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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76813 ***
+
+
+                           Transcriber’s Note
+
+Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ in this transcription. Small
+capitals text is displayed as ALLCAPS.
+
+                                   ————
+
+See the end of this document for details of corrections and other
+changes.
+
+                         —————————————————————
+
+
+            +——————————————————————————————————————————————+
+            |             CAPT. CHARLES KING’S             |
+            |                                              |
+            |           Popular Military Novels.           |
+            |                   ————————                   |
+            |        THE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS DINNER,       |
+            | and Other Stories. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. |
+            |                                              |
+            |                 CAPTAIN BLAKE.               |
+            |     Illustrated. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25.   |
+            |                                              |
+            |            THE COLONEL’S DAUGHTER.           |
+            |     Illustrated. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25.   |
+            |                                              |
+            |                MARION’S FAITH.               |
+            |     Illustrated. 12mo. Extra cloth. $1.25.   |
+            |                                              |
+            |      STARLIGHT RANCH, and Other Stories.     |
+            |              12mo. Cloth. $1.00.             |
+            |                                              |
+            |               KITTY’S CONQUEST.              |
+            |           12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00.          |
+            |                                              |
+            |       LARAMIE; or, The Queen of Bedlam.      |
+            |              12mo. Cloth. $1.00.             |
+            |                                              |
+            |       THE DESERTER, and FROM THE RANKS.      |
+            |           12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00.          |
+            |                                              |
+            |       TWO SOLDIERS, and DUNRAVEN RANCH.      |
+            |           12mo. Extra cloth. $1.00.          |
+            |                                              |
+            |                    ———————                   |
+            |                                              |
+            |     J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers,    |
+            |                 PHILADELPHIA.                |
+            +——————————————————————————————————————————————+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+          “She paused abruptly upon the threshold, and for an
+                    instant simply stared at them.”
+
+    [_Frontispiece._]                                 [See page 92.]
+]
+
+
+
+
+                         THE COLONEL’S DAUGHTER;
+
+                                   OR,
+
+                           WINNING HIS SPURS.
+
+
+
+                                   BY
+                       CAPT. CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
+
+
+                          WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+                              A. F. HARMER.
+
+
+                              PHILADELPHIA:
+                        J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
+                                  1892.
+
+
+
+
+                                ————————
+               Copyright, 1882, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
+                                ————————
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                        MRS. JAMES B. RICKETTS,
+
+                                  WHO,
+
+              WHETHER SHARING THE LOT OF WOUNDED PRISONER,
+
+                                   OR
+
+                GRACING THE HIGHEST CIRCLES OF SOCIETY,
+
+                                HAS BEEN
+
+                        THE DEVOTED WIFE TO ONE,
+
+                                  THE
+
+                   FAITHFUL FRIEND TO MANY A SOLDIER,
+
+                                  THIS
+
+                        ARMY STORY IS DEDICATED.
+
+
+
+
+                                PREFACE.
+
+
+Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson is responsible for the statement that
+“Spartans, stoics, heroes, saints, and gods use a short and positive
+speech.” This may account for the fact that there are no conversations
+worth reading in this entire story.
+
+The spontaneous wisdom and eloquence that animate the characters of
+Bulwer and Disraeli to the habitual and familiar use of language
+outrivalling the diction of Richelieu; the colossal attainments of
+the natives neighboring Chattanooga, as set forth in St. Elmo, and
+discovered (by aid of the unabridged) in their off-hand chats; the wit
+and sparkle of that phenomenally delicious couple, Tom and Bessie, who
+irradiate not only “One Summer,” but every season in which they may be
+encountered,—all will be found wanting herein. My people simply talk,
+as people in the line of the army _will_ talk,—most prosaically.
+
+When it comes to portraying life in the staff, as opposed to existence
+in the fighting force, needless to say some other pen must be employed
+than that of
+                                                      THE AUTHOR.
+  November, 1882.
+
+
+
+
+                        THE COLONEL’S DAUGHTER;
+
+                                  OR,
+
+                           WINNING HIS SPURS.
+
+                               ————————
+
+                              CHAPTER I.
+
+
+“Sergeant-Major!”
+
+“Sir-r-r!” and the rasp and rattle of a hastily-moved chair preceded
+but an instant the appearance of a soldierly form in the doorway.
+
+“That Prescott mail’s late again to-day?”
+
+“Yes, sir; been late every time last three trips.”
+
+The sergeant-major clips his words as close as his cropped hair and
+uses no superfluities. Having said so much he waits, mutely “standing
+attention,” for his superior’s next remark. The latter is dreamily
+contemplating a pair of rather shapely feet perched on the desk in
+front of him, and tapping the boot-toes thereof with a long ruler.
+Finally he queries,—
+
+“Think that man Finnegan’s been drinking again?”
+
+“Looks like it, sir; but can’t say. Horse shows hard riding every night
+when he gets in; but you can see him for six miles up the valley, and
+he comes at an easy lope all the way from the Point.”
+
+The adjutant slowly lets down his long legs, quits his chair, takes
+from its case a signal-service binocular and saunters to the open
+doorway leading to the parade. His subordinate remains a moment, in his
+invariable attitude, at the door of the inner office, then, finding
+himself addressed no further, steps back quickly as he came.
+
+Leaning against the post of the narrow piazza in front, the adjutant
+blinked his eyes in unwilling deference to the blazing sunlight and
+gazed out towards the north.
+
+Before him, straight away, lay a level barren of gravelly earth,
+brown and desolate: no sprig of grass, no sign of shrub or tree; the
+parade of Camp Sandy, in the year of our Lord 187-, was as bald as
+the head of the commanding officer. Midway between the office and the
+glistening white line of picket-fence that spanned the northern limit
+of the garrison a lance-like staff shot upward into the burning vault
+of heaven, and from its summit hung motionless the heavy folds of blue
+and scarlet and white, the symbol of Yankee supremacy in the midst
+of surrounding desolation. It hung aloft as though paralyzed with
+wonderment at its unlovely companionship,—
+
+    “It hung in the heat like some bright dead bird,
+     And the air was so still you could hear the tramp
+     Of the pacing sentry all over the camp.”
+
+Bounding this arid surface on right and left were two long lines of
+adobe buildings. Those on the eastern side, with their broad piazzas
+and mansard-roofs, indicating in greater pretence the homes of the
+officers of the command; those on the left, low, one-storied, and
+colorless as the dun hue of the parade itself, the quarters of the men.
+
+Beyond the former, a thousand yards away, rose a turreted palisade of
+conglomerate shale and yielding sandy earth that shut out wall-like
+all view to the east. At its foot rolled the shallow stream from which
+the post derived its sole supply of water. It never seemed to rain at
+Camp Sandy, though torrents might be descending in the mountains that
+shut it in. To the west, beyond the line of barracks, lay, in the same
+colorless clods of adobe, the cavalry stables,—the quartermaster’s
+“corrals,”—and beyond them tumbled heaps of foot-hill rolling higher
+and higher until, in the near distance, they rose a thousand feet
+above the plateau and joined the long ridge of mountain-chain that
+stretched down, claw-like, from the grand range of the California
+Sierra. Northward the eye roamed over a valley hemmed in towards the
+setting sun by dark, pine-covered mountains, while on the other side,
+vivid, dazzling, scintillating in the blazing rays, lay the barren
+yet brilliant cliffs of the Red Rock country. The winding fringe of
+cottonwood in the valley depths—a lively green contrasted with the
+sombre hue of all nature near it—marked the course of the stream, and
+far, far to the north, plumb under the spot where the pole-star glowed
+at night, a snow-capped peak glistened and shimmered through the heated
+air, the one gleam of blessed coolness vouchsafed in the entire picture.
