"No," said Davies, promptly, "she got to the hospital by merest accident. Louis Cranston's throat was sore, and he was coughing a great deal. She went for medicine, and I happened to meet her on the way."

"But they said there was such a romantic scene; he wept and clung to her hand, and----"

Here Burroughs opportunely and somewhat aggressively burst into a guffaw of derisive laughter. "Miss Loomis is just one of those admirable women," said he, "that empty-headed idiots prate about. I wish other people had half her sense." A luckless way of essaying the defence of the absent, for it reflected on many a woman present.

"Fie! Dr. Burroughs," exclaimed Mrs. Flight. "Your blushes give you away, even more than your words. Don't you be falling in love with Miss Loomis. She's aiming higher than one room and a kitchen and a thousand a year." Whereupon there was shrill laughter, and further accusation and indignant protest from the ill-starred medico. And Davies, who ought to have rejoiced in the loyalty of such admiration for his friend and whilom nurse, was conscious of a pang of annoyance and aversion. The entrance of the old chaplain and his wife, and dark, swarthy Leonard with the handsome partner of his joys and sorrows, gave instant turn to the conversation. In a very few minutes Mrs. Flight and two younger matrons took their departure, Almira following them with rustic regretfulness, and exchanging some whispered confidences at the door, which brought new flush to Davies's anxious face. Mrs. Leonard was speaking of a recent visit "up the road," as in those days the Union Pacific in its westward climb to the Rockies was referred to. She had had such a lovely visit to Fort Russell, and had so much to tell about affairs in that particularly swell regiment, the --th, and the Truscotts had entertained her at such a pretty dinner; Mrs. Truscott was charming, and Mrs. Stannard was such a n.o.ble woman, and they were all so interested in Mr. Ray's engagement. It was practically announced. He was to be married to Miss Sanford--an heiress and a great catch--early in June, and this led to the chaplain speaking of Ray, whom in days gone by he was p.r.o.ne to look upon with little favor, if not indeed as a ne'er-do-well. "I always feared that he would fall, and I am so rejoiced in this new phase to his character."

"Oh, _I_ met Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Almira, delightedly. "He was ordered in to General Sheridan on some duty late in the summer, and some of the young officers, Percy's cla.s.smates, said he was such a brave fellow."

"What did the old officers say?" asked Leonard, with a twinkle in his black eyes, but not the vestige of a grin under his heavy moustache.

"They? Oh, I don't remember their saying anything about _him_. They said lots of lovely things about Percy."

"Yes. That's right. I can understand their omitting no opportunity of doing that. One learns to be something of a courtier even in Chicago, when on staff duty, and as for Washington, service there is a liberal education in diplomacy. One never knows who may have the strongest pull with the President in the event of a vacancy in the staff corps."

"Leonard," said the chaplain, gravely, "you're a born cynic and a pessimist to boot. Have we no generous impulses in the army?"

"Lots of 'em. Lots of 'em, chaplain, especially in the line and on the frontier, where we can afford to pat a fellow on the back, since we know that's about the extent of the reward he'll ever get. It's when we're in big society in the East, above all in Washington, one has to be guarded in what he says, or first thing he knows he'll be hoisting some fellow over his own head in a moment of enthusiasm. No. I know just how you regard me, but I spent six weeks of a three months' leave in Washington last winter, and sat night after night at the club, or day after day among the army crowd at the Ebbitt, or in some fellow's den at the Department, and never once did I hear one word of frank, outspoken, fearless praise of some other fellow's work or deeds, unless it were to his face. Ask a man flat-footed if that wasn't a capital scout of Striker's last winter in the Tonto Basin, or if Jake Randlett hadn't done a daring thing in going all alone through the Sioux country to drum up Crow scouts for Crook's command, or what he thought of Billy Ray's cutting his way out through the Cheyennes to bring help to Wayne last June, and ten to one he'll hum and haw and say yes, he _did_ hear something about that, and now that I mentioned it he believed Striker or Jake or Billy had really behaved quite creditably, but the whole tone was significant of nothing like what some other fellow I might mention, modesty only forbidding, would have done under similar circ.u.mstances.'

