About an hour before sunset, Colonel Jerry rode furiously into the post. Her sweating pony was streaked with dust, and the colonel was covered with it from head to foot. Except for the rumpled and brief little corduroy skirt and bloomers, her clothing was an exact, if miniature, copy of her father’s. Her wide felt hat had its regulation cord and tassels, there were gauntlets on her small hands, and gaiters on her small legs. The sleeve of her boyish skirt carried its device, and she wore a cartridge belt, a little pistol, and a sword.
She drew her dancing pony sharply up before the group on the porch, and saluted severely.
“And just in time, too!” said the major, who was also the colonel’s father. He looked at her reproachfully. “We were about to send a company out after you! Leave Baby at the side door and go straight upstairs. When you’re presentable come down, and I’ll introduce you to your Boston uncle and aunt. We’ve been watching for you all afternoon. What kept you, you vagabond?”
The colonel, trying to quiet her nervous horse, wheeled about in a manner that made her aunt dizzy. She answered, jerkily: “Trouble, sir—on the reservation! Whoa, there, pretty! Quiet, girl! It seems that—it seems that some of those hogs of Indians got hold—steady, old girl!—got hold of a keg of whisky—somewhere—and—Peters said—hold still, you fool! You’ll have your oats in a minute!—Peters said—that last night—there wasn’t a man in the camp that wasn’t drunk! You will have to excuse me, sir! She’s pulling my arms out!” And she gave her horse its head.
When the two had flashed around the corner of the house, the major smiled, proudly. “What d’ye think of her?” he said, turning to his brother-in-law.
“Well, for a nine-year-old,” said Dr. Eyre, slowly, “she is certainly a wonder!”
The doctor’s wife, a pretty, precise little woman, looked at her own neat little girl, and sighed, profoundly.
“And this—this!” she said, plaintively, “is poor Amy’s child!”
The major looked a trifle uncomfortable, but his young aid spoke, eagerly: “Every one on the post is proud of the colonel! You see, we’ve brought her up here among us, Mrs. Eyre—taught her everything she knows! You can’t take in her good points at a glance—but she’s as square as any man!”
When the little girl presently joined them, her dark hair had been smoothly brushed, her white frock and buckled slippers were irreproachable. She gave a cool and impassive little cheek to her aunt’s kisses, and then, from her father’s knee, soberly studied her kinspeople.