+
+Still holding his binocular in his listless hand, the adjutant lounged
+in the shade of the porch, and gazed drearily over the scene before
+him. Save the occasional lizard, darting about the sun-baked parade,
+no sign of life or motion greeted the eye. Along “officers’ row”
+every blind was tightly closed against the blazing west. One or two
+sleeping forms could be detected along the shade-line of the opposite
+“quarters”; but even at the guard-house the sentry had been drawn
+inside, and was pacing the narrow corridor in front of the barred
+windows, through which swarthy, hungry-eyed Apache faces were doubtless
+glaring out in miserable hatred of their captors.
+
+It was a cheerless scene, and in face and form, expression and
+attitude, there could be detected on the part of the one visibly
+wakeful being a thorough appreciation of its dreariness. Tall, “six
+feet two in his stockings,” lithe and thin in flank, but with massive
+shoulders and powerful limbs, the adjutant’s form would have enraptured
+the life guardsmen of England. Clad in the coolest of white duck and
+flannel, every line of his frame was patent to the observer, and the
+head and face were fitting accompaniment. Eyes of darkest hazel, a
+straight, slender, broad-nostriled nose, a mouth firm and clear-cut
+under the curling moustache, chin and jaw square, resolute, and
+clean-shaven, forehead broad and white, in odd contrast to the bronze
+that spread over face and neck, hair that might have been dark and wavy
+in boyish days, but now close-cropped to the shapely head, the adjutant
+was well termed among his comrades a “splendid-looking fellow.” Yet
+at this moment the whole face was marred by its expression of utter
+weariness and discontent.
+
+Turning sharply with a disgusted snap of the case, he looked at the
+thermometer hanging well back in the shade,—
+
+“One hundred at 5 P.M.! Well! not so bad as yesterday, but hot enough
+for Tophet. What _in_ Tophet did we ever take this hole from Mexico for
+anyhow?” is the muttered comment that falls from his lips. “An ape or
+a Greaser is the only thing on two legs fit to live in this infernal
+Arizona, and yet, by gad, here’s old Pelham going to bring his wife and
+daughter out to join.”
+
+Something in the absurdity of this last idea provoked a smile upon the
+face of Mr. John Truscott, adjutant of Uncle Sam’s —th regiment of
+cavalry, and while he did not give way to soliloquy his thoughts ran
+somewhat as follows:
+
+“She’s the girl” (she being, of course, Miss Pelham, the daughter
+aforementioned) “the youngsters have all been raving about for the
+last two years. Just finished school in New York, but spent her last
+two summers at West Point, and had no end of adorers in the graduating
+class. I half fancy Glenham to be one of her victims. Almighty good
+thing for her and the old folks if he _is_, for the Fates have blessed
+him with infinite lucre, and those three boys of Pelham’s have drained
+him poor as—as, begad, as I am. Wonder what she’s like anyhow? You
+never can tell from what these young fledglings say. Good lord! how
+long it is since I’ve had a glimpse of a pretty face, or anything
+civilized!”
+
+Mechanically, Mr. Truscott turned once more northward, and, adjusting
+the glass, took a long survey of the valley and the point where the
+road disappeared among the mountains. This time, with better success,
+his practised eye noted the faintly visible whiffs of dust, rising at
+intervals beyond the cottonwoods, yet four miles away.
+
+A sudden clatter of hoofs came rapidly up the slope in rear of the
+office from the south, and a horse and rider plunged into space by his
+side.
+
+“Mail in yet, Jack?” shouted a fresh cheery voice, and the sunburnt,
+bright-eyed young face of the horseman beamed down upon the adjutant.
+
+“Nary,” is that official’s inelegant but terse reply. “Coming though, I
+think,” he adds, as he notes the shade of disappointment creeping over
+the features of his interrogator. “Where have you been?” he asks. “You
+must find riding hot work such a day as this?”
+
+“Can’t help it,” replies the junior, swinging lightly to the ground.
+“Old Catnip says those herds have got to be visited by the officer
+of the day at least once before stable-call, and I made it late as I
+could. You look bored to death, Jack.”
+
+Now, just why every officer in that garrison should invariably address
+Mr. Truscott as “Jack” is one of those mysteries which has puzzled
+metaphysicians. Some profound thinker has recorded as the result of his
+observations that a man hailed by his fellow-men by his Christian name
+may be beloved, but is always “blind to his own interests.” The two
+fit into one another after a fashion, for it usually happens that the
+man “blind to his own interests” is apt to be the most unselfish and
+considerate fellow imaginable, and as such is apt to be popular, and,
+in army circles, to have “troops of friends” until, in his blindness,
+he stumbles into a scrape, when it is curious to mark how quickly the
+“Jack” gives place to the distant surname, and the friends dwindle
+to few. Mr. Truscott _was_ popular, but it rose from no pronounced
+“blindness to his own interests.” He was generous, even lavish, in his
+way, but with all the fact of an acknowledged intellectual superiority
+over his comrades, and the record of being a splendid soldier and a
+“thorough-bred” gentleman, the best explanation of his popularity,
+perhaps, is to be found in the remarks of Captain Tanner on the
+subject. “I like Truscott,” said he, “because in the eight years I’ve
+known him he has never spoken ill of a man behind his back, and because
+he holds a woman’s name as sacred.” The knot of officers to whom this
+opinion was delivered contained no dissenter. Yet Mr. Truscott had his
+enemies. A certain uncompromising “hit-or-miss” way of doing his duty,
+and coming down hard on delinquents, had stirred the rancor of more
+than one of his brethren, who, negligent or ignorant themselves, had
+no patience with his sternly military system, and, having been rapped
+over the official knuckles by the commanding officer, they would gladly
+have seen the adjutant deposed from his influential position. Nor was
+it among his own sex that Mr. Truscott had acquaintances who were not
+all well-wishers. In the utter isolation of that distant station those
+ladies of the regiment who had followed their husbands in their exile
+(and perchance brought unmarried sisters with them) had, or fancied
+they had, little else to talk of than the affairs of the garrison and
+of their neighbors. Possibly that very trait which so aroused the
+enthusiasm of Captain Tanner, “that he held sacred a woman’s name, and
+could not be brought to speak ill of one,” was the very thing which
+rendered him unbearable to some three or four of their number. For how
+inexpressibly stupid in the eyes of one woman is the man who cannot be
+induced, for her entertainment, to criticise another!
+
+Treating them one and all alike with a certain grave courtesy and
+gentle deference, he trod metaphorically upon the sweeping trains of
+both Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turner, and in the observance of a strict
+neutrality had at one time or other given offence to these rival belles
+of the garrison. “Why,” said Mrs. Raymond, “I merely hinted to him at
+the hop last week that Mrs. Curtis’s last dress from San Francisco must
+have been a frightful tax on her husband’s pay, and you know it was,
+and he drew himself into his shell in that awfully superior way of his
+and fairly snubbed me.” Now, Mr. Truscott was incapable of “snubbing”
+any woman. Grant-like, he fell back upon an inflexible silence when
+pressed for his opinion on matters of which he chose not to speak.
+But this passive rebuke was to women of Mrs. Raymond’s calibre as
+exasperating as an active “snub,” and in her feline way she resented it.
+
+Neither she nor her sisters in garrison cared to declare open war
+against the best-looking man and one of the best partners in the
+command. Besides, Mr. Truscott had a way of showing very delicate
+attentions to the ladies of the regiment, though distributing all
+such with a strict impartiality; for whether from hunting, a trip to
+Prescott, or the rare luxury of a “leave” in San Francisco, he seldom
+returned without an acceptable remembrance for each and every one.
+Then, too, he had all the latest books and magazines. “He kept up
+his reading,” as the officers said, and his taste was indisputable.
+Younger officers went to him in their troubles and perplexities, sure
+of sympathy, and surer still of inviolable confidence; older officers,
+sorely against their will at times, consulted his opinions on matters
+wherein they should have been, but were not, thoroughly informed.
