“I doubt if I could put up with that there discipline all the week,” he mused. “Carry—arms! Present—Arms! I guess that's all I know of it.” The winking white line of gloves stirred his approval. “Pretty good that. Gosh, see the sun on them bayonets!”
The last note of retreat merged in the sonorous gun, and the flag shining in the light of evening slid down and rested upon the earth. The blue ranks marched to a single bugle—the post was short of men and officers—and the captain, with the released lieutenants, again sought digestion and cigars. Balwin returned to his guest, and together they watched the day forsake the plain. Presently the guest rose to take his leave. He looked old enough to be the father of the young officer, but he was a civilian, and the military man proceeded to give him excellent advice.
“Now don't get into trouble, Cutler.”
The slouch-shouldered scout rolled his quid gently, and smiled at his superior with indulgent regard.
“See here, Cutler, you have a highly unoccupied look about you this evening. I've been studying the customs of this population, and I've noted a fact or two.”
“Let 'em loose on me, sir.”
“Fact one: When any male inhabitant of Fort Laramie has a few spare moments, he hunts up a game of cards.”
“Well, sir, you've called the turn on me.”
“Fact two: At Fort Laramie a game of cards frequently ends in discussion.”
“Fact three: Mr. Calvin, in them discussions Jarvis Cutler has the last word. You put that in your census report alongside the other two.”