorant Americans! Faye writes that Lord Lome and members of his staff are constantly speaking in great praise of the officers' wives at Shaw, and have asked if the ladies throughout the Army are as charming and cultured as those here.

Our young horses are really very handsome now, and their red coats are shining from good grooming and feeding. They are large, and perfectly matched in size, color, and gait, as they should be, since they are half brothers. I am learning to drive now, a single horse, and find it very interesting—but not one half as delightful as riding—I miss a saddle horse dreadfully. Now and then I ride George—my own horse—but he always reminds me that his proper place is in the harness, by making his gait just as rough as possible.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1881.

YOU will be greatly surprised to hear that Faye has gone to Washington! His father is very ill—so dangerously so that a thirty-days' leave was telegraphed Faye from Department Headquarters, without his having applied for it so as to enable him to get to Admiral Rae without delay. Some one in Washington must have asked for the leave. It takes so long for letters to reach us from the East that one never knows what may be taking place there. Faye started on the next stage to Helena and at Dillon will take the cars for Washington.

Faye went away the night before the entertainment, which made it impossible for me to be in the pantomime "Villikens and Dinah," so little Miss Gordon took my place and acted remarkably well, notwithstanding she had rehearsed only twice. The very stage that carried Faye from the post, brought to us Mr. Hughes of Benton for a few days. But this turned out very nicely, for Colonel and Mrs. Mills, who know him well, were delighted to have him go to them, and there he is now. The next day I invited Miss Mills and Mr. Hughes to dine with me informally, and while I was in the dining room attending to the few pieces of extra china and silver that would be required for dinner (a Chinaman has no idea of the fitness of things), Volmer, our striker, came in and said to me that he would like to take the horses and the single buggy out for an hour or so, as he wanted to show them to a friend.

I saw at once that he and I were to have our usual skirmish. There is one, always, whenever Faye is away any length of time. The man has a frightful temper, and a year ago shot and killed a deserter. He was acquitted by military court, and later by civil court, both courts deciding that the shooting was accidental. But the deserter was a catholic and Volmer is a quaker, so the feeling in the company was so hostile toward him that for several nights he was put in the guardhouse for protection. Then Faye took him as striker, and has befriended him in many ways. But those colts he could not drive. So I told him that the horses could not go out during the lieutenant's absence, unless I went with them. He became angry at once, and said that it was the first team he had ever taken care of that he was not allowed to drive as often as he pleased. A big story, of course, but I said to him quietly, "You heard what I said, Volmer, and further discussion will be quite useless. You were never permitted to take the colts out when Lieutenant Rae was here, and now that he is away, you certainly cannot do so." And I turned back to my spoons and forks.

Volmer went out of the room, but I had an uncomfortable feeling that matters were not settled. In a short time I became conscious of loud talking in the kitchen, and could distinctly hear Volmer using most abusive language about Faye and me. That was outrageous and not to be tolerated a second, and without stopping to reason that it would be better not to hear, and let the man talk his anger off, out to the kitchen I went. I found Volmer perched upon one end of a large wood box that stands close to a door that leads out to a shed. I said: "Volmer, I heard what you have been saying, as you intended I should, and now I tell you to go out of this house and stay out, until you can speak respectfully of Lieutenant Rae and of me." But he sat still and looked sullen and stubborn. I said again, "Go out, and out; of the yard too." But he did not move one inch.

By that time I was furious, and going to the door that was so close to the man he could have struck me, I opened it wide, and pointing out with outstretched arm I said, "You go instantly!" and instantly he went. Chinamen are awful cowards, and with the first word I said to the soldier, Hang had shuffled to his own room, and there he had remained until he heard Volmer go out of the house. Then he came back, and looking at me with an expression of the most solemn pity, said, "He vellee blad man—he killee man—he killee you, meb-bee!" The poor little heathen was evidently greatly disturbed, and so was I, too. Not because I was at all afraid of being killed, but because of the two spirited young horses that still required most careful handling. And Faye might be away several months! I knew that the commanding officer, also the quartermaster, would look after them and do everything possible to assist me, but at the same time I knew that there was not a man in the post who could take Volmer's place with the horses. He is a splendid whip and perfect groom. I could not send them to Mr. Vaughn's to run, as they had been blanketed for a long time, and the weather was cold.

