On his record he was appointed a second lieutenant in the
Twentieth Cavalry, and on the return of that regiment to the States--
was buried alive at Fort Crockett.
After six months of this exile, one night at the mess-table Ranson
broke forth in open rebellion. "I tell you I can't stand it a day
longer," he cried. "I'm going to resign!"
From behind the counter Mary Cahill heard him in horror. Second
Lieutenants Crosby and Curtis shuddered. They were sons of officers
of the regular army. Only six months before they themselves had been
forwarded from West Point, done up in neat new uniforms. The
traditions of the Academy of loyalty and discipline had been kneaded
into their vertebrae. In Ranson they saw only the horrible result of
giving commissions to civilians.
"Maybe the post will be gayer now that spring has come," said Curtis
hopefully, but with a doubtful look at the open fire.
"I wouldn't do anything rash," urged Crosby.
Miss Cahill shook her head. "Why, I like it at the post," she said,
"and I've been here five years--ever since I left the convent--and I-
--"
Ranson interrupted, bowing gallantly. "Yes, I know, Miss Cahill," he
said, "but I didn't come here from a convent.
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