It's just the d.a.m.nation of faint praise. The trouble with the whole gang of those fellows seems to be a mortal dread lest somebody's eyes should be deflected from the valor of the warriors at Washington to that of the warriors on the plains. What recognition do you suppose Ray will ever get for that feat? General Crook says it's useless to recommend him for brevet, because the Senate wouldn't confirm it, and the reason they won't is that those hangers-on about the capital don't mean to let such rewards be given to the men on the frontier. And yet this sort of thing doesn't happen only in Washington. It was a cavalry officer who said of that very affair that Ray was simply a reckless fellow under a cloud, with everything to gain and nothing to lose, and that doing a reckless thing was just as much a matter of instinct with him as battle is to a bull-dog."

It was unusual to see Leonard warm up in this way. Besides the chaplain and the silent host, there were three officers in the dreary little bachelor den at the moment. Each and every one seemed surprised at the adjutant's outbreak, but not one of them at the concluding revelation.

"No need to ask who that was," said Captain Hay, with a prefatory "Humph." "It savors of Devers from first to last. That man is a born iconoclast. He pulls down everybody's idols and sneers at what he cannot pull down,--our ideals."

"Well, now let me ask you," said the chaplain, a man whose broad charity led him at any and all times to the defence of the absent. "Without detracting in the faintest degree from the heroism and value of Mr.

Ray's exploit, are there not degrees of personal bravery, are there not possibilities of an order of courage higher even than his? As I recall him, he was what I should term a fearless man, brave to a fault; but have we not in the army tens and perhaps hundreds of honorable gentlemen who are as keenly susceptible to the thrill of danger as Ray is apparently dead to it? Have I not heard man after man say how his own knees trembled or his comrade's cheek blanched at the whistle of the first bullets of the battle? And as for this Indian campaigning, can there be a warfare imagined in which the percentage of peril is so great, the possibilities of ambush, surprise, sudden death in the midst of fancied security so constant, the daily and nightly circ.u.mstances so full of incessant nervous strain? Now, who is the better soldier,--the really braver, or, perhaps better, the more courageous man,--he who rides the trail utterly reckless of or insensible to its peril, or he who, sighting danger in every bush, scenting death on every breeze, looking every instant for the war-whoop, the death-wound, nevertheless so bears himself with all his faculties in hand as to seem calm, serene, confident, and stands ready for death or duty at any moment? I have always held that the Christian gentleman was the highest type of the highest order of courage; the man who replaced the fatalism of the Mahometan with the sustaining faith of the soldier of the Cross. But I see you think I'm in the pulpit and preaching again," said he, smiling at Leonard. "We both warmed up to our hobby."

They were silent a moment. Across the wintry night the trumpets were singing the lullaby of the crowded garrison, and hurrying footsteps told of belated subalterns speeding to their companies to supervise the roll-calls. Leonard rose to his full height and threw his cloak over his broad shoulders.

"We are more in accord in this matter than you think, perhaps, chaplain; only the man doesn't live who could be insensible to the danger of cutting his way through a band of encircling Cheyennes. I've heard of no braver deed in many a year than Ray's. I doubt if we'll hear of truer grit or courage in many more."

"Perhaps not, Leonard," said the chaplain, as the adjutant paused an instant at the threshold to say he would return the moment he had received the reports. "Perhaps not, nor would I say one word to underrate the heroism of Ray's exploit; but when we do hear of another I look to hear of it in some fellow as firm in his faith as he is in his sense of honor and duty, and some day we shall see."

But Leonard did not return in five minutes nor in ten, and Mrs. Leonard grew anxious. "This never happens unless something unusual has occurred." Captain Hay stepped through the hall and opened the outer door.

"There are lights dancing about over there on the parade near 'A'

Troop's quarters. I wonder what's up. Hullo, Sanders! That you? When did you get back? Did you get your man?"

