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Updated: June 10, 2025
General Young had in his immediate command a squadron of the First Regular Cavalry, two hundred and forty-four strong, under the command of Major Bell, and a squadron of the Tenth Regular Cavalry, two hundred and twenty strong, under the command of Major Norvell. He also had two Hotchkiss mountain guns, under Captain Watson of the Tenth.
Why should he seek her, even although she bade him come? She might no longer care, but he did; to her such a meeting might be only a mere incident, an experience to be lightly talked over, but to him such an interview could only prove continual torture. But no! The thought wronged her; such an action would not be possible to Beth Norvell.
Perhaps it's silk, perhaps it's calico; but you bet it's something, for you 're no angel. By God, I believe I could name it, even now." Winston wheeled, his right hand thrust deeply into his coat pocket, his face sternly set. "What, for instance?" "Well, just to take a chance, Beth Norvell," Farnham never forgot the flame of those gray eyes, or the sharp sting of the indignant voice.
For a brief moment the surprised man stood hesitating, hat in hand. "I certainly regret having thus unintentionally offended you, Miss Norvell," he explained at last, slowly. "Yet, surely, the occasion should bring you pleasure rather than annoyance." "Indeed! Why, pray?" "Because I so greatly enjoy your work. I stood here merely that I might observe the details more carefully."
"It w-w-was N-N-Nor-vell." With the utterance of the word the young engineer was striding rapidly toward the cabin. Through the single unglazed window Beth Norvell saw him coming, and clutched at the casing, trembling violently, half inclined to turn and fly. This was the moment she had so greatly dreaded, yet the moment she could not avoid unless she failed to do her duty to this man.
"Thank you," she said gravely, "you have been most kind, good-night," and vanished up the stairs. Within the privacy of her own securely locked room Beth Norvell flung herself upon the narrow bed, not to sleep, not even to rest, but in an earnest effort to clarify her brain, to gain fresh conception of this grim reality which fronted her.
Step by step they crept up, cautiously advancing from out the bottom of the cleft, the path followed winding in and out among bewildering cedars, and skirting unknown depths of ravines. Mercedes was breathing heavily, her unoccupied hand grasping the trailing skirt which interfered with her climbing. Miss Norvell, from her higher perch on the pony's back, glanced behind apprehensively.
An instant she hesitated, her eyes downcast, fully conscious he was anxiously searching her countenance for the exact truth. "And under those conditions," she responded finally, "Miss Norvell would very probably have answered yes, only it would have been more deliberately uttered, so that you should have realized the measure of her condescension." Winston laughed.
You don't vant Mooney to make lofe to you? You don't vant him to giss you? hey, vos dot it?" "Yes, that was exactly it." "Ach! you too nice to be brofessional; you like to choose your lofer, hey? You forget you earn a livin' so. Vot you got against Mooney?" Miss Norvell, her cheeks burning indignantly, her eyes already ablaze, did not mince words.
The girl instantly flushed crimson to the roots of her black hair, bringing her hands together sharply, her eyes straying from Winston to the suddenly uplifted face of Miss Norvell. "No, no," she said, at last, her voice softer. "He vas not to me anyting! She know how it vas; maybe she tell you sometime. Not now, but sometime. I jus' vant do right.
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