+But for his part, it was a circumstance of frequent remark that he
+never once was known to seek advice or sympathy, and never alluded to
+affairs of his own. Many and various were the theories advanced as
+to why Mr. Truscott, at the age of thirty, remained unmarried. Most
+of his brother-officers had taken unto themselves wives, and were as
+happy as is possible under such circumstances, but to all questions,
+however deftly put, bearing upon the matter, the adjutant replied
+with imperturbable gravity that he thought too much of the sex in the
+abstract to offer it anything so unworthy its acceptance.
+
+There were matrons in the regiment who looked upon him as a most
+eligible catch for a younger sister, and who had imported such sisters
+in days when the —th was stationed in climes more accessible for the
+avowed purpose of capturing the tall subaltern, but Jack appeared as
+serenely unconscious of their wiles as he did of the oft-thrown signal
+for flirtation from some of the giddy matrons themselves. Tradition
+had it that Mr. Truscott’s obduracy was due to a love-affair of long
+standing; that since the days of his graduation he had adored and been
+adored by a damsel far away in Massachusetts, and for a time it was
+known that delicate missives with a womanly superscription reached
+him from that quarter; but, some three years before, he had gone East
+on a long leave of absence, and when the regiment received orders for
+Arizona had suddenly reappeared in their midst, older, graver, and
+at times very absent-minded, but never since had he sought further
+opportunity of going to “the States,” and his secret, whatever it
+might be, was buried in his own bosom. Wherever there are women there
+are apt to be audacious flirts, and many a time had some practised
+coquette baited her hook in the vain hope of getting a rise from the
+adjutant of the —th. It would be a reflection on his sagacity to say
+that he did not see the fly, but he possessed the faculty of appearing
+so utterly obtuse as not to see it, and, whether real or assumed, his
+indifference was unmistakable. Nellie Blossom, the brightest, merriest,
+and withal the fairest girl known to military circles in the West,—the
+niece of one of the prominent officers of the department,—had actually
+been accused by the critical matrons of the garrisons of Prescott and
+Camp Sandy of having thrown herself at Jack Truscott’s head. But she
+had returned to San Francisco wiser if not sadder, and was last heard
+of flirting desperately with the artillerymen at Alcatraz and the
+Presidio, and when inquisitive Circes of Camp Sandy sought to probe
+Jack’s inner consciousness, they received for all answer an assurance
+that if he could admire any one as much as he did the ladies of the
+—th, that lady was Miss Blossom.
+
+One day “Old Catnip,” as he was popularly termed, Colonel Pelham, as
+he was known officially, electrified the garrison of Camp Sandy by
+the information that Mrs. Pelham and his daughter Grace were coming
+out to join. Now, it is a peculiarity of the ladies of the army that
+the simple announcement of a fact is as stimulative of conjecture and
+reflection as was the fall of Isaac Newton’s apple. There wasn’t a
+woman in all Camp Sandy who did not immediately set to work to fathom
+the motives of Mrs. Pelham in thus suddenly starting for such an
+utterly out-of-the-way place as Arizona; and there was not a woman in
+all Camp Sandy who by noon on the following day had not decided that
+she was coming to capture Lieutenant Arthur Glenham and his handsome
+fortune. Grace was a girl of sixteen at school when the regiment was
+hurried to the Pacific coast, and Mrs. Pelham had decided to remain in
+New York until her daughter’s education was completed. Each summer she
+had gone with her to West Point, where Grace had been an acknowledged
+belle among the cadets, and where frank, whole-souled young Glenham had
+most unequivocally shown himself an adorer. It was said that he had
+gone so far as to offer himself to Grace, saying humbly that “he wasn’t
+much to look at, but at least he could offer the woman he loved a home
+and an ample fortune.” Grace never told it to a soul, nor had she
+encouraged the boy, but a sharp-sighted mamma had noted every symptom,
+and speedily won from Glenham himself a statement of his prospects
+financial, and had bidden him hope as regarded his prospects otherwise.
+Meantime, jolly old Pelham had established his headquarters at Sandy,
+and his red face and bald head could be seen for an hour each morning
+at the office, after which they were invisible until sundown, when
+he reappeared on the veranda of his quarters ready to chat with any
+one who came along, and was completely happy if three or four of his
+officers would consent to spend the evening and play whist with him.
+
+Glenham’s classmates had exchanged some sly witticisms when the order
+assigning him to Pelham’s regiment was received, and it was said at
+Sandy that the colonel eyed the young gentleman very sharply when he
+reported for duty. “Mr. Truscott,” said he, “I think that young fellow
+has some good points about him. Suppose you take him in hand and
+draw him out.” So it happened that Glenham had been welcomed to the
+adjutant’s quarters, and, as there were by no means houses enough to
+give each subaltern a “set” to himself, he had there remained to this
+day.
+
+It was Arthur Glenham himself who reined up at the adjutant’s office,
+and it was his cheery voice that accosted Truscott in eager inquiry for
+the mail.
+
+The two officers were a striking contrast. Glenham was short in
+stature, broad of shoulder, stout of limb, with a face almost as broad
+in proportion as his body, with merry laughing blue eyes, a large
+mouth, expanded in the perpetual grin which his perfect teeth rendered
+excusable, a face and form, in fact, indicative of the utmost good
+nature, if not of the utmost intellect. And Glenham was more than
+good-natured. He possessed a trait rare as is an unconscious manner
+in those men to whose grandsires wealth was unknown. His bounty was
+lavish, yet no comrade was allowed to feel that he was the victim of a
+special favor. As a consequence, young Arthur was frequently imposed
+upon by the rank and file of the regiment, who were incessantly coming
+to know “Would the loot’nint lind me the loan of tin dollars till pay
+day?” and then, in emulation of Captain Costigan of convivial memory,
+going off to disburse the amount at the sutler’s store.
+
+For a long time Truscott noted the frequent appearance of the worst
+class of men in the command at the back door of his quarters; they
+invariably inquired for Lieutenant Glenham, and always wanted to see
+him alone. Truscott said nothing, but had no difficulty in divining
+the object of these visits. One day, however, the colonel was more
+conflagratory in temper than was customary; “I’m willing to put up
+with the pay-day spree,” was the warrior’s remark, after some indirect
+profanity, “but here’s the guard-house cram-full of the old topers of
+the garrison this morning, and the sutler swears he hasn’t trusted them
+a cent’s worth. Now where in blazes did they get their money?”
+
+Finding himself addressed, the adjutant replied that he “thought he
+could find out, and, furthermore, could put a stop to it in future.”
+Pelham stared hard at his subordinate for a moment, as though he half
+detected the fact of his entire knowledge of the source of supply. He
+longed to press the matter and extract further information, but in the
+calm gravity of Mr. Truscott’s manner he was vividly reminded of the
+experience of a former colonel of the regiment, and having been in the
+habit of declaring that it served the colonel right, he turned sharply
+on his heel and walked to his private desk. A moment more and his voice
+was heard, placid and low, “Very well, Truscott; you attend to it.”
+
+The story of this previous experience was an old one in the regiment,
+indeed, had been told all over the Plains. Its former colonel was
+blessed with a wife, daughters, and as many unmarried feminine
+relations as Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B., and ordinarily half a dozen of
+them were his guests in garrison. His adjutant, a consumptive relic
+of the war, had won his undying gratitude by taking a sister-in-law
+off his hands, but, as he was compelled to bury that adjutant with
+military honors some six months afterwards, and subsequently to provide
+for both the fatherless and the widow, the benefit was but temporary.
+Then he summoned Truscott to headquarters, and appointed him adjutant
+_vice_ the defunct brother-in-law. Truscott speedily showed consummate
+ability in the performance of his duties, but a correspondent lack of
+inclination for the delicate functions of his predecessor. Resisting
+all feminine wiles, he declined to spend his unoccupied hours in
+dancing attendance upon the sisters, cousins, and daughters, though
+always showing them scrupulous attention at the garrison hops; but
+there was one thing in which he utterly differed from the deceased, and
+in which he succeeded in winning the ill will of every woman in the
+colonel’s household, and, of course, before long that of the colonel
+himself. Nothing would induce him to talk to them of the affairs of any
+officer or lady in or out of the regiment, and no longer could they
+derive information from the man whose position enabled him to be “well
+posted.”
