From behind the counter Mary Cahill heard him in horror. Second
Lieutenants Crosby and Curtis shuddered. They were sons of officers
of the regular army. Only six months before they themselves had been
forwarded from West Point, done up in neat new uniforms. The
traditions of the Academy of loyalty and discipline had been kneaded
into their vertebrae. In Ranson they saw only the horrible result of
giving commissions to civilians.

"Maybe the post will be gayer now that spring has come," said Curtis
hopefully, but with a doubtful look at the open fire.

"I wouldn't do anything rash," urged Crosby.

Miss Cahill shook her head. "Why, I like it at the post," she said,
"and I've been here five years--ever since I left the convent--and I-
--"

Ranson interrupted, bowing gallantly. "Yes, I know, Miss Cahill," he
said, "but I didn't come here from a convent. I came here from the
blood-stained fields of war. Now, out in the Philippines there's
always something doing. They give you half a troop, and so long as
you bring back enough Mausers and don't get your men cut up, you can
fight all over the shop and no questions asked. But all I do here is
take care of sick horses. Any vet. in the States has seen as much
fighting as I have in the last half-year. I might as well have had
charge of horse-car stables."

"There is some truth in that," said Curtis cautiously. "If you do
resign, certainly no one can accuse you of resigning in the face of