You boarded this train at a station in Kentucky, either the nearest or
among the nearest to Pendleton. A resemblance, real or fancied, has
caused me to notice you closely."

The man was looking at him with frank blue eyes set well apart, and
Harry saw no need of concealing his identity.

"My name is Kenton, Henry Kenton--though people generally call me
Harry--and I live at Pendleton in Kentucky," he replied.

Now the smile of Leonidas Talbot, late colonel U. S. A., became rarely
sweet.

"I should have guessed it," he said. "The place where you joined us and
the strong resemblance should have made me know. You must be the son of
Colonel George Kenton."

"Yes," said Harry.

"Then, young sir, let me shake your hand."

His manner seemed so warm and natural that Harry held out his hand,
and Colonel Talbot gave it a strong clasp.

"Your father and I have served together," he said. "We were in the
same class at West Point, and we fought in the same command against the
Indians on the plains. I saw him again at Cerro Gordo, and we were side
by side at Contreras, Molino del Rey, and the storming of Chapultepec.
He left the service some time after we came back from Mexico, but I
remained in it, until--recent events. It is fitting that I should meet