+
+This was outrageous. “The idea that the adjutant of my husband’s
+regiment is going to ignore _my_ position is something I’ll not
+tolerate,” was the repeated remark of “_Madame la Colonelle_” to her
+cronies in the garrison. “You’ll see that he cannot hold it a week.”
+Naturally, in _less_ than a week, Mr. Truscott, from a dozen different
+sources, received what “his friends” chose to denominate “warnings,”
+but he went on about his duties as usual, for the colonel had many
+soldierly qualities that he firmly respected. It pained him greatly
+to note the daily increasing coldness and injustice of the commanding
+officer, but he said nothing.
+
+One morning the storm broke. Something had gone wrong at the colonel’s.
+They were then stationed in Kansas, near a large railway town, and
+it was a source of much gossip that several of the young officers
+were frequent visitors during the midnight hours at places of varied
+entertainment in the vicinity, but none had been absent from any
+roll-call or duty. There are always one or two officers to tell the
+colonel of such affairs, and always ten or a dozen women to tell the
+colonel’s wife, which generally amounts to the same thing.
+
+On this particular morning the colonel’s face was wrathful, and he
+opened fire on his adjutant at once with,—
+
+“Mr. Truscott, what officers were absent from reveille this morning?”
+
+Truscott promptly rose, stood like a statue before his colonel, and
+calmly replied, “None, sir.”
+
+“Then you and they must have made almighty good time back from town.
+I am told you were playing poker at the Alhambra till after four this
+morning.”
+
+“So far as I am concerned your informant is mistaken. I was not out of
+the garrison, sir.”
+
+There were several officers sitting or standing about the room. Some
+slipped quietly out, unwilling to listen to a conversation already so
+painful. Others remained, with attentive ears.
+
+“At all events you know who _were_ there, and I expect you, as my
+staff-officer, to inform me.”
+
+“It so happens, colonel, that I do not know. I have not even heard.”
+
+“Well, I know that you _do_ know who were playing cards in Captain
+Lapham’s quarters two nights ago, for you were seen coming from there
+at ten o’clock, and this was probably the same party.”
+
+“I was Captain Lapham’s guest on that occasion, as were the others,
+colonel; and now I must say emphatically, but with all respect, that I
+never heard of such a thing as its being the duty of the adjutant to
+keep the commanding officer informed of the movements of the officers
+off duty, but as such seems to be your view, I beg to be relieved at
+once.”
+
+“You are, sir, you are; and, had I listened to advice, you would have
+been long ago,” fairly roared the colonel. “Leave the office at once!”
+And, with the respect of every man in the regiment, Jack Truscott
+took himself back to his troop. Some time afterwards, over a year,
+promotions and retirements brought Colonel Pelham to the command of
+the —th, and about the first thing he did was to send for Truscott and
+reinstate him in the adjutancy.
+
+From that day to this the colonel never regretted it, and it was with
+complete assurance that he left the matter of stopping the irregular
+supplies of the garrison to his staff-officer. Glenham’s open-handed
+liberality met with a sudden check, nobody knew why or how, for what
+passed between Truscott and himself was never mentioned, but a report
+rapidly gained credence in Camp Sandy that Mr. Glenham had lost a great
+deal of money in unfortunate investments. Soft-voiced sirens inquired
+of Mr. Truscott whether Glenham had said anything to him about his
+losses, and on Mr. Truscott’s replying gravely that he had not, and
+merely bowing with equal gravity to the supplementary remark, “You
+know, as his room-mate and most intimate friend, I thought he probably
+would have told you. Of course, it’s a matter I would never think of
+mentioning,” the soft-voiced siren had retired in defeat, and conveyed
+her verdict to some chosen intimate that Mr. Glenham must have been
+speculating heavily, she “had been talking with Mr. Truscott, but
+don’t for the world say I said so,” etc. Consequently, when Colonel
+Riggs, the bluff old inspector-general of the department, dropped in
+at Sandy on his way from a hunt, and with his usual happy facility of
+hitting the nail on the head accosted Glenham with, “Hello, youngster!
+I hear you’ve been speculating and lost most of your money,” the boy
+was indignant, and in denying the statement _in toto_ demanded the
+name of Colonel Riggs’s informant, so that in the course of the week
+there was an unpleasantness at Sandy, and Mrs. Turner lost one of her
+admirers. Between Truscott and Glenham there existed a firm friendship
+which nothing seemed to shake. The former was neither demonstrative nor
+outwardly warm in his manner to the younger man, but it was evident
+that he influenced him in everything,—his duties, his tastes, the
+employment of his time, and, though imperceptibly, in the selection
+of his friends and associates. On the other hand, Glenham, in his
+impetuous and enthusiastic way, was wont to talk of Truscott and his
+admiration for him by the hour. So when it was noised abroad that
+Miss Grace Pelham was soon to arrive, and all the story of Glenham’s
+devotion to her was renewed, it was with much amazement and more
+incredulity that the ladies of the garrison heard Mr. Truscott’s answer
+of “Nothing,” in response to their eager queries as to what Glenham had
+ever told him about her.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Big with importance was Mrs. Captain Raymond when the mail from
+Prescott finally came in on this hot September evening and there was
+placed in her hands a letter from no less a personage than “Lady
+Pelham,” as the —th was accustomed to designate the portly matron who
+shared the joys, sorrows, name, and much more than shared the stipend
+of the jolly colonel.
+
+Seldom was it that her ladyship saw fit to honor the lesser lights of
+the regiment with letters written in her august hand. “Never indeed,”
+said Mrs. Wilkins, who was not one of her ladyship’s satellites,
+“unless she has an axe to grind or wants chestnuts pulled out of the
+fire.” Mrs. Wilkins was rich in metaphor, but limited in elegance, and
+from the first had made an unfavorable impression on the new colonel’s
+wife; but none the less was Mrs. Wilkins eager to hear the purport of
+her ladyship’s communication, and so postponed her departure for tea,
+barely restraining her impatience until Mrs. Raymond had finished the
+eight closely-written pages and looked up, expectant of question. “What
+does she say about Grace and Mr. Glenham?” was the first propounded.
+
+“W—ell,” replied the recipient, slowly. “You mustn’t mention it to a
+soul, because she says I’m not to allude to it; but, as you were here
+when the letter came, why, I can’t see how she can expect me to say
+that she did not mention the subject when she did; but you mustn’t
+breathe it. They are _not_ engaged.”
+
+“Oh, of course I knew that all along,” persisted Mrs. Wilkins; “but
+what does she _say_?”
+
+And so after much interchange of solemn promises never to tell a soul
+or betray one another, Mrs. Raymond read to Mrs. Wilkins an extract
+pretty much as follows from the last page of her ladyship’s letter:
+
+“Oh, I knew there was something else I wanted to speak about. You know
+Mr. Glenham, of course, and very probably you have heard some silly
+rumor connecting dear Grace’s name with his. Now let me assure you, my
+friend, there is absolutely nothing in it,—that is, of course, nothing
+definite. He was perfectly devoted to her at West Point, and evidently
+very much in love; but Grace is so young, you know, so perfectly
+childlike, that his marked attention seemed to make no impression upon
+her, and no child of mine shall ever be coerced in a matter of the
+affections. Such things I look upon as criminal in a mother. Of course
+with his fine character and attainments, not to mention his means,
+it might not be a bad match for Gracie, though she _could_ look much
+higher. You have no idea how lovely the child has grown, and only I can
+say how utterly sweet and lovable a daughter she is; but she is very
+sensitive, and with regard to Mr. Glenham is painfully nervous at times
+about meeting him again. She gave him no encouragement at all, and
+assured me that her heart was untouched, but, as I say, she was very
+young and inexperienced, and no one can predict what may come of it.
