"Why not, my boy?" pleaded Ransom. "Papa won't mind, when you tell him it was old Uncle Hal. That's what they call me." A lump rose in the youngster's throat. His head went lower. "It--it's mamma wouldn't like it," he finally said; and just then, with rush and sputter of hoofs, two officers came trotting around the corner, threw themselves from their saddles, pounced upon their comrade, and overwhelmed him with joyous greeting. Another minute and others arrived, and between them all he was led away up the street. While some of the children confidently followed, two remained behind--little Snow-drop, refusing to be comforted, was applying the back of her mittened hand to her weeping eyes, and turning a deaf ear to her manful brother, who was vainly striving to explain matters. "Maudie Carleton's crying because Phil wouldn't take the money and get her some goodies," said little Jack Wilkins, in an opportune pause. "Who did you say?" asked Ransom, turning suddenly, and looking inquiringly at his friends. There was an instant of embarrassment. Then one of the officers replied, "Maud Carleton, Ransom. Those are poor Phil Carleton's little ones." "Wait for me at the office, fellows; I'll be along in a minute," was the response; and the captain went striding back to the Bald Eagle. It was an old story in the cavalry. Very few there were who knew not that Captain Ransom was a hard-hit man when Kate Perry--the beauty of her father's regiment--came back from school, and with all the wealth of her grace and loveliness and winning ways, refusing to see how she had impressed one or two "solid" men of the garrison, fell rapturously in love with Philip Carleton, the handsome, dashing scapegrace of the subalterns. It was "hard lines" for old Colonel Perry; it would have been misery to her devoted mother; but she was spared it all--the grass had been growing for years over her distant grave. [Illustration: "'COME, JACK,' SAID THE CAPTAIN, REASSURINGLY."]