Maynard and Jennie were not as deeply interested in the camp as they had given out to be at starting. He was recalling to her mind some of the parties they had attended together at Fort Sibley. "Really, Captain Maynard," she was saying, as they rode up, "you would have it appear that we saw a great deal of each other in those days." "That's my contention entirely," he replied, "and it is my _in_tention to continue this Indian outbreak indefinitely in order to go into cantonment here." "You always were susceptible to good dinners, Captain Maynard." "Say good company, and you'll be right entirely." Curtis, having caught Maynard's last remark, called out in the biting tone of the upper classman at West Point. "Are you on special duty, Captain Maynard, or riding in the park?" He saluted imperturbably. "By good luck I am doing both, at your service." "Merely cast your eye around so that you can report the Tetongs peaceful and in camp, then you may ride where you please." Maynard swept his eyes over the village. "It is done! Now, Miss Curtis, let's try for the top of that hill?" "No, no, you have been riding all night." "Why, so I have! In the charm of your presence I'd forgotten it. I'm supposed to be fagged." "You don't look it," remarked Curtis, humorously, running his eyes over the burly figure before him. "At the same time, I think you'd better return. Your commissariat wagons will be rumbling in soon." Maynard again saluted. "Very well, 'Major,' it shall be so," and, wheeling his horse in such wise as to turn Jennie's pony, they galloped off together, leaving Curtis and Elsie to follow. "It's hard to realize that disaster came so near to us," he said, musingly, and Elsie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the hills. "There is a wonderful charm in this dry country! I have never seen such blinding sunshine. But life must be difficult here." "You begin to feel that? I expect to stay here at least five years, providing I am not removed." She shuddered perceptibly. "Five years is a long time to give out of one's life--with so little to show for it." He hesitated a moment, then said, with deep feeling, "It's hard, it's lonely, but, after all, it has its compensations. I can see results. The worst side of it all is--I can never ask any woman to share such a life with me. I feel guilty when I consider Jennie--she ought to have a home of her own; she has no outlook here." She looked straight ahead as she replied. "You would find life here intolerable without her." "I know it; but in my best moments I realize how selfish it is in me to keep her." "Suppose you were to resign, what would you do?" "I would try to secure a chance at some field-work for the Ethnologic Bureau. It doesn't pay very well, but it would be congenial, and my proficiency in the sign language would, I think, make me valuable. I have determined never to go back to garrison life without some special duty to occupy my mind."