He pulled his fierce, gray moustache in doubt, looking at me as if mine were the most unwelcome face that ever met his gaze. Presently he beckoned the doctor to the door, and they whispered together there for a few moments. Then he returned to me. "You have in reality a bad ankle, the doctor says, and he is inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt," he said, "and so am I. At any rate, we will not treat you badly, though we may be forced to keep you as a guest for a little while." I thanked him for his gracious consideration. "We are compelled to keep you locked in to-night," he continued, "but we may be able to do better for you in the morning." "Very well," I said, with some impatience. "Keep me locked in if you choose, but at any rate let me sleep." I thought his rough treatment of me offset the favor I had owed him. Moreover, I was very tired and sleepy, and the obligation of politeness seemed to rest upon me no longer. The doctor folded his notes and handed them to the colonel, who placed them carefully in an inside pocket. Then they bowed stiffly, and went out, locking the door as usual. I looked out through my window. The moon was rising above the mountains. In the valley the foliage was tipped with silver. The bubbles on the river, fire-color at set of sun, had turned to silver now. Nothing seemed to stir; all was peace. Wondering what would be the end of my strange adventure, I lay down on the bed, and in five minutes forgot wonder and all other things in a deep sleep. I might have slept all the next day too, but I was awakened by a good shaking at the hands of Crothers, and found the room full of light. Crothers was standing beside me. He was a sour-faced fellow, but he seemed to be less hostile that morning, and I asked him cheerfully if he was going to bring me my breakfast. He said no, but told me I was invited to the colonel's own table. "It's Miss Grace who did it," he said. "She didn't think the colonel was treating you just right." "Miss Grace is the colonel's daughter, is she not?" I asked. "Yes." I was sure that the girl I had seen in the court the evening before was Grace Hetherill. This invitation looked promising. The colonel would surely come to his senses now and act like a man who knew it was the year of our Lord 1896, and not 1864. As there was to be a lady present, I asked for a bath and comb and brush, as I wished to make myself very spruce. All these I obtained, finding that the fort was not without its comforts. Then, Crothers still my escort and guide, I went to the breakfast-table. I was not prepared for the scene of comfort, even luxury, that met me in the dining-room. Yet I was not astonished. The presence of a cultivated young woman in the year 1896 is responsible for much. It was a large apartment, decorated with horns and antlers and some fine old silver-bound drinking-cups of a past age. But I had little time for inspection. The table was set, and the company was waiting.