Of course I cried a little, but I knew that I had done quite right, that it was better for me to regulate my own affairs than to call upon the company commander to do so for me. I returned to the dining room, but soon there was a gentle knock on the door, and opening it, I saw Volmer standing in front of me, cap in hand, looking very meek and humble. Very respectfully he apologized, and expressed his regret at having offended me. That was very pleasant, but knowing the man's violent temper, and thinking of coming days, I proceeded to deliver a lecture to the effect that there was not another enlisted man in the regiment who would use such language in our house, or be so ungrateful for kindness that we had shown him. Above all, to make it unpleasant for me when I was alone.

I was so nervous, and talking to a soldier that way was so very disagreeable, I might have broken down and cried again—an awful thing to have done at that time—if I had not happened to have seen Hang's head sticking out at one side of his door. He had run to his room again, but could not resist keeping watch to see if Volmer was really intending to "killee" me. He is afraid of the soldier, and consequently hates him. Soon after he came, Volmer, who is a powerful man, tied him down to his bed with a picket rope, and such yells of fury and terror were never heard, and when I ran out to see what on earth was the matter, the Chinaman's eyes were green, and he was frothing at the mouth. For days after I was afraid that Hang would do some mischief to the man.

It is the striker's duty always to attend to the fires throughout the house, and this Volmer is doing very nicely. But when Faye went away he told Hang to take good care of me—so he, also, fixes the fires, and at the same time shows his dislike for Volmer, who will bring the big wood in and make the fires as they should be. Just as soon as he goes out, however, in marches Hang, with one or two small pieces of wood on his silk sleeve, and then, with much noise, he turns the wood in the stove upside down, and stirs things up generally, after which he will put in the little sticks and let it all roar until I am quite as stirred up as the fire. After he closes the dampers he will say to me in his most amiable squeak, "Me flixee him—he vellee glood now." This is all very nice as long as the house does not burn.

Night before last Mrs. Mills invited me to a family dinner. Colonel Mills was away, but Mr. Hughes was there, also Lieutenant Harvey to whom Miss Mills is engaged, and the three Mills boys, making a nice little party. But I felt rather sad—Faye was still en route to Washington, and going farther from home every hour, and it was impossible to tell when he would return, Mrs. Mills seemed distraite, too, when I first got to the house, but she soon brightened up and was as animated as ever. The dinner was perfect. Colonel Mills is quite an epicure, and he and Mrs. Mills have a reputation for serving choice and dainty things on their table. We returned to the little parlor after dinner, and were talking and laughing, when something went bang! like the hard shutting of a door.

Mrs. Mills jumped up instantly and exclaimed, "I knew it—I knew it!" and rushed to the back part of the house, the rest of us running after her. She went on through to the Chinaman's room, and there, on his cot, lay the little man, his face even then the color of old ivory. He had fired a small Derringer straight to his heart and was quite dead. I did not like to look at the dying man, so I ran for the doctor and almost bumped against him at the gate as he was passing. There was nothing that he could do, however.

Mrs. Mills told us that Sam had been an inveterate gambler—that he had won a great deal of money from the soldiers, particularly one, who had that very day threatened to kill him, accusing the Chinaman of having cheated. The soldier probably had no intention of doing anything of the kind, but said it to frighten the timid heathen, just for revenge. Sam had eaten a little dinner, and was eating ice-cream, evidently, when something or somebody made him go to his room and shoot himself. The next morning the Chinamen in the garrison buried him—not in the post cemetery, but just outside. Upon the grave they laid one or two suits of clothing, shoes—all Chinese, of course—and a great quantity of food—much of it their own fruits. That was for his spirit until it reached the Happy Land. The coyotes ate the food, but a Chinaman would never believe that, so more food was taken out this morning.

