Erect, the very impersonation of military discipline, the soldier
crossed the room, and stared into the unshaven face of the Sergeant.
Suddenly his eyes brightened, and he wheeled about as if on a pivot,
again bringing his gloved hand up in salute.

"Eet vas Colonel Hamlin, I tink ya," he said in strong German accent.
"I know heem."

The Sergeant gripped his arm, bringing his face about once more.

"You are Shultz--Sergeant-Major Shultz!" he cried. "What ever became
of you? What is it you know?"

"Wait a minute, Hamlin," said Sheridan quickly, rising to his feet. "I
can explain this much better than that Dutchman. He means well enough,
but his tongue twists. It seems Custer met you once in the Shenandoah,
and later heard of your dismissal from the service. One night he spoke
about the affair in my quarters. Shultz was present on duty and
overheard. He spoke up like a little man; said he was there when you
got your orders, that they were delivered verbally by the staff
officer, and he repeated them for us word for word. He was taken
prisoner an hour later, and never heard of your court-martial. Is that
it, Shultz?"

"Mine Gott, ya; I sa dot alreatty," fervently. "He tell you not
reconnoisance--_charge_! I heard eet twice. Gott in Himmel, vat a
hell in der pines!"

"Hamlin," continued Sheridan quietly, "there is little enough we can do
to right this wrong. There is no way in which that Confederate