Major sat at Ronald's feet, listening intelligently, and thumping the ground vigorously with his bushy tail. "Poor old boy," said his new master, affectionately; "it was pretty bad, wasn't it? He's a nice dog, isn't he, Howard?"
"Washing would help him."
"He's going to have his Spring bath the first warm day. How do you suppose dogs know whom they belong to? Major knows he's mine, and nobody could get him away from me."
Beatrice came out of Captain Franklin's and took a careful survey of the Fort. It was a gloomy place at best, but the disorder of the night made it worse.
"Good-morning," said the Lieutenant, as he passed her on his way home.
"Good-morning," returned the girl, including Ronald in the salutation. Then she whistled to the dog, but he paid no attention to the call other than to lean heavily against his master.
"He's mine," laughed Ronald, meeting her, "and you can't have him. How do you like living in the Fort?"
"I don't like it," she answered disdainfully. "It's about as cheerful as a tomb. I'm glad we're going home."
Ronald lifted his brows inquiringly. "Who's going home?"