They are such a queer people! Hang's breakfast usually consists of a glass of cold water with two or three lumps of sugar dissolved in it and a piece of bread broken in it also. When it is necessary for Hang to be up late and do much extra work, I always give him a can of salmon, of which he seems very fond—or a chicken, and tell him to invite one or two friends to sit with him. This smooths away all little frowns and keeps things pleasant. Volmer killed the chicken once, and Hang brought it to me with eyes blazing—said it was poor—and "He ole-ee hin," so I found that the only way to satisfy the suspicious man was to let him select his own fowl. He always cooks it in the one way—boils it with Chinese fruits and herbs, and with the head and feet on—and I must admit that the odor is appetizing. But I have never tasted it, although Hang has never failed to save a nice piece for me. He was with Mrs. Pierce two years, and it was some time before I could convince him that this house was regulated my way and not hers. Major Pierce was promoted to another regiment and we miss them very much.

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1882.

THE garrison seems lonesome since the two companies have been out, and I am beginning to feel that I am at home alone quite too much. Faye was in Washington two months, and almost immediately after he got back he was ordered to command the paymaster's escort from Helena here, and now he is off again for the summer! The camp is on Birch Creek not far from the Piegan Agency. The agents become frightened every now and then, and ask for troops, more because they know the Indians would be justified in giving trouble than because there is any.

An officer is sent from the post to inspect all the cattle and rations that are issued to them—yet there is much cheating. Once it was discovered that a very inferior brand of flour was being given the Indians—that sacks with the lettering and marks of the brand the government was supposed to issue to them had been slipped over the sacks which really held the inferior flour, and carefully tied. Just imagine the trouble some one had taken, but there had been a fat reward, of course, and then, where had those extra sacks come from—where had the fine flour gone?

Some one could have explained it all. I must admit, however, that anyone who has seen an Indian use flour would say that the most inferior grade would be good enough for them, to be mixed in dirty old pans, with still dirtier hands. This lack of cleanliness and appreciation of things by the Indians makes stealing from them very tempting.

The very night after the troops had gone out there was an excitement in the garrison, and, as usual, I was mixed up in it, not through my own choosing, however. I had been at Mrs. Palmer's playing whist during the evening, and about eleven o'clock two of the ladies came down to the house with me. The night was the very darkest I ever saw, and of this we spoke as we came along the walk. Almost all the lights were out in the officers' quarters, making the whole post seem dismal, and as I came in the house and locked the door, I felt as if I could never remain here until morning. Hang was in his room, of course but would be no protection whatever if anything should happen.

Major and Mrs. Stokes have not yet returned from the East, so the adjoining house is unoccupied, and on my right is Mrs. Norton, who is alone also, as Doctor Norton is in camp with the troops. She had urged me to go to her house for the night, but I did not go, because of the little card party. I ran upstairs as though something evil was at my heels and bolted my door, but did not fasten the dormer windows that run out on the roof in front. Before retiring, I put a small, lighted lantern in a closet and left the door open just a little, thinking that the streak of light would be cheering and the lantern give me a light quickly if I should need one.

Our breakfast had been very early that morning, on account of the troops marching, and I was tired and fell asleep immediately, I think. After a while I was conscious of hearing some one walking about in the room corresponding to mine in the next house, but I dozed on, thinking to myself that there was no occasion for feeling nervous, as the people next door were still up. But suddenly I remembered that the house was closed, and just then I distinctly heard some one go down the stairs. I kept very still and listened, but heard nothing more and soon went to sleep again, but again I was awakened—this time by queer noises—like some one walking on a roof. There were voices, too, as if some one was mumbling to himself.

I got the revolver and ran to the middle of the room, where I stood ready to shoot or run—it would probably have been run—in any direction. I finally got courage to look through a side window, feeling quite sure that Mrs. Norton was out with her Chinaman, looking after some choice little chickens left in her care by the doctor. But not one light was to be seen in any place, and the inky blackness was awful to look upon, so I turned away, and just as I did so, something cracked and rattled down over the shingles and then fell to the ground. But which roof those sounds came from was impossible to tell. With "goose flesh" on my arms, and each hair on my head trying to stand up, I went back to the middle of the room, and there I stood, every nerve quivering.

I had been standing there hours—or possibly it was only two short minutes—when there was one loud, piercing shriek, that made me almost scream, too. But after it was perfect silence, so I said to myself that probably it had been a cat—that I was nervous and silly. But there came another shriek, another, and still another, so expressive of terror that the blood almost froze in my veins. With teeth chattering and limbs shaking so I could hardly step, I went to a front window, and raising it I screamed, "Corporal of the guard!"

