"Nothin' of the sort. You get married next week; do you hear? No mañana about this business; get it over as quick as possible. You'll be worthless to me for long enough, as it is. A great poet you are! The whole thing was nothin' but the girl, just as I told Sergeant Stone."
So J Troop had a wedding, and the whole troop turned out in force, brave in full dress, from Shorty down to the latest junior rook—the only member not present being Sergeant Hansen, who had no interest in the proceedings. And the punch flowed so freely and so strongly that every man who tried to enlighten the absent one told a totally different story.
Spring had come again at Fort Hotchkiss, and one soft evening, as Stone and Whitney were sitting on the porch, Sergeant Theodore Ryan, now proudly sporting his three chevrons, came up to them, smiling a wide-mouthed, foolish smile.
"Well, what's up, hombre?"
"Recruits fer J Troop—over to my quarters."
"Recruits! You don't mean to say there's two of 'em?"
Ryan nodded. "Twins," he assented beamingly.
"'Heaven meant things to go in twos, Cora,'" quoted Whitney.