Another such attempt, subversive of all discipline, and the gates of Dearborn will be closed against you." These harsh expressions stung me, but I felt them in a measure merited, and made no reply.
"'T was but the act of a boy, Heald," interposed Wells kindly, resting his hand upon my shoulder, "and you will find the lad well worth having when time of trial comes." I slipped away through an opening in the curious throng, and hastened across the open parade toward the messroom.

I felt dust-covered and bruised from my rough experiences, and hoped to discover opportunities for a bath.

The building called the mess-room was long, running nearly half the length of the stockade, built like the others of logs, two stories in height, and containing a number of rooms.

The single flight of stairs, opening just within the porch, was exceedingly rude, and built without any protecting rail.

I hesitated a moment when fairly within the entrance, scarce knowing which way to turn in search of what I sought; but as I waited there, a light step sounded upon the bare floor above, and glancing up, with quickened beat of the heart, my eyes caught the soft drapery of a woman as she stepped on the upper stair.
I could scarcely have retreated had I wished to do so, though I realized instantly who it was, and drew back against the wall, so that she came down, singing lightly to herself, without noticing my presence until we were face to face.