I saw the sentinel at the guardhouse stop, as though listening, in front of a window where there was a light, and seeing one of the guard gave strength to my voice, and I called again. That time the sentry took it up, and yelled, "Corporal of the guard, No. 1!" Instantly lanterns were seen coming in our direction—ever so many of the guard came, and to our gate as they saw me at a window. But I sent them on to the next house where they found poor Mrs. Norton in a white heap on the grass, quite unconscious.

The officer of the day was still up and came running to see what the commotion was about—and several other officers came. Colonel Gregory, a punctilious gentleman of the old school—who is in command just now—appeared in a striking costume, consisting of a skimpy evening gown of white, a dark military blouse over that, and a pair of military riding boots, and he carried an unsheathed saber. He is very tall and thin and his hair is very white, and I laugh now when I think of how funny he looked. But no one thought of laughing at that time. Mrs. Norton was carried in, and her house searched throughout. No one was found, but burned matches were on the floor of one or two rooms, which gave evidence that some one had been there.

In the yard back of the house a pair of heavy overshoes, also government socks, were found, so it was decided that the man had climbed up on the roof and entered the house through a dormer window that had not been fastened. No one would look for the piece of shingle that night, but in the morning I found it on the ground close to the house.

All the time the search was being made I had been in the window. Colonel Mills insisted that I should go to his house for the remainder of the night, but suggested that I put some clothes on first! It occurred to me then, for the first time, that my own costume was rather striking—not quite the proper thing for a balcony scene. Everyone was more than kind, but for a long time after Miss Mills and I had gone to her room my teeth chattered and big tears rolled down my face. Mrs. Norton declares that I was more frightened than she was, and I say, "Yes, probably, but you did not stop to listen to your own horrible screams, and then, after making us believe that you were being murdered, you quietly dropped into oblivion and forgot the whole thing."

Just as the entire garrison had become quiet once more—bang! went a gun, and then again we heard people running about to see what was the matter, and if the burglar had been caught. But it proved to have been the accidental going off of a rifle at the guardhouse. The instant that Colonel Gregory ascertained that a soldier had really been in Mrs. Norton's house, check roll-call was ordered—that is, the officer of the day went to the different barracks and ordered the first sergeants to get the men up and call the roll at once, without warning or preparation. In that way it was ascertained if the men were on their cots or out of quarters. But that night every man was "present or accounted for." At the hospital, roll-call was not necessary, but they found an attendant playing possum! A lantern held close to his face did not waken him, although it made his eyelids twitch, and they found that his heart was beating at a furious rate. His clothes had been thrown down on the floor, but socks were not to be found with them.

So he is the man suspected.. He will get his discharge in three days, and it is thought that he was after a suit of citizen clothes of the doctor's. Not so very long ago he was their striker. No one in the garrison has ever heard of an enlisted man troubling the quarters of an officer, and it is something that rarely occurs. I spend every night with Mrs. Norton now, who seems to have great confidence in my ability to protect her, as I can use a revolver so well. She calmly sleeps on, while I remain awake listening for footsteps. The fact of my having been at a military post when it was attacked by Indians—that a man was murdered directly under my window, when I heard every shot, every moan—and my having had two unpleasant experiences with horse thieves, has not been conducive to normal nerves after dark.

During all the commotion at Mrs. Norton's the night the man got in her house, her Chinaman did not appear. One of the officers went to his room in search of the burglar and found him—the Chinaman—sitting up in his bed, almost white from fear. He confessed to having heard some one in the kitchen, and when asked why he did not go out to see who it was, indignantly replied, "What for?—he go way, what for I see him?"

I feel completely upset without a good saddle horse. George is developing quite a little speed in single harness, but I do not care for driving—feel too much as though I was part of the little buggy instead of the horse. Major and Mrs. Stokes are expected soon from the East, and I shall be so glad to have my old neighbors back.

CAMP ON BIRCH CREEK, NEAR PIEGAN AGENCY, MONTANA TERRITORY, September, 1882.