"Got two of 'em," was the breezy answer. "T'other one disguised as a gentleman in cits and just about starting on the night train for the West,--the gifted Mr. Howard, clerk of 'A' Troop."

Mrs. Davies was standing just within the parlor door at the moment, blushing over the praises lavished on her by the chaplain's impulsive helpmeet and trying hard to say civil and appropriate things to her guests. The officers, one and all, had edged into the hall-way in eagerness to hear the news.

"What was it Mr. Sanders said?" asked Mrs. Leonard, anxious to know what detained her husband. Hay half turned.

"He says they arrested two men, one of them apparently deserting, being in civilian dress and aboard the train,--Captain Devers's new clerk, Howard."

And then every one in the parlor saw that Mrs. Davies was seized as with sudden faintness. She turned very white and grasped at the nearest chair for support. "I'm only dizzy, not ill, or I don't know what it is," she protested, as they crowded round her, and Davies came quickly in, conscious that something was amiss. Nor did she recover her color or her calm. Nervous, fluttering answers only could she give to their sympathetic inquiries, and when presently Leonard reappeared, cool and imperturbable as ever, she was evidently relieved to see her guests departing. The adjutant explained his detention by saying he had gone to the colonel's with Sanders, who had galloped ahead, leaving his guard to bring along the prisoners in an ambulance, Paine too drunk to be able to move. They would hardly arrive before eleven.

"The colonel desires to see you at the office at eight o'clock in the morning," said he in low tone to Cranston. "Howard has been away all day,--since guard-mounting, in fact,--and no report was made of it.

Devers has been notified that the colonel would investigate matters--the whole business, in fact--early to-morrow."

But who can tell what a day may bring forth? Devers, after a sleepless night, filled with foreboding of the wrath to come as the result of that impending investigation, sat nervously over his coffee while the trumpets were sounding first call for guard-mounting, and turned a shade yellower at the ring of the front-door bell. The servant re-entered the dining-room and announced that Lieutenant Leonard, the adjutant, desired to speak to the captain. For a moment he could not rise.

Conscious of his own double-dealing, visions of arrest, charges, court-martial--heaven knows what all--were floating before his startled eyes, but go he had to. Summoning courage, bravado, or something, he swaggered into the hall.

"Oh--ah--step into the parlor, Mr. Leonard," said he, airily, "I presume you're here on business." He was preparing to exhibit amaze--virtuous and soldierly indignation--at the idea of having, all unheard and unrepresented, been ordered into arrest on the prejudiced statement of a swarm of hostile officers and sorely badgered and bullied members of his troop. Well knowing himself to be tottering on the ragged edge of final discovery, his duplicity exposed, his deceit established, he nevertheless braced himself for the supreme effort to bluff to the very last. Thanks to the storm-shed without, the hall was dark, and for a moment he could only vaguely see the huge bulk of the infantryman standing erect before him, the very att.i.tude indicative of stern official purpose.

And then in sudden revulsion of feeling,--in a wild whirl of reviving hope, courage, exultation,--he noticed that the adjutant was without his sword, and listened, spell-bound, well-nigh incredulous and without reply, to the brief official words which Mr. Leonard delivered, then saluting, turned on his heel and left the house.

"It is my duty to announce, sir, that Colonel Stone has had a stroke of apoplexy or vertigo and is seriously ill. As senior captain, you are in command of the post."

CHAPTER XVI.

That beautiful wintry Tuesday morning was as placid and serene as nature could make it, but Fort Scott was in a ferment. Whether stricken by apoplexy, which was the first, or vertigo, which was the later, theory, Colonel Peleg Stone had been found lying bleeding and unconscious at the foot of the stairs, and almost at his parlor door, just after sick-call.