+Now with your known tact it will be an easy matter to give people to
+understand (without letting it be known that I wrote you) that there is
+no engagement, but that any allusion to the matter in Gracie’s presence
+would be prejudicial”—“Yes, she has written prejudicial, then scratched
+it out and written painful,” said Mrs. Raymond—“painful to her in the
+last degree. Some women are so heedless and others so malicious that
+it would be just like——” And here Mrs. Raymond stopped short with an
+embarrassed cough and “Well, that’s about all,” which Mrs. Wilkins did
+not at all believe, but went off homeward, confident that her ladyship
+had made a most uncomplimentary allusion to herself in the very line
+where Mrs. Raymond balked, which, in fact, she had.
+
+“Don’t tell me any such stuff,” soliloquized the irate lady, as she
+banged the door of her own domicile behind. “That woman will bow down
+to and worship money wherever she sees it, and she’ll just make that
+girl marry him. See if she don’t.” And at an early hour that evening
+Lieutenant Wilkins made his appearance at the card-room down at the
+store, a circumstance that by this time had become the generally
+accepted signal at Sandy that the wind was in the east at “Castle
+Wilkins,” as that subaltern’s quarters were dubbed by the “society” of
+the post.
+
+To just how many more of her intimates that and other portions of
+her ladyship’s letter were read by Mrs. Raymond is not of sufficient
+importance to relate. That she had revealed the chapter on Grace to
+one was sufficient to insure its speedy transmission throughout the
+garrison, not perhaps with strict accuracy as to detail, but with those
+unavoidable embellishments with which the sex succeeds at most times
+in quadrupling the proportions of any story.
+
+Mid-October came, and the blazing sun disappeared at an earlier hour
+behind the range to the west, and crimsoned and gilded the lofty
+battlements of Squaw Peak down the valley even as the evening recall
+from herd and fatigue duty was echoed from the mesa across the stream.
+With each succeeding day old Pelham waxed more jolly and jubilant,
+and huge were the preparations being made at the commanding officer’s
+mansion for the reception of her ladyship and the sole daughter of his
+house and name.
+
+“They sail from San Francisco to-morrow!” he shouted one evening to
+the knot of officers coming in from retreat roll-call, and waving the
+brown envelope of his dispatch, the colonel soon gathered his adherents
+about him. “They sail to-morrow. Come in everybody. Let’s drink their
+health and wish them God-speed!” And the glad-hearted veteran set before
+them the unaccustomed luxury of fruity Cucumungo wine, the nectar of
+Californian vintage, and clinked his glass with one and all in joyous
+recognition of their cordial good wishes.
+
+“I go all the way to the Colorado to meet them,” said he. “They will
+reach Yuma by Tuesday fortnight, and the general has given me his own
+teams and ambulance to bring them to Prescott, and there all of you who
+can must come up to the ball the staff are to give them. We’ll have
+lots of good times, and escort them down here in style.”
+
+Why was it that in his rejoicing the honest-hearted old fellow put
+forth his hand and rested it kindly on young Glenham’s broad shoulder,
+and that he looked into the boy’s flushed and eager face with eyes
+suffused with unbidden tears? Every man in the party noted the fact,
+and even there some smiled significantly.
+
+That night Truscott turned over lazily in his bed, where he had lain
+for some time listening for the regular breathing, placid as a baby’s,
+that generally marked Glenham’s slumber. Then he hailed through the
+open doorway, “Glenham, I wish you’d go to sleep and snore; I miss
+my lullaby. I’ve fixed it all with Wilkins that he is to take your
+duty for a week, so that you can have all that time in Prescott when
+the Pelhams come. Now do go to sleep, and don’t toss about there any
+longer.” And without another word or caring to hear Glenham’s confused
+expression of thanks, Truscott turned his face to the wall again and
+was lost in his own reflections.
+
+Early in November the “Newbern” was telegraphed at the mouth of the
+Colorado, and Colonel, Mrs., and Miss Pelham were the guests of the
+commanding officer at Yuma. Six days more and, their long drive across
+the desert completed, they would be at Prescott. It did not require
+half an eye at Sandy to mark how eager, nervous, and absent-minded
+Glenham had become. It had been arranged that six of the officers,
+including Truscott and himself, were to leave for Prescott as soon
+as the Pelhams arrived there, and that as many of the ladies of Camp
+Sandy were to accompany the party to take part in the festivities
+at headquarters Grand times were anticipated. The staff of the
+commanding general were to give a ball in honor of the arrival of so
+noted an army lady as Mrs. Pelham and so lovely an army girl as her
+daughter. Then the infantry officers of Fort Whipple were to give
+another, and there would be a series of dinner-parties, rides, drives,
+picnics, and possibly hunts in the neighboring mountains. The band
+of the infantry was daily practising the latest and most attractive
+music, imported from New York expressly for the occasion, and their
+energetically eccentric leader was grinning and capering and writhing
+himself into the verge of convulsions in his efforts to make them
+throw _espressione_ into the waltz composed and most respectfully
+dedicated to her Excellenza Signora Colonel Pelham by her most humble
+and admiring servant Paolo Bianchinnetti. Bandmaster Paolo was always
+composing and dedicating waltzes to the ladies of the senior officers,
+and trusting to luck to secure the kindly graces of the younger ones,
+in which course he was wiser in his generation than many a native, for
+while the dancing subalterns swore at him for his execrable time, the
+elders swore by him, and they held the balance of power.
+
+The time was fast approaching. Captains Raymond, Turner, and Tanner,
+with their wives and the three young lady relatives who were to make
+up the party, were to drive in two large ambulances over the mountain
+roads to Prescott, while Truscott, Crane, and Glenham escorted them on
+horseback. The command of the post in Pelham’s absence had devolved
+upon Captain Canker, a martinet in his way, and a man whom a little
+brief authority would transform into a nuisance. The party was to start
+on Monday morning, and on Sunday night, after parade, Mr. Wilkins came
+to Truscott with an air of profound embarrassment. “Jack, I’ve got
+to go to Prescott after all. Mrs. Wilkins has set her heart on going
+within the last ten days, and I cannot get out of it.” Truscott said
+not a word, so Wilkins stumbled painfully on, “I never wanted to go,
+and I know that it will disappoint Glenham, as I had promised to take
+his duties.”
+
+“You were to have taken his tour as officer of the day Tuesday, and
+to have attended his stable and company duties during the week,” said
+Truscott. “When did you decide to go?”
+
+“Not until this morning.”
+
+“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
+
+“Well, I thought Mrs. Wilkins would change her mind.”
+
+“When did you tell Captain Canker?” asked Jack, and a set look came
+into his face as he gazed straight into the eyes of the other.
+
+“I told him this morning, and he said it was all right.”
+
+“That’s all I want to know,” said Truscott, and turning abruptly,
+he walked over to his office. Just as he expected, Captain Canker
+was seated there overhauling some late muster-rolls, and as Truscott
+entered, the temporary commander accosted him with, “Mr. Adjutant, you
+will notify Mr. Glenham that he cannot go to Prescott to-morrow as Mr.
+Wilkins is entitled to the preference, and he has decided to go.”
+
+Truscott replied, quietly, “Very good, sir,” and seated himself at his
+desk as though the matter were definitely settled.
