Another day brought with it a strong column of cavalry hastening up from the railway at Cheyenne, and these troops were to be fully provided with rations and ammunition before setting forth toward the Black Hills, whither they were ordered. It was bustle and business for everybody. The major said no more to Hatton on the subject of the interrupted interview; but on the second day, as McLean was lying languidly in his bed, listening to the sounds of hoofs and heels without, and bemoaning his fate that he was to be bedridden here when such stirring times were ahead, his soldier servant came noiselessly to ask the lieutenant's permission to step out a little while to see some friends in the cavalry. The attendant was seated in the front room, so the permission was readily granted. "Is there anything the lieutenant wants, sir, before I go?" "Nothing except a handkerchief. Give me one of those silk ones in this corner of the drawer. They are softer." The man handed the topmost of the pile, and went noiselessly away. McLean shook it open, and a card dropped out upon the coverlet. Surprised, he picked it up and slowly read it, perplexity and then symptoms of annoyance showing plainly in his face. Twice--thrice he read it through. Then, stowing it under his pillow, he began to think. Dr. Weeks came in before a great while to renew the dressing on his wound, and asked him if he had not been talking too much. "I haven't been talking at all. Why do you ask?" "Pulse a little quicker than it was. What have you been doing?" "Nothing--to speak of. What is there to do but read and think?" "You mustn't get to fretting because you can't go out with every expedition, Mac. We all know you'd like it, but you can't have your pie and eat it. You can't get shot in one fight and expect to get into the next. If you'll keep quiet here, I think I can put you in saddle again in a month,--much quicker than I can poor Blunt; but you must be patient, especially now that you'll miss Hatton. He goes out with the train-guard to-night." "Hatton! To-night?" exclaimed the invalid. "There you go again, Mac! What a bundle of tow you are, to be sure; I might just as soon touch a match to a magazine." "Doctor, tell Hatton I want him,--must see him before he goes." "Confound it, man, I told him to keep away. Why do you want him?" "_Because I must_ see him. You'll have a crazy man on your hands if you don't." And Weeks decided it best to let this headstrong Highlander have his way. That night, in his field-dress and all ready to start, Hatton gently came to his comrade's bed-side. "What is it, old man?" he asked. "Weeks told me first to slip away without saying good-by,--I'll only be gone a week,--and then hunted me up and said you wanted to see me." McLean looked out in the front room. "Send that man away for a while," he said. "Now for it," groaned Hatton, between his teeth. "Something new, and he's got hold of it. How in heaven am I to keep my story to myself?"