she knew more of what was going forward than did the regimental
adjutant, more even than did the colonel's wife. If Trumpeter Tyler
flatted on church call, if Mrs. Stickney applied to the quartermaster
for three feet of stovepipe, if Lieutenant Curtis were granted two
days' leave for quail-shooting, Mary Cahill knew it; and if Mrs.
"Captain" Stairs obtained the post-ambulance for a drive to Kiowa
City, when Mrs. "Captain" Ross wanted it for a picnic, she knew what
words passed between those ladies, and which of the two wept. She
knew all of these things, for each evening they were retailed to her
by her "boarders." Her boarders were very loyal to Mary Cahill. Her
position was a difficult one, and had it not been that the boy-
officers were so understanding, it would have been much more
difficult. For the life of a regimental post is as circumscribed as
the life on a ship-of-war, and it would no more be possible for the
ship's barber to rub shoulders with the admiral's epaulets than that
a post-trader's child should visit the ladies on the "line," or that
the wives of the enlisted men should dine with the young girl from
whom they "took in" washing.

So, between the upper and the nether grindstones, Mary Cahill was
left without the society of her own sex, and was of necessity forced
to content herself with the society of the officers. And the officers
played fair. Loyalty to Mary Cahill was a tradition at Fort Crockett,
which it was the duty of each succeeding regiment to sustain.
Moreover, her father, a dark, sinister man, alive only to money-
making, was known to handle a revolver with the alertness of a town-
marshal.

Since the day she left the convent Mary Cahill had held but two
affections: one for this grim, taciturn parent, who brooded over her