Farewells were said, and leading Emma Foshay to her horse, Kit Carey raised her to her saddle as easily as he would a child, for he was a man of phenomenal strength.
Leaping into his own saddle, without aid of the stirrup, he raised his hat as farewells were waved, and then came ringing cheers from the soldiers, as an officer called out:
"Three cheers, men, for Lieutenant Kit Carey of the gallant Seventh!"
At a canter the officer and the young girl rode away from the post, and anxious eyes watched them until they disappeared far away across the prairie, while old soldiers shook their sage heads in a way that was a foreboding of evil to come.
If Kit Carey felt any anxiety he did not show it, for his face was as sunny-hued as ever, and for himself he held no fear whatever, but for his fair companion.
Emma Foshay had won many hearts while on the short visit to the post, and yet, if she had a preference herself for any one officer, she was one to keep the secret hidden in her own heart.
There were some who said that Kit Carey was her favorite, and that she had taken up her cross in life when she heard one day that he was engaged to a fair young girl in New York, one who had been his companion in boyhood, and whose meeting had been a strange romance.
But if Emma Foshay felt that life had lost its charm through a love unrequited, she did not show to others the aching heart she bore.
Without following a trail, Kit Carey led the way across country, and seemed only anxious to reach the beaten track to the agency before night should fall.
After a ride of a couple of hours a halt was made upon the banks of a stream, and the two ate a cold supper, though a good one, and enjoyed it, while the horses were staked out for rest and food.