+
+Now, Canker hated his colonel, who had on several occasions interfered
+with his harsh and arbitrary system as troop commander; he heartily
+disliked, yet respected, Truscott, because he was the colonel’s loyal
+and trusted staff-officer, and he was at all times as discourteous and
+fault-finding with his second lieutenant, Glenham, as he dared be at
+a post where the colonel was always ready to listen to any appeal for
+justice, either from officer or man; but Canker was weak withal, and,
+finding that Truscott would ask no questions or express no opinion as
+to his action in Glenham’s case, he proceeded to do just what Truscott
+was morally certain he would do, defend it. “You see, Jack,” said
+Canker, “I must have at least two subalterns here this week. I would
+be very glad to oblige Mr. Glenham by taking stables, recitations, and
+the like, but we must have four officers for officer-of-the-day duty.
+If anybody were here to take his place, I would be delighted to let
+him go.” Truscott continued his calm occupation of conning over some
+company returns, and merely bowed in acquiescence, so Canker continued:
+“It is very disagreeable to me to have to interrupt so pleasant a
+programme, but you see yourself that we ought to have four officers for
+duty, do you not?”
+
+“Undoubtedly,” says Truscott, imperturbably. “We ought to have a dozen.”
+
+“I’m glad you agree with me,” says Canker. “Mr. Glenham is prone to
+think me extremely exacting and capricious where he is concerned, and
+will be more apt to complain than ever.”
+
+“Doubtless he will be much disappointed,” says Jack; “but he will see
+the real reason as quick as the rest of us, and, as he would not think
+of asking any one else to give way in his favor, he will take it as it
+is meant.” And the adjutant looks squarely at his superior as he says
+it.
+
+Canker doesn’t half like the ambiguity of the reply; but after
+scrutinizing the features of his junior in a quick, furtive glance, he
+says, hurriedly,—
+
+“Of course, certainly; but if any of the subaltern officers who are
+going were to remain here in his stead, then I would be willing to let
+Glenham go. However, I suppose every man has set his heart on attending
+those balls, and there will be no chance of that.”
+
+“Every man, to my knowledge, _is_ very eager to go,” replies Jack, “but
+I presume I may say to Glenham that if some one of the lieutenants will
+stay and take his place, he can leave with the party at reveille.”
+
+“Oh, certainly, certainly,” replies Canker. And with that and the
+conviction that nobody will make any such quixotic offer, he presently
+says “good-night,” and goes off homeward.
+
+His footsteps are no sooner out of hearing than Truscott rises and
+strolls out upon the piazza. The silence of night has fallen upon Camp
+Sandy. The bright stars are twinkling aloft through the rare, cloudless
+atmosphere. Here and there along the company quarters a gleam of
+light streams out through open doorway or window upon the parade, and
+some half-dozen of the men are droning a sentimental ditty in a style
+uncultivated, but apparently satisfactory to themselves. Far across
+the parade, along officers’ row, the lights are more frequent, and an
+occasional burst of musical laughter, the soft tinkle of a guitar, and
+the deeper voices of some of the garrison beaux, floating on the still
+night-air, tell where the usual party has gathered on some one of
+the broad piazzas for the evening’s ration of gossip and small talk.
+Truscott sticks his hands deep in his pockets, and, fixing his eyes on
+the toe of his boot, gives himself to solitary reflection. Two or three
+of the greyhounds rise, stretch, yawn, then come up to their friend
+and poke their cool muzzles against his wrists, and mutely plead for
+recognition. He draws his hands from their ambush, and bestows a few
+absent-minded pats upon their sleek heads, emboldened by which, two
+of the lithe creatures place their paws upon his breast and strive to
+lick his face. “Down, Hualpai! down, Verde!” he protests, as he brushes
+them off; then seeing their crestfallen looks as they slink away, he
+whistles them back, whereupon they come, bounding, and Truscott laughs
+to himself, as he covers their heads and flanks with hearty slaps of
+endearment. “Good boy, Wally! good boy, Verde! _You’d_ miss me, at any
+rate. By Jove, I’ll do it!” Another minute and he stepped into the
+telegraph-office, took a couple of blanks from the desk, placed them
+in the ordinary brown envelope, closed it, then turned to the soldier
+operator,—
+
+“Corcoran, several officers will breakfast in the mess room at reveille
+to-morrow. Address this envelope to me, and bring it to me there at
+that time; do you understand?” and with that he left.
+
+Long before the sun came peeping over the Mogollon range (locally known
+as the Mogeyone) on the following morning, and even as the mellow
+notes of the cavalry trumpets floated upward with the flag through
+the balmy air, hailing the dawn with stirring reveille, a busy group,
+horses, mules, and men, were preparing for the start from officers’
+row. A large ambulance, with its frisky four-in-hand of sleek, well-fed
+mules, was loading up with baskets, satchels, and trunks in front of
+Captain Tanner’s quarters, another, similarly supplied and occupied,
+stood at the Raymonds’ door. In front of bachelor’s hall were the
+favorite “mounts” of Truscott, Glenham, and Crane, and those of the two
+orderlies who were to accompany the party. The orderlies themselves
+were busily strapping on the saddle-bags and ponchos of their leaders;
+for while it rarely rained at Sandy, as has been said, it might pour in
+torrents before they reached the Agua Fria. In the mess-room three or
+four officers in riding dress were hastily sipping their coffee, when
+Glenham, feverishly impatient as all could see, rose hurriedly from the
+table, and bidding the others make haste, strode to the door, and there
+bumped up against the telegraph operator.
+
+“For the adjutant,” said the latter, saluting and answering the inquiry
+in the lieutenant’s eye.
+
+Truscott received the brown envelope without a word, slowly opened and
+drew forth the contents, which he glanced over with a slight uplifting
+of the eyebrow, and then silently rose and walked off towards his
+office.
+
+“_Now_, what’s up?” said Crane. “Two to one that means that a scout’s
+to be sent out right away,—those cussed Tontos must be jumping the
+reservation again.”
+
+“If that were the matter the order would come to the ‘C. O.,’ not to
+the adjutant,” said Glenham; “but we can’t wait; it’s time we were off.
+I’ll hail Jack and see what’s the matter.” With that he called his
+orderly, who came up leading the lieutenant’s horse. Glenham quickly
+mounted, and cantered across the garrison after Truscott, overtaking
+him at the office.
+
+The adjutant turned, and, without giving his friend time to question,
+held out his hand. “Glenham, you and Crane go ahead; I can’t leave now,
+but I’ll follow as soon as it is possible for me to get away. Just tell
+the orderly to leave my saddle-bags at the house and take ‘Apache’ back
+to the stable. Off with you, old boy,” as Glenham hesitated, “and good
+time to you; I’m going right to the telegraph-office.”
+
+“One second, Jack: nothing serious, is it?”
+
+“Nothing at all, Glenham; go ahead.”
+
+The ambulances, with cracking whip and plunging mules, were rattling
+out of the north gate; fluttering white handkerchiefs signalled “come
+on;” Crane and his party were mounting; the hounds, leaping, yelping,
+and excited, were rushing about the parade in anticipation of a chase
+up the valley. So with one uneasy, half-dissatisfied glance at his
+friend, Glenham suddenly struck spur to his horse, wheeled, and, with a
+wave of his hand, galloped off in pursuit. Truscott stopped at the door
+and gazed after the stout, bulky young knight, who “bobbed” clumsily
+in his saddle as he rode. A smile half amused, half sorrowful, stole
+over his face. “Poor Arthur, ten times three years in the riding hall
+couldn’t have made him a horseman.”
+
+Three hours later the commanding officer _pro tem._ sat in state
+to receive the report of the officer of the day. The trumpets were
+“turning off” the old guard, and two tall subalterns entered girt with
+sabre and precise in dress. Acknowledging the salute of the first, and
+reaching out his hand to receive the guard report book, Captain Canker
+looked up in amaze at the familiar face and form of the adjutant, who
+calmly raised hand to cap visor and remarked, “I report as new officer
+of the day, sir.”
+
+Canker reddened and stammered for a moment, then hurriedly stuttered,
+“You are not required to perform guard duty, sir. It is Mr. Glenham’s
+turn. Where is he, sir?”
