In front of the officers’ quarters children were playing. On the veranda of Colonel Grayson’s house was a little group of ladies. Grayson, the colonel in command of the post, was just climbing the veranda steps to Mrs. Colonel, in command of the colonel. The colonel was hot and dusty, but he slapped his clothes in a good-natured way and plumped down in an easy chair. “What do you think of it, Miss Dauntless?” he asked, his eyes wandering to one of the group of young women who surrounded his wife. “Fine!” cried the girl addressed. “Such a sight makes one proud to think that he or she is an American. Oh, I wish I were a man! I’d be a soldier, sure thing.” “My dear Dell!” breathed Mrs. Colonel, horrified. “What are you saying?” “Tut, tut!” said the colonel. “Why shouldn’t she wish to be a soldier? I’m a soldier, and I take it as an honor that such a pretty American girl should envy me.” “You know what I mean, colonel,” cried Mrs. Colonel. “Such a pretty girl as Dell Dauntless ought to be content with her sex.” “Gad, yes!” exclaimed the colonel. “Dell can do more havoc with those blue eyes of hers than a whole squadron with sabers.” “Now it’s my turn to say ‘tut, tut!’” flashed Dell Dauntless, with a dazzling smile. “I’m the sort of girl that clamors for action, colonel.” She looked off through the clear evening to where some of the officers and some of the post young ladies were thumping a ball over a net with rackets. “For instance”--and she waved her hand toward the tennis-court--“I couldn’t be _hired_ to play that.” “Don’t blame you,” chuckled the colonel; “I couldn’t be hired to play it myself.” “You’re too fat, dad,” laughed his daughter Mamie. “Fat! And I only weigh two hundred. If you can catch a man of my size, miss, you can be thankful.” “There’s going to be a hop to-night,” went on Mrs. Colonel, “and I’ve been trying to get Dell to say she’ll go.” “Dancing is also off my sky-line,” explained Dell calmly. “I didn’t bring any clothes for that sort of thing, anyhow. Look at me!” and she stood out in front of the colonel. “I’d be a fright on a ballroom floor, wouldn’t I?” The colonel did look at her, and there was admiration in his eyes. Tall, lithe, and fair-haired, the girl was clad in her fringed and beaded buckskin shirt, knee-length buckskin skirt, tan shoes and leggings, and a rakish little brown sombrero. She wore about her waist the belt with the diminutive revolver-holsters and a knife-sheath swinging from it. The pearl handle of a knife showed over the top of the sheath, but the holsters were empty, Dell having laid aside the six-shooters out of regard for Mrs. Colonel’s feelings.