He had arisen early, said his tearful and terrified wife, saying that matters of importance demanded his presence at the office before guard-mounting. He had been wakeful and restless during the night. He had called for hot water soon after reveille, and gone into his dressing-room to shave. This was all she knew until aroused an hour later by her frightened maid, with the tidings that the colonel was lying speechless in the hall. Both doctors and Mr. Leonard were summoned. Violence was hinted at, but the orderly pacing the front piazza declared that no one had entered the front door since he came over and rang the bell to report himself for duty just as soon as he had finished breakfast. "For them was the colonel's orders when he dismissed me last night." Just about sick-call he heard the sound of a heavy fall inside, and presently "Jane come a-runnin'," and told him to rush for the doctors. Alonzo, the colonel's colored body-servant who had followed his fortunes a dozen years, was in the kitchen below stairs, and was sure no one had come in from the rear. He, too, had heard the fall and ran up with Jane, finding his master completely dressed, lying close to the parlor door, with blood streaming from his nose and mouth. There were heavy contusions on the forehead and face, caused probably by his having plunged blindly forward down the stairs. Something in the stertorous breathing suggested apoplexy, but the doctors soon decided against that. It might have been vertigo, or he might simply have tripped at the top and come diving head-foremost all the way down, but his clothing was not in such disorder as that would cause, and neither the orderly, nor Jane, nor Alonzo had heard more than one single crash or thud. Had they examined the parlor and sitting-room to see if any one could have been there hidden? was asked. No, there wasn't time. The house was one of the big double sets of quarters, with hall-way and staircase in the middle, as frequently planned in those days for the commanding officer of the large frontier garrisons. Four large rooms were on the ground floor for use as parlor, sitting-, and reception- and dining-room, all abundantly furnished, as Mrs. Stone was well-to-do, and there were hiding-places enough if some one had stolen in, like a thief in the night. The broad contusion on the forehead might have been caused by some blunt instrument, to be sure, said the senior surgeon, but he thought it improbable. Only one thing was certain,--Pegleg was knocked out. It might be several days, possibly a week, before he could resume duty. Captain Devers came over five minutes after the adjutant left him, and was profuse in sympathy, sorrow, and proffers of aid. The despatch sent to Department head-quarters that afternoon was a model of style, but it did not reach the office until late in the afternoon, so late that the general had gone home with his chief of staff, and not until five o'clock was it placed in the hands of the latter, who took it at once to his commander.

"Whew!" said the chief. "It's bad enough to have Pegleg down, but think of having Devers up, even for a week."

"I don't see what we can do, sir," was the reply. "The lieutenant-colonel of the Fortieth is on leave awaiting retirement, the major on General Sheridan's staff. Major Warren, of the Eleventh, is abroad, and Devers is the ranking captain."

"Well, let it stand," said the general, after a while. "Leonard will look after affairs in the Fortieth, and you look after Devers. If he gets to cutting up any didoes, send him up to the reservation to investigate the trouble up there; it's something after his own heart, I reckon,--or send him anywhere, and let the command devolve on the next captain until Stone's on deck again. Devers says he'll be up in a week."

"That's just what makes me fear he won't be well in a month, and if he isn't able to resume duty, Devers will say he only meant _sitting_ up in bed, probably."

No matter what the opinion attaching to Captain Devers, however, the fact remained that he was now in law and fact commanding officer of the biggest post in the Platte Valley, and meant to make the most of his opportunities. Leonard promptly asked to be relieved from duty as post-adjutant, on the plausible ground that Captain Devers would doubtless prefer to have one of his own cloth and corps in the office, and Devers, well knowing how it would reflect upon him at Department head-quarters, refused to change. "However strained may be our personal relations, the good of the service demands that for the present they be ignored. The differences between us can and shall be adjusted later on,"

was the purport of his reply. Meantime Mr. Leonard could be a.s.sured that he should in no wise be disturbed in his functions as regimental adjutant, or hampered no more than was necessary in those that related to the post. Leonard swore impressively as he read the reply to his friends, Captain Pollock of the Fortieth, and Cranston of the Eleventh, but said nothing to any one else.