+
+“Well on his way to Prescott, captain. You were so good as to say that
+he could go if any one of the subalterns would remain and take his
+duties. I do that, sir.”
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER III
+
+
+Perched aloft in the very summit of a glorious mountain range, yet
+nestling in the shelter of pine-covered heights sweeping in circle
+around it, watered by the purest and coldest of running streams,
+and revelling in an atmosphere bracing and clear as only a Sierran
+atmosphere can be, the little town of Prescott and the outlying post
+of Fort Whipple owed to nature all their attractiveness. They were
+embowered in a veritable oasis, for, whether from east or west, north
+or south, miles of desert sand or sterile and volcanic rock had to be
+traversed before the eye of the traveller rested upon the glad sight
+of something like civilized homes. In the days of which we write San
+Francisco lay three weeks’ journey away, and more than a month, unless
+one took a bumping trip to the railway by “buckboard,” was occupied
+in the devious route to the Atlantic States. Rugged miners, savage
+Apaches, root-grubbing Digger Indians, swarthy Mexicans, and prowling
+coyotes were the inhabitants apparently indigenous to the soil, but
+to prey upon their necessities those pioneers of civilization, the
+shop-keeping Israelites, had established the inevitable “slop-shop,”
+and those precursors of settlement, the scum and froth borne ever
+upon the outermost wave of the great tide of emigration, the bar- and
+gambling-hell-keepers, had planted their vile booths around the plaza,
+and stood guard with self-cocking revolver over their stock in trade
+ere ever the outlines of that plaza were staked.
+
+A governor in course of time had been duly expatriated to look after
+the interests of the United States in this hopelessly turbulent
+neighborhood, and for some years twice the realized revenue was spent
+in keeping up communication with his exiled excellency. Eventually, as
+a means of recruiting a population fast killing itself off, to the no
+great detriment of society in general, but the undoubted jeopardy of
+the commercial interests of those merchants who had shipped their goods
+thither in hopes of fabulous profit, a few lodes were duly “salted”
+by experienced hands of Californian education, the inflammatory
+announcement was made that Arizona was teeming with mineral wealth, and
+gold, silver, copper, and iron could be picked up by the bucketful.
+A swarm of eager adventurers pushed in to try their luck, and having
+invested their last shilling in the attempt, were compelled to stick
+there and swindle others into coming and doing likewise, and finally
+it was brought about that three regiments and a brigadier-general of
+the United States army had to be scattered broadcast over this barren
+land to whip into subjection the Apache hordes, who looked with not
+undeserved hatred upon the original white invaders, and one of these
+regiments was so composed of horses and men as to comply with the
+generally accepted requirements which in this country entitle it to the
+designation of cavalry.
+
+Two years of sharp work and stubborn fighting in the mountains had
+won for the —th the peace they were now enjoying, but had effected
+many important changes on their muster-rolls. Some of their best and
+bravest had been sacrificed in the thankless task, and bright hopes,
+buoyant, loyal, gallant hearts, lay buried under the worthless soil
+with no other honors than their comrades’ parting volley, no other
+notice than the pithy explanation of the yearly register in its list of
+casualties, “Killed in affair with Indians,” every bit as complimentary
+and gratifying to mourning widow or stricken parent as though it read
+“in pothouse brawl.” What though the regiment could tell (when it chose
+to talk of those things) of deeds of heroism that rivalled the blazoned
+records of the great war or matched the later knightliness of Beresford
+at Ulundi? What though in hand-to-hand encounter young striplings from
+the Point had won their spurs or received their death-wound, and dying
+had, like Philip Sydney, spurned the cooling drink craved in their
+burning agony that an humbler comrade, needing it more than they who
+could but die, might drink and live? What though in the proud, yet
+untold record of their campaigns, thirst and starvation, bitter cold
+and scorching heat, lonely death in a distant land, the torture of
+carriage through miles of mountain wilderness that festering wounds
+might receive the care only to be looked for days’ journey away, all
+were borne uncomplainingly, unflinchingly for duty’s sake? What though
+not one defeat had marred the wreath of hard-won conquests, that never
+had officer or man like craven Cary turned his back upon wounded friend
+or advancing foe? What mattered it that their general, himself as
+reckless in exposure as their hardiest trooper, sought again and again
+the recognition their deeds demanded? An all-powerful if not all-wise
+Congress had decreed that Indian warfare was not war in the sense that
+permitted any honor or reward to be extended to its participants. As
+a Western and consequently friendly Representative once put it, a man
+might sit in an easy-chair through four years of a great rebellion,
+and without ever hearing the whistle of a bullet be “brevetted” all
+the way up from captain to major-general, but let him get shot into
+smithereens in hand-to-hand struggle with the Indians of our mountains
+and prairies, why, that wasn’t war said the Senate, and so the
+recommendations of the general and the nominations of the President
+went into the Congressional waste-basket, and except the copper-bronze
+medal worn by some few enlisted men,—an affair similar in appearance
+and presumably equal in intrinsic value to the old-fashioned cent,—the
+regiment had gone unrewarded.
+
+But peaceful times seemed to have come. Band after band of hostile
+Apaches had surrendered and been gathered on the reservations. Scouting
+expeditions became infrequent, visits began to be exchanged between the
+detached posts, and at department headquarters balls and “hops” were
+of weekly occurrence. The arrival of ladies from the States brought
+about a revival in the latent interest in Eastern fashions, feminine
+conversations became less intelligible to masculine ears, and feminine
+garments as noted at the dancing-parties became scant as to skirt and
+entangling as to trains. Those heroines who had gone into Arizona
+with the —th had originally astonished the Mexican señoritas by the
+balloon-like expansions of dress-goods worn just below the small
+of the back, alluded to as _paniers_, and maintained in position by
+“bustles.” Now it seemed that a new order of things was to come into
+vogue, and Mrs. Wilkins, an exponent in fashions, whatever she might
+be in linguistics, had already won enviable distinction by appearing
+at Sandy in what she assured her friends to be the “very latest style
+of _pol_linay.” The other ladies readily forgave the brief ascendency
+thus acquired in consideration of the sly merriment occasioned by her
+unconscious slaughter of the proper name.
+
+And so it happened that all was jollity in the Territory when Grace
+Pelham arrived at Prescott, and so it chanced that two nights after
+her arrival there were gathered from far and near, from Bowie, Lowell,
+Apache, and Grant, along the southern line of posts, from Yuma and
+Mohave, from all over Arizona little squads of officers and ladies,
+eager as children, after their long exile, to join in the festivities
+consequent upon the coming of her ladyship and the colonel’s daughter.
+
+The day of the staff ball had come. Every instant of Grace’s waking
+hours had been occupied with receiving visits, driving, riding, and
+dining. The delegation from Sandy went _en masse_, at soon as the
+proper toilets could be effected after the rough and dusty drive, to
+pay its respects to madame and to loyally welcome the younger lady.
+Glenham, a radiant, intensified Glenham, was already there, and
+there the ladies and their lords left him when they retired to their
+temporary homes. “He’s simply dead in love with her,” said Mrs. Raymond
+to Mesdames Turner and Wilkins. “Yes,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “and her
+ladyship’s dead in love with his money,” and somehow or other Mrs.
+Pelham was duly informed of the remark before the setting of a second
+sun.
+
+Glenham _was_ dead in love with her. From morning till night he hung
+about the girl; he it was who secured the first ride, the only one
+before the ball; he who was accepted as her escort thereto; he who
+accompanied her to the croquet ground or band concert, who alone of the
+subalterns was invited to the general’s house to sit by the side of the
+sweet, fair guest and dine with them _en famille_.
+
+“It’s a put-up job,” said the slangy and sulky young fellows who were
+vainly striving to “cut in” and catch an unoccupied moment; but between
+them and the apparently unconscious object there ever interposed that
+placidly smiling, imperturbably watchful mother (“that confounded
+old tabby,” said Bay of Camp Cameron). It was all plain sailing for
+Glenham, all rock, shoal, and sand-bar for them.
