And to me, "I must
say good-night, sir."
I turned away moodily, and found the embers of the fire at my own camp.
Not far away I could hear the stamp of horses, the occasional sound of
low voices and of laughter, where some of the enlisted men were grouped
upon the ground. The black blur made by the wagon stockade and a tent or
so was visible against the lighter line of the waterway of the Platte.
Night came down, brooding with its million stars. I could hear the
voices of the wolves calling here and there. It was a scene wild and
appealing. I was indeed, it seemed to me, in a strange new world, where
all was young, where everything was beginning. Where was the old world I
had left behind me?
I rolled into my blankets, but I could not sleep. The stars were too
bright, the wind too full of words, the sweep of the sky too strong. I
shifted the saddle under my head, and turned and turned, but I could not
rest. I looked up again into the eye of my cold, reproving star.
But now, to my surprise and horror, when I looked into the eye of my
monitor, my own eye would not waver nor admit subjection! I rebelled at
my own conscience. I, John Cowles, had all my life been a strong man.
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