BY this time you must have become accustomed to getting letters from all sorts of out-of-the-way places, therefore I will not weary you with long explanations, but simply say that Major Stokes and Faye sent for Mrs. Stokes and me to come to camp, thinking to give us a pleasant little outing. We came over with the paymaster and his escort. Major Carpenter seemed delighted to have us with him, and naturally Mrs. Stokes and I were in a humor to enjoy everything. We brought a nice little luncheon with us for everybody—that is, everyone in the ambulance. The escort of enlisted men were in a wagon back of us, but the officer in charge was with us.

The Indians have quieted down, and several of the officers have gone on leave, so with the two companies now here there are only Major Stokes, who is in command, Faye, Lieutenant Todd, and Doctor Norton. Mrs. Stokes has seen much of camp life, and enjoys it now and then as much as I do. The importance of our husbands as hosts—their many efforts to make us comfortable and entertain us—is amusing, yet very lovely. They give us no rest whatever, but as soon as we return from one little excursion another is immediately proposed. There is a little spring wagon in camp with two seats, and there are two fine mules to pull it, and with this really comfortable turn-out we drive about the country. Major Stokes is military inspector of supplies at this agency, and every Piegan knows him, so when we meet Indians, as we do often, there is always a powwow.

Three days ago we packed the little wagon with wraps and other things, and Major and Mrs. Stokes, Faye, and I started for a two days' outing at a little lake that is nestled far up on the side of a mountain. It is about ten miles from here. There is only a wagon trail leading to it, and as you go on up and up, and see nothing but rocks and trees, it would never occur to you that the steep slope of the mountain could be broken, that a lake of good size could be hidden on its side. You do not get a glimpse of it once, until you drive between the bushes and boulders that border its banks, and then it is all before you in amazing beauty. The reflections are wonderful, the high lights showing with exquisite sharpness against the dark green and purple depths of the clear, spring water.

The lake is fearfully deep—the Indians insist that in places it is bottomless—and it is teeming with trout, the most delicious mountain trout that can be caught any place, and which come up so cold one can easily fancy there is an iceberg somewhere down below. Some of these fish are fourteen or more inches long.

It was rather late in the afternoon when we reached the lake, so we hurriedly got ourselves ready for fishing, for we were thinking of a trout dinner. Four enlisted men had followed us with a wagon, in which were our tents, bedding, and boxes of provisions, and these men busied themselves at once by putting up the little tents and making preparations for dinner, and we were anxious to get enough fish for their dinner as well as our own. At a little landing we found two row-boats, and getting in these we were soon out on the lake.

If one goes to Fish Lake just for sport, and can be contented with taking in two or three fish during an all day's hard work, flies should be used always, but if one gets up there when the shadows are long and one's dinner is depending upon the fish caught, one might as well begin at once with grasshoppers—at least, that is what I did. I carried a box of fine yellow grasshoppers up with me, and I cast one over before the boat had fairly settled in position. It was seized the instant it had touched the water, and down, down went the trout, its white sides glistening through the clear water. For some reason still unaccountable I let it go, and yard after yard of line was reeled out. Perhaps, after all, it was fascination that kept me from stopping the plunge of the fish, that never stopped until the entire line was let out. That brought me to my senses, and I reeled the fish up and got a fine trout, but I also got at the same time an uncontrollable longing for land. To be in a leaky, shaky old boat over a watery, bottomless pit, as the one that trout had been down in, was more than I could calmly endure, so with undisguised disgust Faye rowed me back to the landing, where I caught quite as many fish as anyone out in the boats.

One of the enlisted men prepared dinner for us, and fried the trout in olive oil, the most perfect way of cooking mountain trout in camp. They were delicious—so fresh from the icy water that none of their delicate flavor had been lost, and were crisp and hot. We had cups of steaming coffee and all sorts of nice things from the boxes we had brought from the post. A flat boulder made a grand table for us, and of course each one had his little camp stool to sit upon. Altogether the dinner was a success, the best part of it being, perhaps, the exhilarating mountain air that gave us such fine appetites, and a keen appreciation of everything ludicrous.

