1896. The book begins: The snow had gone from all the foothills and had long since disappeared in the broad river bottom. It was fast going from the neighboring mountains, too-both the streams told plainly of that, for while the Platte rolled along in great, swift surges under the Engineer Bridge, its smaller tributary-the Larmie, as the soldiers called it-came brawling and foaming down its stony bed and sweeping around the back of the fort with a wild vehemence that made some of the denizens of the south end decidedly nervous. The rear windows of the commanding officer's house looked out upon a rushing torrent, and where the surgeon lived, at the southwest angle, the waters lashed against the shabby old board fence that had been built in bygone days, partly to keep the children and chickens from tumbling into the stream when the water was high, partly to keep out marauding coyotes when the water was low. See other titles by this author available from Kessinger Publishing.