The ranch is still there, or was twenty years ago, but even then the Sioux were said to raise more hair in the neighborhood than Folsom did cattle. The old trader had been gathered to his fathers, and Mrs. Hal to hers, for she broke down utterly after the events of '68. Neither Pappoose nor Jessie cared to revisit the spot for some time, yet, oddly enough, both have done so more than once. The first time its chronicler ever saw it was in company with a stalwart young captain of horse and his dark-eyed, beautiful wife nine years after the siege. Hal met us, a shy, silent fellow, despite his inches. "Among other things," said he, "Lieutenant and Mrs. Loomis are coming next week. I wish you might all be here to meet them." "I know," said Mrs. Dean, "we are to meet at Cheyenne. But, Hal, where's your wife?" He looked shyer still. "She don't like to meet folks unless----" "There's no unless about it," said the lady with all her old decision as she sprang from the ambulance, and presently reappeared, leading by the hand, reluctant, yet not all unhappy, Lizette. Some people said Hal Folsom had no business to marry an Indian girl before his wife was dead three years, but all who knew Lizette said he did perfectly right, at least Pappoose did, and that settled it. As for Loring--But that's enough for one story. THE END.