Davies was to relieve Hastings as troop duty officer for the week, and a.s.sume charge of roll-calls and stables, all matters between himself and his captain being incontinently shelved after conference with Cranston, Truman, and Hay, until such time as somebody beside Devers should sit in judgment on Devers's acts. The temporary post-commander spent very little of Tuesday morning in the office. With official gravity he signed the ration returns and such papers as were to be forwarded. "All matters concerning the interior discipline of the companies I prefer leaving to their proper commanders," said he, coldly, to the statuesque adjutant, thereby hitting a self-comforting whack at the colonel, who rather liked to interfere. "I have every confidence in the judgment of the captains of the infantry, at least, and as for routine matters you will be pleased to conduct them just as when Colonel Stone was on duty."

Then he went forth to his own sanctum, the troop office, raising his fur cap in acknowledgment of the sentry's shrill, "Turn out the guard; commanding officer!" and once there established, he sent his orderly with directions to the sergeant of the guard. In five minutes prisoner Howard, conducted by an armed sentry, made his appearance, and was received within the sanctum. "You may retire, sentry, until called. I'll be responsible for this man," said he, and from that conference even Sergeant Haney was excluded. The interview lasted twenty minutes, at the end of which time Howard was remanded to the guard-house and Paine brought over in his place. Howard swaggered insolently past the sergeant of the guard on his return, and when told to get ready to go out to work, replied, "I guess not, Johnny, unless you want to lose your stripes." But Paine came "home" scared and abject. Men in quarters said that both the captain and Sergeant Haney stormed at him until he didn't know black from white, and the temporary company clerk, excluded from the office during the conference, was called in finally to witness Paine's signature to a paper, the contents of which he did not see at all.

All day Tuesday Davies was occupied in getting his furniture and traps into Number 12, and Almira--pretty as a picture, and eagerly a.s.sisted by her now intimate friends, Mesdames Flight and Darling--was tacking up curtains, brackets, and knickknacks. Army women have a gift of making even a burrow look cheery and attractive, though they do acc.u.mulate an amount of truck that becomes embarra.s.sing in the inevitable event of a move. On Wednesday, however, as has been said, his week of troop duty was to begin, and at gun-fire he was up and dressed and ready for business. Devers did not come down to stables. The first sergeant made the various reports in somewhat off-hand and perfunctory style, but Davies took, apparently, no notice of his manner, and, joining Captain Cranston as soon as he had inspected the stables on the return of the horses to their stalls, the two friends strolled slowly up the winding road to the parade, the last officers to return homeward. Sick-call was sounding as they pa.s.sed the barracks, and Captain Devers met them on the walk. Both officers saluted the post-commander, Davies in silence, Cranston with an accompanying "Good-morning, sir." Devers responded in the briefest possible way and went at once to business.

"Mr. Davies, that man Brannan will be returned to the troop from hospital this morning. See that he is immediately confined in the guard-house." And then, with his orderly following, the commander went his way. Sergeant Haney was standing not forty yards away on the barrack-porch awaiting his captain's coming. Such instructions were generally given by the company commander direct to the first sergeant, and the purpose of making Davies the medium and Cranston the witness of the order was apparent at a glance. Devers meant to inflict his punishment not only upon the soldier, but upon those who dared either in person or through some "member of the household" appear as the soldier's friend.

"What should I do, captain?" asked Davies, sadly. "Turn and carry the order to the first sergeant at once?"

Cranston looked back, saw Devers halt to say some words to the troop farrier, and seized the opportunity.

"Yes, and I will go with you to be ready to testify to your having obeyed."

Retracing their steps, the two approached the quarters. "Go no farther,"

said Cranston, in low tone, as they got about half-way and were close to where Devers stood. "Call the sergeant to you here." Davies did so, and Devers whirled around in surprise. Haney came promptly, b.u.t.toning his overcoat on the way. It wouldn't do to "slouch" in presence of Cranston, whatsoever he might dare with a new lieutenant.

"Sergeant," said Davies, "the captain orders that Trooper Brannan be confined in the guard-house the moment he returns from hospital."