Betty at Fort Blizzard

hristmas, if only to forget that they were shut in. The Christmas Eve exhibition drill and music ride was to be the principal event of the season, an

the Colonel had always settled their problems between themselves solely. Sergeant McGillicuddy ha

nita, she'd look mighty pretty ridin' with him, and Pretty Maid is as quiet as a lamb, sir, under the saddle. I wouldn't answer for her in shafts, sir. Lord! There's nothin

Gillicuddy?" as

n' afraid av horses in wheeled vehicles.' An' ivery time I go up in a flyin' machine, just for the fun av it, Missis McGillicuddy, she says to me 'Patrick, if they was to lop off the f from that flyin' machine, it

volutions," said the Colonel, lighting a c

y on Christmas day. Well, sir, I've made my will and settled up my account at the post trader's, and the aviation orficer has promised to tak' me

l Fortescue dwelt upon the superiority of a quiet horse li

need watching," replied Mrs. Fortescue, who

th Broussard all the other sublieutenants who had hoped to sit in Broussard's saddle promptly provided themselves with other charming young ladies of the post. Next to Anita, the best rider was Sally Harlow, the daughter of her who had been Sally Carteret. Mrs. Harlow followed the example of Mrs. Fortescue

took place every afternoon in the great riding hal

nstead of blood. The After-Clap, under Kettle's secret instructions, became valuable ally of Broussard's. Kettle managed that the baby's afternoon ride in his wicker carriage should coincide with Broussard's arrival. The dark-eyed baby, in his little white fur coat and cap an

n' to say 'M

escue's heart sank when he saw Broussard and Anita walking off together; Broussard so trim and soldierly in his riding uniform and Anita so amazingly pretty

re was to be a big ball, for at Fort Blizzard the young girls and young officers ende

n officer's uniform-a costume that would make even a plain girl enchanting, and how much more so the violet-eyed Anita? Mrs. Fortescue, in a beautiful ball gown, looked quite as handsome as her daughter. The regimental tailor h

s slim as a girl's, "I shall have to put you on a diet of l

darkly and Anita, putting her

arling daddy, I love

d, dear, darling daddy, I

The Colonel was polite but not effusive, having developed a rooted dislike to junior unm

r name, and was the best behaved, as she was the handsomest, of all the mounts of the young ladies. Broussard's Gamechick, a perfectly trained cavalry charger, with an eye and ear of beautiful intelligence,

four legs. It's mighty seldom nowadays, you see a four-legged horse; most of

ry girls. Their part was not to come for an hour, but they declared the night was too lovely to go into the waiting-room, and t

uddenly appeared carrying in his arms a white bundle, which turned out to be the After-Clap. He should have been asleep in his crib

nging the baby out this time of n

wuz a hoss show on-it's mighty little he doan' know, and after the Kun'l and Miss Betty lef', he begin' to cry for 'Horsey! Horsey!' an I jes' had t

send him home. Anita was a soft-hearted creature. Sergeant McGillicuddy, however, explained disgustedly

egun to yell 'Horsey! Horsey!' if he ever did it at all. With eight children av her own and Anna Mariar's beau, Missis McGi

, knowing them to be his true friends, and was never happier than with his big, kind

h him. With a countenance as inscrutable as the Sphinx, he stepped to the telephone booth, shut the door carefully, and held a short conversation over

id the Sergeant with a grin, going up to Kettle

ettle, "Mrs. McGillicuddy a

sleeve, naturally incensed the Sergeant. He had learned, however, in twen

okers on. "But Missis McGillicuddy can wallop him with one hand tied behind her back, a

keen December night, was seen stalking across the plaza and toward the group of men and horses outside the drill ball; the riders had trooped into the waiting-room for coffee

houted Mrs.

it meant the same thing as when Colonel Fortescue call

when they are peacefully watchin' the show you take this pore baby out of his warm bed and brings him out here to catch his death of cold, and Patrick

ke Kettle and McGillicuddy and the admiring crowd of troopers, the bab

cuddy to Kettle, who meekly obeyed her, "and McGill

fter-Clap and took the way to the C. O.'s quarters, where the baby, much to his disappointment, wa

orses and grinning troopers, forestalled criticism by handing

and out av it. It's the Golden Rule of married life, boys, and it ought to be added to th

ball costumes for the ball that was to follow. Under the galleries the soldiers and their families were massed. Over the wide entrance door was the musicians' gallery, where the regimental band, and Neroda, their leader, a handsome Italian, with their gleaming instruments, made a great splash of vivid color against the sombre wall. Opposite the entrance was the Commanding Officer's box, beautifully draped with flags and wreaths of holly.

