"Why, Mr. Hayne, there is not a vacant set of quarters in the garrison. You will _have_ to move some one out if you decide to live alone." "There may be no quarters _in_ the post, sir, but, if you will permit me, I can live near my company and yet in officers' quarters." "How so, sir?" "In the house out there on the edge of the garrison, facing the prairie. It is within stone's-throw of the barracks of Company B, and is exactly like those built for the officers in here along the parade." "Why, Mr. Hayne, no officers ever lived there. It is utterly out of the way and isolated. I believe it was built for the sutler years ago, but was bought in by the government afterwards.--Who lives there now, Mr. Quartermaster?" "No one, sir. It is being used as a tailors' shop; half a dozen of the company tailors work there; but I can send them back to their own barracks. The house is in good repair, and, as Mr. Hayne says, exactly like those built for officers' use." "And you mean you want to live there, alone, Mr. Hayne?" "I do, sir,--exactly." The colonel turned sharply to his desk once more. The strained silence continued a moment. Then he faced his officers: "Mr. Hayne, will you remain a few moments? I wish to speak with you.--Gentlemen, that is all this morning." And so the meeting adjourned. While many of the cavalry officers strolled into the neighboring club-and reading-room, it was noticed that their comrades of the infantry lost no time at intermediate points, but took the shortest road to the row of brown cottages known as the officers' quarters. The feeling of constraint that had settled upon all was still apparent in the group that entered the club-room, and for a moment no one spoke. There was a general settling into easy-chairs and picking up of newspapers without reference to age or date. No one seemed to want to say anything, and yet every one felt it necessary to have some apparent excuse for becoming absorbed in other matters. This was so evident to Lieutenant Blake that he speedily burst into a laugh,--the first that had been heard,--and when two or three heads popped out from behind their printed screens to inquire into the cause of his mirth, that light-hearted gentleman was seen sprawling his long legs apart and gazing out of the window after the groups of infantrymen. "What do you see that's so intensely funny?" growled one of the elders among the dragoons. "Nothing, old mole,--nothing," said Blake, turning suddenly about. "It looks too much like a funeral procession for fun. What I'm chuckling at is the absurdity of our coming in here like so many mutes in weepers. It's none of _our_ funeral." "Strikes me the situation is damned awkward," growled "the mole" again. "Here's a fellow comes in who's cut by his regiment and has placed ours under lasting obligation before he gets inside the post."