"Nonsense"--he made a feeble effort to shake off her hand--"I asked you not to come back. I'm tired, that's all."

Katherine rose and looked about.

"Come into the waiting room, dad, and lie down. You must have some sleep or you won't be good for anything."

"You must go back," said Porter, shaking his head. "This is no place for you."

Katherine looked quietly into his eyes. It was not the first time that the strain of his busy life had told upon her father's nerves, and she knew what was the matter.

"Come, dad," she said. "Get a little sleep, and I'll stay by and wake you if there is any news."

Porter scowled, then slowly rose. The Captain, who had been hesitating in the doorway, came forward to a.s.sist. Porter turned on him savagely. "Let me alone. I can walk, I guess." But at a glance from Katherine the Captain took an arm, and Porter submitted, seemingly unconscious of his inconsistency.

Along the walls of the waiting room were benches, and on one of these they tried to make Porter comfortable. When she saw that his head must rest on the wooden seat, Katherine hesitated and looked at the Captain, who was following her with his eyes.

"I wish there was something for a pillow," she said. "Perhaps"--she stood erect and looked slowly about the waiting room, then stepped to the door of the office, returning with a pretty frown. "I wonder"--she met the Captain's gaze smiling frankly--"if you would let me take your coat."

He was not an old officer, and he was not a hermit, so with but slight hesitation he unbuckled his belt, removed the coat, rolled it up, and as Katherine raised her father's head he slipped it underneath.

"Will you send one of your men to a drug store for some camphor?" said Katherine, fumbling in the purse that hung from her belt.

The Captain beckoned to one of the soldiers who were cl.u.s.tered about the door, and placed him at Katherine's disposal. When he returned she soaked her handkerchief with the camphor and laid it on her father's forehead. He was already asleep.

"He'll be better as soon as he has had a little rest," Katherine said.

"You are very good to help us." The Captain bowed with the expression of a man who has just been promoted, but said nothing.

For an hour Porter slept, and during that time Katherine stayed by him, moistening the folded handkerchief and chafing his wrists. The Captain, his importance and self-command oozing away a bit at a time as he watched the cool, quiet girl, hovered near as often as his dignity would permit with offers of a.s.sistance, most of which Katherine accepted. He put her horses and trap in charge of a militiaman, he brought out a rocking-chair for her, and when, a little after eight o'clock, Porter showed signs of waking, he sent out for some breakfast.

On Porter, the touch of sleep, the welcome cup of coffee, and more than anything else his daughter's soothing presence, seemed to have a marked effect. He sat up, leaning back heavily, and with a struggle collected his thoughts. Katherine joked with him, and fussed over him with a maternal solicitude that made the Captain smile.

At eight-thirty, as Porter was sipping another cup of coffee, the corporal appeared.

"A man says he's got to see Mr. Porter, sir. A Mr. McNally."

"McNally," cried Porter, starting up only to sink back, breathing heavily.

"Bring him here. I've got to see him."

The Captain hesitated.

"Did he state his business?"

"No, sir. But he has a pa.s.s through the lines at Sawyerville, signed by Colonel Wray."

"Um--let him come in."

It was not the Mr. McNally who had played for Katherine two nights before.

That had been a well-groomed, self-possessed man of the world; this was a muddy, unshaven, angry man, who spoke in a loud voice and smothered an oath just too late to keep it from her ear.

He recovered somewhat, but even McNally could not lose sleep and temper for so many hours without a more or less immediate result. As she looked at him with a cool bow, Katherine thought of Harvey, and something caught in her throat.

"Well," said Porter, "what about it? What's happened? Who's running this road?"

McNally looked curiously at the Captain before he replied. That officer, at an appealing glance from Katherine, left the group.

"The Governor is running it. He's played a game that knocks us silly. He's come down on us and cinched things for the senatorship at one crack."

"What do you mean?" In his excitement Porter sat erect.

"The Old Man has declared the M. & T. under military rule until the courts choose to settle it to suit themselves. That throws us out, throws Weeks out, and the devil take the hindmost."

"Has there been trouble?"

"They smashed into us at Sawyerville"--he suddenly remembered Katherine--"Excuse me, Miss Porter, I must see your father alone."

"He cannot be excited, Mr. McNally."

"There is no time to waste--"

Katherine turned abruptly and went into the office.

"Yes," said McNally, "they ripped into us at Sawyerville and we had the h.e.l.l of a time till Wray's guards came up and stopped it. Wray let me through,--it was just after daylight,--and I picked up a horse from a farmer and rode down. But we got West though, d.a.m.n him!--caught him sneaking through the bushes."

"Be careful, McNally, we've got to be careful. It's no time to get mixed up in a thing like that--we--we can't afford--"

"That's all right, Porter. We don't know where he is--I don't know, you don't know--and before we find out he'll be loose again."

"But--Jim--Weeks don't forget that kind of thing, McNally--Jim Weeks--"

"Oh, d.a.m.n Jim Weeks! I'll take care of him."

Porter paused to drink at a gulp what was left of his coffee.

"Remember, McNally, I can't back you if you get careless--I can't back you, you know."

"G.o.d, man! you've got to back me! You've got to back me through everything, or you'll go down with me. I tell you, Porter, we're too far in to back out, and it's nerve that's going to win. If you don't back me, if you don't draw on every cent you've got to shove it through, you'll be the one to be hit--not me." He paced the floor. "Yes, sir. It's you if it's anybody." Suddenly he stopped. He looked hard at Porter, then he turned quickly and strode into the office. Katherine was standing at the window.

"Miss Katherine--"

"Mr. McNally, my name is Miss Porter."

"Miss--Miss Porter, I met a friend of yours this morning. I met him under peculiar circ.u.mstances. We had some words, I regret to say, and he left this with me." The plump, dirty hand drew a blue envelope from McNally's coat pocket. "It has seemed to me that where your father's honor was as seriously involved as in this matter, you should have followed some other course than that of traitor."

In his excitement, McNally misunderstood Katherine's silence.

"You have deliberately drawn out your father and me that you might aid our opponents. I have watched you--I have seen it--it is not your fault that we are not ruined--and for the sake of a man that I caught spying on us this morning, sneaking through the bushes in the dark--"

There was a groan from the doorway. Porter stood there with one hand over his eyes. Katherine looked for an instant, then she brushed past McNally, and with one arm about her father she called to the Captain, who stood at the other side of the waiting room. He came at once.

"Captain," she said, "I must ask you to take care of my father. Please telephone for a doctor and a closed carriage, and see that he is sent home at once. I shall drive there in the trap to prepare for him. Don't let this man"--she turned contemptuously toward McNally--"speak to him or excite him in any way. Will you do this?" As she spoke her face softened, and she held out her hand. The Captain took it.