"Major," said he, "I didn't use to take much stock in special
Providence, or things being ordered; but I'm darned if I don't believe
in them from this day. I was bound to stay where you put me, but I was
uneasy, and wild to be in the scrimmage; and, if I had been there, I
wouldn't have taken notice of a little red light that wasn't much
behind the rear platform when we stopped. When I saw there was no danger
there, I ran back, and what do you think I found? There was a woman, in
a dead faint, and just clutching a lantern that she had tied up in a red
scarf, poor little thing! And, Major, it was Sally! It was the little
girl that loved me out at Barker's, and has loved me and waited for me
ever since! And when she came to, and knew me, she was so glad she 'most
fainted away again; and she let on as it was her that gave away the job.
And I took her into the sleeper, and the madam, God bless her!--she knew
Sally before and was good to her--she took care of her, and is cheering
her up. And now, Major, I'm going to take her straight to Denver, and
send for a parson and get her married to me, and she'll brace up, sure
pop."

The whistle sounded, and the train started. From the window of the
"sleeper" Sinclair and his wife took their last look at the weird scene.
The lieutenant, standing at the side of the track, wrapped in his cloak,
caught a glimpse of Mrs. Sinclair's pretty face, and returned her bow.
Then, as the car passed out of sight, he tugged at his mustache and
hummed:

"Why, boys, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys,
Whose business 'tis to die?"

In less than an hour, telegrams having in the mean time been sent in