OVER THE WIRES.

Has my reader forgotten Emma Foshay, the daughter of a brother officer of Kit Carey, and for whom the dashing soldier made such a sacrifice, as to stand at bay while the fair girl fled on to the camp?

I trust that she is not forgotten, for Emma Foshay is not to be wholly dropped from this story, as she, too, has a mission to fill.

Escorted to the nearest station by her father, she took the train eastward to her home in New York, anxious to reach the side of her invalid mother before the stories of the Indian campaign should get to her ears with many an exaggeration and untruth.

Day and night she sped along, her thoughts busy with her anxiety for her mother, and for the fate of the gallant soldier who had shown himself so willing to sacrifice himself to save her.

At the fort, where it was said that she was heartless, that she was a coquette, the story she would never contradict, for well she knew that the handsome young aide, whose story she had heard and regarded as one of mystery and romance, had won her heart almost at their first meeting.

Then came their ride together, their danger, and the thought that she had left him behind to die while she lived.

Had she been in doubt before of her feelings she could not be longer after that ride with Kit Carey, and it was no wonder that, as she was whirled eastward on the train, that she felt a dread of evil, that death would take away the one man among men in all the world to her.

Mrs. Foshay had, of course, been told by the kind neighbors the most harassing stories of the Indian war, the death of Sitting Bull, and the terrors that were expected to follow, but they were good enough who retailed the news to state that thus far they had seen no account of Captain Foshay's having been slain or captured by the hostiles.

It was a great relief, therefore, to the lady when her daughter arrived, fresh from the fields of danger, and she learned the truth of affairs.

Emma was most careful that no paper should reach her mother's hands, for she read all the news to her, keeping back all that might excite or alarm her.

One afternoon Emma Foshay went out to call upon a friend, and she met there a young lady who was visiting for a week.

She was at once struck with the beauty of the young girl, and her lovely, fascinating manners, and seemed strangely drawn toward her.

She had been introduced as Miss Earl, and the conversation at once turned upon Emma Foshay's visit to her father upon the frontier, and her narrow escape from capture by the Indians.

"But there are so many stories in the papers, Emma, for each correspondent seems to think that he is sent out there to write a romance, so do tell us just how it was, for Violet, I know, is as curious to know as I am," said Ella Dewhurst, the fair young hostess.

"Yes, I shall be delighted to hear of your adventure, Miss Foshay, for I am very deeply interested in the army," Violet Earl responded.

Thus urged Emma Foshay said:

"I would have been glad to have remained there during all the troubles, to be near papa; but he was ordered at once from the post to the front, and I became anxious about mamma, who is an invalid, so decided to hurry home at once. It was easier, however, to decide upon than to accomplish; but I was determined to come, and so accepted the escort of Lieutenant Kit Carey, one of the army heroes, and justly so. He had orders to report at once for duty at the Pine Ridge Agency, as he was an old Indian fighter, reared on the frontier, and so I was glad to have such a man for my escort, and Colonel Crandall was good enough to say I should have gone with no one else alone, as his aide was about the only one he knew who could carry me through in safety."

And so Emma went on with her story, telling in a thrilling way the perils they had encountered, and, at last, when Kit Carey's horse was wounded, how he determined to stand at bay while she rode on to the camp for aid.

"It seemed cowardly in me to desert that brave man," she continued, "yet I could no more check that horse than I could have beaten the Indians back.

"Then I saw him in the trail as I sped on, fearless, defiant, and ready to die if so it must be, without flinching. I shall never forget him as I saw him there, never! never! And I shall never forget how utterly crushed I felt at heart in leaving him there to what I deemed a certain fate."

"Yet he escaped," said Violet Earl, quietly.

"Yes, papa wired me on the train as I came along, that Lieutenant Carey had not only escaped death, but was afterward selected as the one to capture Sitting Bull, and I know we shall hear more of his gallant acts, for he is just the man for a hero."

"I heard to-day, Miss Foshay, of the battle of Wounded Knee Creek, and that Lieutenant Carey had greatly distinguished himself. This was telegraphed me by Surgeon Frank Powell, who knows that Lieutenant Carey is a particular friend of mine," said Violet Earl.

"You knew him then, Miss Earl? Then you know what a splendid fellow he is," said Emma Foshay, with enthusiasm.

Violet's face flushed, while she said, in a low tone:

"As it is not intended to be a secret, Miss Foshay, I will tell you that I am engaged to Lieutenant Carey."

"Engaged to——" and Emma Foshay could say no more, while the entrance of a servant with a telegram prevented both Violet and Ella Dewhurst from seeing how livid the face of the young girl became.

"For me?" said Violet, with a calmness she did not feel, as she took the telegram from the servant.

Breaking open the envelope, she read aloud:

"Do not be alarmed at rumors that Carey is dead.

"He ventured into the hostiles' lines, but you know his phenomenal luck in getting out of close places, and it will not desert him now.

"I will wire you the moment we get news of him, so keep up your courage. "Yours, Frank Powell."