While we were fishing, our tents had been arranged for us in real soldier fashion. Great bunches of long grass had been piled up on each side underneath the little mattresses, which raised the beds from the ground and made them soft and springy. Those "A" tents are very small and low, and it is impossible to stand up in one except in the center under the ridgepole, for the canvas is stretched from the ridgepole to the ground, so the only walls are back and front, where there is an opening. I had never been in one before and was rather appalled at its limitations, and neither had I ever slept on the ground before, but I had gone prepared for a rough outing. Besides, I knew that everything possible had been done to make Mrs. Stokes and me comfortable. The air was chilly up on the mountain, but we had any number of heavy blankets that kept us warm.

The night was glorious with brilliant moonlight, and the shadows of the pine trees on the white canvas were black and wonderfully clear cut, as the wind swayed the branches back and forth. The sounds of the wind were dismal, soughing and moaning as all mountain winds do, and made me think of the Bogy-man and other things. I found myself wondering if anything could crawl under the tent at my side. I wondered if snakes could have been brought in with the grass. I imagined that I heard things moving about, but all the time I was watching those exquisite shadows of the pine needles in a dreamy sort of way.

Then all at once I saw the shadow of one, then three, things as they ran up the canvas and darted this way and that like crazy things, and which could not possibly have grown on a pine tree. And almost at the same instant, something pulled my hair! With a scream and scramble I was soon out of that tent, but of course when I moved all those things had moved, too, and wholly disappeared. So I was called foolish to be afraid in a tent after the weeks and months I had lived in camp. But just then Mrs. Stokes ran from her tent, Major Stokes slowly following, and then it came out that there had been trouble over there also, and that I was not the only one in disgrace. Mrs. Stokes had seen queer shadows on her canvas, and coming to me, said, "Will says those things are squirrels!" That was too much, and I replied with indignation, "They are not squirrels at all; they are too small and their tails are not bushy."

Well, there was a time! We refused absolutely, positively, to go back to our tents until we knew all about those darting shadows. We saw that those two disagreeable men had an understanding with each other and were much inclined to laugh. It was cold and our wrappers not very warm, but Mrs. Stokes and I finally sat down upon some camp stools to await events. Then Faye, who can never resist an opportunity to tease, said to me, "You had better take care, mice might run up that stool!" So the cat was out! I have never been afraid of mice, and have always considered it very silly in women to make such a fuss over them. But those field mice were different; they seemed inclined to take the very hair from your head. Of course we could not sit up all night, and after a time had to return to our tents. I wrapped my head up securely, so my hair could not be carried off without my knowing something about it. Ever so many times during the night I heard talking and smothered laughter, and concluded that the soldiers also were having small visitors with four swift little legs.

We had more delicious trout for our breakfast; that time fried with tiny strips of breakfast bacon. The men had been out on the lake very early, and had caught several dozen beautiful fish. The dinner the evening before had been much like an ordinary picnic, but the early breakfast up on the side of a mountain, with big boulders all around, was something to remember. One can never imagine the deliciousness of the air at sunrise up on the Rocky Mountains, It has to be breathed to be appreciated.

Everyone fished during the morning and many fish were caught, every one of which were carefully packed in wet grass and brought to Birch Creek, to the unfortunates who had not been on that most delightful trip to Fish Lake. After luncheon we came down from the mountain and drove to the Piegan Agency. The heavy wagon came directly to camp, of course. There is nothing remarkable to be seen at the agency—just a number of ordinary buildings, a few huts, and Indians standing around the door of a store that resembles a post trader's. Every Indian had on a blanket, although Major Stokes said there were several among them who had been to the Carlisle School.

Along the road before we reached the agency, and for some distance after we had left it, we passed a number of little one-room log huts occupied by Indians, often with two squaws and large families of children; and at some of these we saw wretched attempts at gardening. Those Indians are provided with plows, spades, and all sorts of implements necessary for the making of proper gardens, and they are given grain and seeds to plant, but seldom are any of these things made use of. An Indian scorns work of any kind—that is only for squaws. The squaws will scratch up a bit of ground with sticks, put a little seed in, and then leave it for the sun and rain to do with as it sees fit. No more attention will be paid to it, and half the time the seed is not covered.