"In a few words, general, he was an ex-army officer, whose name I am not at liberty to give; but he met with misfortunes and sorrows, and became a recluse, seeking a home in what was then the very heart of the Indian country. He went South when the Civil War began, being a Southerner, and one night when alone on the prairies a horse went into his camp upon the back of which were two children, a boy and a girl. I was the boy, and the young girl is now living with her adopted parents in New York. We had escaped from a wagon-train, where people had been massacred, and roamed into the camp of the one who from that day became a father to me, taking me into the Confederate army with him as a boy soldier."
"Your story interests me greatly, Lieutenant Carey—and the young girl?" said the general.
"Was adopted by settlers, whose home we went to, and, as I said, is now living in New York."
"And you?"
"Returned to the frontier with my adopted father, sir, who was known as the hermit of the Black Hills."
"Ah! I have heard of him. He was killed by a renegade white man who was a chief among the Sioux, I believe?"
"Yes, sir, and his death was avenged," was the significant response of the young officer; and the words recalled to the general that he had heard that Kit Carey was the avenger, and how his services to army officers as a boy guide and scout had gotten him his cadetship to West Point.
But to this he did not refer more than to say:
"Well, Lieutenant Carey, you are the very man I need for the work to be done, and I shall wish you to hold yourself in readiness for duty, and perilous duty it will be."
Kit bowed, and asked: