She has been with us a good nice long time,now.You are troubled about your sprite because this is such a wild frontier,hundreds of miles from civilization,and peopled only by wandering tribes of savages?You fear for her safety?Give yourself no uneasiness about her.Dear me,she's in a nursery!and she's got more than eighteen hundred nurses.It would distress the garrison to suspect that you think they can't take care of her.They think they can.
They would tell you so themselves.You see,the Seventh Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before,and neither has the Ninth Dragoons;and so they are like all new mothers,they think there is no other child like theirs,no other child so wonderful,none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked after and protected.These bronzed veterans of mine are very good mothers,I think,and wiser than some other mothers;for they let her take lots of risks,and it is a good education for her;and the more risks she takes and comes successfully out of,the prouder they are of her.They adopted her,with grave and formal military ceremonies of their own invention -solemnities is the truer word;solemnities that were so profoundly solemn and earnest,that the spectacle would have been comical if it hadn't been so touching.
It was a good show,and as stately and complex as guard-mount and the trooping of the colors;and it had its own special music,composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of the Seventh;and the child was as serious as the most serious war-worn soldier of them all;and finally when they throned her upon the shoulder of the oldest veteran,and pronounced her "well and truly adopted,"and the bands struck up and all saluted and she saluted in return,it was better and more moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage,because stage things are make-believe,but this was real and the players'hearts were in it.
It happened several weeks ago,and was followed by some additional solemnities.The men created a couple of new ranks,thitherto unknown to the army regulations,and conferred them upon Cathy,with ceremonies suitable to a duke.So now she is Corporal-General of the Seventh Cavalry,and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons,with the privilege (decreed by the men)of writing U.S.A.after her name!Also,they presented her a pair of shoulder-straps -both dark blue,the one with F.L.on it,the other with C.G.Also,a sword.She wears them.Finally,they granted her the SALUTE.Iam witness that that ceremony is faithfully observed by both parties -and most gravely and decorously,too.I have never seen a soldier smile yet,while delivering it,nor Cathy in returning it.
Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings,and am ignorant of them;but I was where I could see.I was afraid of one thing -the jealousy of the other children of the post;but there is nothing of that,I am glad to say.On the contrary,they are proud of their comrade and her honors.It is a surprising thing,but it is true.The children are devoted to Cathy,for she has turned their dull frontier life into a sort of continuous festival;also they know her for a stanch and steady friend,a friend who can always be depended upon,and does not change with the weather.
She has become a rather extraordinary rider,under the tutorship of a more than extraordinary teacher -BB,which is her pet name for Buffalo Bill.She pronounces it BEEBY.He has not only taught her seventeen ways of breaking her neck,but twenty-two ways of avoiding it.He has infused into her the best and surest protection of a horseman -CONFIDENCE.He did it gradually,systematically,little by little,a step at a time,and each step made sure before the next was essayed.And so he inched her along up through terrors that had been discounted by training before she reached them,and therefore were not recognizable as terrors when she got to them.Well,she is a daring little rider,now,and is perfect in what she knows of horsemanship.By-and-by she will know the art like a West Point cadet,and will exercise it as fearlessly.She doesn't know anything about side-saddles.Does that distress you?And she is a fine performer,without any saddle at all.Does that discomfort you?Do not let it;she is not in any danger,I give you my word.
You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it,and you said truly.I do not know how I got along without her,before.I was a forlorn old tree,but now that this blossoming vine has wound itself about me and become the life of my life,it is very different.As a furnisher of business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly competent,but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes hers,for Dorcas "raised"George,and Cathy is George over again in so many ways that she brings back Dorcas's youth and the joys of that long-vanished time.My father tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago,when we still lived in Virginia,but without success;she considered herself a member of the family,and wouldn't go.And so,a member of the family she remained,and has held that position unchallenged ever since,and holds it now;for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino when we learned that Cathy was coming,she only changed from one division of the family to the other.She has the warm heart of her race,and its lavish affections,and when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five minutes,and that is what they are to date and will continue.Dorcas really thinks she raised George,and that is one of her prides,but perhaps it was a mutual raising,for their ages were the same -thirteen years short of mine.But they were playmates,at any rate;as regards that,there is no room for dispute.
Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except herself.
