The Gray Fox had returned to his own. The general commanding the department was spending a month at head-quarters--for him, who loved the mountains and the field, a most unusual thing. The wild tribes of Arizona, with the exception of one specially exempted band of Chiricahuas and a few hopeless desperadoes with a price on their heads, were gathered to their reservations--a most unheard-of thing in all previous annals of the territory--and a season of unprecedented gayety had dawned on the post of Fort Whipple and the adjacent martial settlement, the homes of the staff and their families. The general and his good wife, childless, and boundless in their hospitality, had opened their doors to army wayfarers. New officers were there from 'Frisco and the States. Matrons and young women, new to Arizona, had come to enliven the once isolated posts of the desert and mountain. Major Dennis, of one supply department, was accompanied by a young and lovely and lively wife, who danced, if Dennis did not. Major Prime, of another, had recently been joined by his wife and two daughters, bright, vivacious girls, just out of school and into society, and, perhaps most important of all, Colonel and Mrs. Darrah, of the Infantry, had come, accompanied by their daughter Evelyn, as beautiful and dashing a belle as had ever bewildered the bachelors about the Golden Gate, and from every camp or post within a hundred miles or more junior officers had been called in to Prescott, on "Board," court-martial duty or leave, until nearly a dozen were gathered, and while boards and courts dragged their slow length, and maps, reports and records of the recent campaign were being laboriously yawned over at odd intervals during the sunshiny days, far more thought and time and attention were being given to riding, driving, tramping and picnic parties--even croquet coming in for honorable mention--while every night had its "hop" and some nights their ball that lasted well toward morning, and for the first time in its history "head-quarters" was actually gay. Time had been in the recent past when a Fort Whipple hop consisted, as said a cynical chief commissary, in "putting on full uniform and watching Thompson dance a waltz," there being then but one officer at the station equipped with the requisite accomplishment. Now there were more dancers than girl partners. The latter were in their glory, and the married women in clover. "_Let_ them have a good time," said the chief, when his pragmatical adjutant would have suggested sending some of them back to their posts to finish maps and reports they were only neglecting here. "But they'll be getting impatient at division head-quarters," said the man of tape and rule. It was a whip which often told on department commanders, but not on Crook. "_Let_ them have a good time. Every one of those youngsters has been scouting and fighting and living on bacon and beans for the last six months, and