ed in, the lithe young troopers and the sleek horses with muscles of steel under their satin skins, horse and man moving as one. After a dash around the hall, they proceeded to show what troopers and horses could do. The soldiers rode bareback and upside do

drivers, with four horses to each gun, sat like statues, as did the three artillerymen, erect, with folded arms, as straight and still as men of steel, and their backs to the horses, as the guns sped around the hall and turn

music ride by the officers and girls, the prettiest sight in the world. Middle-aged matrons and gray-mustached of

e, opening her fan, leaned over a

meaning that Anita would do her act more gracefully

ers were resplendent, while the girls, in their daring imitation of the uniform and with cavalry caps upon their pretty heads, looked like young Amazons riding to war. Br

nita raising her little gauntleted hand to her cavalry cap. Colonel Fortescue stood up and returned the salute as the riders passed, two by two. Next began the scene of

ping time to the roar of the music. Anita was riding like a bird on the wing and Pretty Maid, who had behaved with her usual grace and decorum, opening and shutting her stride like a machine. Just as she got in front of the C. O.'s box the

s in her saddle; the next Pretty Maid stopped, crouched, gave a wild spring, fell prone on her knees, and rolled over, str

her eyes. Broussard's horse was then not six feet away from h

. In the C. O.'s box the chaplain was on his feet, his hands clasped in silent supplication; Mrs. Fortescue, braver than a brave soldier, put her arm about her husband's neck, as Colonel Fortescue swayed about in his seat like a drunken man. Amid the blare of the band and the riders and chargers almost upon the str

ussard, lifted Gam

ent cleared both

ke madmen. Broussard smilingly picked up Anita's cavalry cap, which had fallen on the tanbark, brushed it and put it on Anita's pretty head; some words, unheard by others, passed between them. The mare then lay perfectly quiet. Broussard, amid the roar of cheers and shouts and furious handclapping and music, got the mare on her fe

ter, while the band played "For He Is a Jolly Good Fellow," and everybody who could sing, or thought he could sing, joine

ave as you we

of machine guns brought with them no such wild and shivering terror as wh

en and all eyes were fixed on the C. O.'s. box. In a minute Broussard, with his cavalry cap in his hand, was seen mounting the stairs; Colonel Fortescue rose and clasped Broussard's hand, while Mrs. Fortescue frankly kissed him on both cheeks. The band broke loose again and so did the people. Although Fort Blizzard was a great

the moonlight to their quarters, Broussard and Anita riding ahead as if nothing had happened,

at in his chair and trembled like a leaf. Mrs. Fortesc

squad that I never knew what fear was until this night, and yet I thought I knew it and could feel

you don't love her half as much as you love me.

put his arm

-I can't bear

you must go to the ba

eyes, looked at her as if to

on the stairs. She flitted into the office and looked, in her ball

olonel and her mother, "I am a soldier's daughter, and I can't let

scue caught h

ou have the making of ten soldiers in

ticed for the first time how pale she was, but there was a smile on her lips and the fine

nd daughter. Anita kissed him tenderly; a soft-hearted deserter always

the first dance with Anita once more there was applause and something in the eyes of the smiling, handclapping crowd that brought the ever-ready color into Anita's delicately lovely face. It was a beautiful ball, as all

an adored child, and only one. The After-Clap, with the preternatural knowledge claimed f

necessary wigging for taking the baby from his bed and carrying him out of doors at eight o'clock in the evening because he waked up and said "Horsey." In vain Kettle pleaded "fo' Gord-" always a forerunner of a tarradiddle-that

if you keep on doing everything the baby tells you to do, I will buy

uddenly overspread Kettle's face and h

an' say you is goin' to sen' me back to Virginia, you is jes' jokin'. You done tole me that too oftin, Miss Be

ddenly laughed, too; there was no way short of putting Kettle in handcuffs and leg

y was at the Sergeant's door, and in it sat Mrs. McGillicuddy, elaborately dressed, a picture hat and feathers on her carefully frizzed hair and her voluminous draperies nearly swamping the little Sergeant cowering in the corner of the buggy. To it was hitched the milkman's mare, wh

illicuddy sat majestica

bestrode the peacef

ng much wilted and depressed,

e in the new buggy, Serg

old her the aviation orficer had promised to take me flyin' with him to-morrow mornin', and if I lost my life in a wheeled vehicle there'd be no more flyin' fir me because I don't look to be a angel immediate I get into the next world. All she says to me was, like she was a Sergeant Major and I was a recruity, 'You get into this buggy, Patrick McGillicuddy.' So, as orders is orders, sir, I got in, and I stayed in until my fears of that horse's hind feet right under nay nose got the better of my duty to Missis McGillicuddy, as my superior orficer. I begun to feel hollow inside, like a man feels when he's ordered into action and the artillery is ploughing up the ground with shells. Then, sir, I mutinied.