Dakota Indians -- Wars, 1876 -- Fiction; Little Bighorn, Battle of the, Mont., 1876 -- Fiction; Western stories
"Such a pleasure to meet you," exclaimed Miss Spencer, her eyes
uplifted shyly, only to become at once modestly shaded behind their
long lashes. "Do you know, Lieutenant, that actually I have never
before had the privilege of meeting an officer of the army. Why, we in
the East scarcely realize that we possess such a body of brave men.
But I have read much regarding the border, and all the dreams of my
girlhood seem on the point of realization since I came here and began
mingling in its free, wild life. Your appearance supplies the one
touch of color that was lacking to make the picture complete. Mr.
Moffat has done so much to make me realize the breadth of Western
experience, and now, I do so hope, you will some time find opportunity
to recount to me some of your army exploits."
The lieutenant smiled. "Most gladly; yet just now, I confess, the
music invites me, and I am sufficiently bold to request your company
upon the floor."
Miss Spencer sighed regretfully, her eyes sweeping across those
numerous manly faces surrounding them. "Why, really, Lieutenant Brant,
I scarcely see how I possibly can. I have already refused so many this
evening, and even now I almost believe I must be under direct
obligation to some one of those gentlemen. Still," hesitatingly, "your
being a total stranger here must be taken into consideration. Mr.
Moffat, Mr. McNeil, Mr. Mason, surely you will grant me release this
once?"
There was no verbal response to the appeal, only an uneasy movement;
but her period of waiting was extremely brief.
"Oh, I knew you would; you have all been so kind and considerate." She
arose, resting her daintily gloved hand upon Brant's blue sleeve, her
pleased eyes smiling up confidingly into his. Then with a charming
smile, "Oh, Mr. Wynkoop, I have decided to claim your escort to supper.
You do not care?"
Wynkoop bowed, his face like a poppy.
"I thought you would not mind obliging me in this. Come, Lieutenant."
Miss Spencer, when she desired to be, was a most vivacious companion,
and always an excellent dancer. Brant easily succumbed to her sway,
and became, for the time being, a victim to her charms. They circled
the long room twice, weaving their way skilfully among the numerous
couples, forgetful of everything but the subtile intoxication of that
swinging cadence to which their feet kept such perfect time,
occasionally exchanging brief sentences in which compliment played no
insignificant part. To Brant, as he marked the heightened color
flushing her fair cheeks, the experience brought back fond memories of
his last cadet ball at the Point, and he hesitated to break the mystic
spell with abrupt questioning. Curiosity, however, finally mastered
his reticence.
"Miss Spencer," he asked, "may I inquire if you possess such a
phenomenon as a 'star' pupil?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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