+
+“But where’s Truscott?” said Colonel Pelham, suddenly, the morning of
+the ball; and with a pang of self-reproach, Arthur Glenham for the
+first time remembered that his friend was left behind. “A telegram
+reached him just as we were starting,” he explained, “and he said it
+would be impossible for him to start until later. He made us come on
+without him, but I surely thought he would be here last night.”
+
+“’Deed and you’re wrong there, Mr. Glenham,” broke in Mrs. Wilkins. “I
+can tell you the whole thing in a jiffy, colonel. With Captain Canker
+in command there was no chance of little Glenham’s getting away, and
+it’s just my belief that Mr. Truscott stayed back in his place. Ah,
+Miss Gracie,” she added, mischievously, “there’s one young man that
+don’t come to his knees even for you.” After which graceful piece of
+_badinage_ the lady confronted Lady Pelham, and the two dames squarely
+met one another’s glance, the war began right there.
+
+In the silence that followed Glenham stood like one in a maze, the
+colonel turned sharply on his heel and left the room. Ray and Captain
+Tanner nearly collided with him in the hall, and came in upon the group
+wondering what old Catnip was damning that man Canker for this time.
+
+Half an hour later Captain Canker, seated in the adjutant’s office
+at Camp Sandy, received a dispatch by telegraph in these words:
+“Department commander desires Lieutenant Truscott’s presence to-night,
+unless services urgently needed.” Canker ground his teeth, threw the
+paper to the adjutant, thrust his hands in his pockets, and strode to
+the door. There he turned and angrily spoke, “You can go, of course,
+but this is a damned piece of interference on somebody’s part.”
+Truscott glanced at the telegram and went on with his writing without a
+word.
+
+Canker walked away half across the parade, then stopped, pondered a
+moment, and returned. “Mr. Truscott, I can’t spare any more teams or
+men. If you go you must ride, and you cannot take your orderly. I don’t
+intend to allow government horses to be ruined by fifty-mile gallops
+while I’m in command,” and with that he was off.
+
+Truscott looked at the clock, sent a few lines to his servant, finished
+his work, and, as the noonday sun beat hotly down, with Sandy far
+behind, he crossed the first range and rode rapidly over into the gorge
+of Cherry Creek—alone.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The ball was at its height. The well-waxed floor, on which the post
+quartermaster had lavished his finest boarding, and enthusiastic
+bachelor officers hours of individual supervision and personal effort,
+shone like satin, and rendered all but those who were thoroughly
+experienced vaguely nervous and reluctant about joining in the most
+solemn of square dances. Around the walls, draped with flag and guidon,
+and glittering with sabre and scroll-work, were interspersed dozens of
+lamps with polished reflectors. Candles and kerosene furnished all the
+illumination that sun or moon withheld, despite official edicts against
+volatile and explosive oils. Crude and warlike as may have been the
+decorations, never did the “swellest” German at Delmonico’s present
+much better music or any better dancing than was to be found at the
+large garrisons of the frontier, and certainly for genuine enjoyment
+an army ball yields the palm to no other. An army lady never becomes a
+wall-flower. She has this one compensation for marrying in the service.
+After two or three seasons in the great cities of the East even the
+prettiest girl becomes to society people _passée_, and, once married,
+only when exceptionally attractive and brilliant does she continue to
+be sought as a partner; but, owing probably to the dearth of young and
+unmarried ladies, the army wife retains all the hold she ever had upon
+bellehood, even increases it in many instances, and the bright and
+witty and dancing woman, though her children be tall as herself, never
+lacks for “attention.” As for the army girl, with any vivacity, with
+any pretensions to beauty or grace, she lives and moves a queen.
+
+And so the ball-room was filled with dancers; the sombre uniforms of
+the staff and the infantry, the gayer trappings of the cavalry, the
+aiguillettes of the aides-de-camp mingling with many an exquisite
+toilet that would have shone resplendent in the distant East. It was
+long after midnight, supper had been served, even the musicians, in
+detachments, had been fed and otherwise comforted, some few elders
+had slipped away and gone homeward, but the ringing music of “Le Roi
+Carotte” sent ten full “sets” through the figures of the Lancers, and
+compelled many a staid spectator to beat time with his feet. Many a
+group of lookers-on watched the spirited movement of the dance from
+corner and doorway, while out in the “club-room,” where numbers of the
+senior officers and non-dancing civilians from Prescott had gathered
+for a smoke, many a time had beaming Colonel Pelham to touch glasses
+with friend or comrade who came to congratulate him on the arrival of
+madame, and to say, with serio-comic earnestness, “By Jove, Pelham, if
+I were twenty years younger there would be another victim on Gracie’s
+list.”
+
+Well might they do her homage. Confessedly pretty before, Grace Pelham
+was simply lovely, radiant, to-night. Taller perhaps than many girls
+of her age, yet not above the average height, with a form slender,
+willowy, and graceful, there was a queenliness in her bearing that
+distinguished her even in her girlhood. Perhaps this was due to the
+carriage of her royal head, for that was Gracie’s glory. Small and
+shapely, it was crowned with a wealth of soft shining hair, the richest
+hue of golden brown, shot with radiant lights and tints of reddish
+bronze. Who could tell its color? “Red, of course,” said Mrs. Wilkins
+at first sight. “Chestnut sorrel,” said Captain Turner, who loved
+the color as that of the mount of his company. “Golden bronze,” said
+Ray of Camp Cameron; and the “bonniest brown in the world,” said a
+poetical aide-de-camp. All about her pure white forehead and temples
+it clustered in shimmering little curls, each with a halo of its own.
+Thence, brushed smoothly back, it was gathered in one massive knot,
+mantling, yet disclosing the perfect shape of the head it graced.
+
+    “A thing to be braided and jewelled and kissed,
+     ’Twas the loveliest hair in the world, my pet,”
+
+was poor Glenham’s constant thought of it, and all too soon that of
+more than one other.
+
+But Gracie’s glories ended not here. The dark eyebrows which spanned
+her forehead were full, boldly marked, yet but slightly curved, and
+underneath the brows, curtained with lids of purest white, shaded and
+fringed with lashes long, thick, and curling, were eyes so large, so
+soft, yet so ready to flash with merriment or sparkle with animation,
+that to look into their dark depths was enough to make more than one
+young fellow long to see them melt with tenderness. Like her hair,
+Grace Pelham’s eyes were indescribable in color, for they too were
+shot with odd little gleams of golden light. “Yellow, you know; real
+like cats,” said Mrs. Wilkins, and yet those eyes were lovely. Lovely
+in the frank, fearless innocence of their gaze; lovely, in the truth
+and purity of soul that shone through every glance; lovely in the
+thought and earnestness of their expression; lovely despite the dash
+of yellow in their hazel brown; lovely enough to be declared her very
+best feature, unless the sweet soft mouth were excepted. Once before
+in his lifetime the narrator had seen such eyes as Grace Pelham’s, but
+not once a mouth like hers. Closed, it was the perfection of Cupid’s
+bow, so unerringly had nature stamped thereon the utmost grace of
+curve and line. Even the point in the short upper lip was as exact
+as though modelled from the marble of Praxiteles. Around the corners
+were clustered such shy little curves and ripples that—that looking
+was longing; and when Gracie smiled, white, even teeth flashed through
+their roseate frame-work. Her mouth was always an attractive feature,
+but simply exquisite in repose. _Du reste?_—a fair oval face, a
+straight, “thorough-bred” nose, a delicately modelled chin with its
+faint suspicion of lurking dimple, a throat and neck white and soft
+and spotless, and hands and feet long, slender, the former at least
+fragile-looking and softly white. “Too thin and scrawny to my taste,”
+said Mrs. Wilkins, redundant in person as she was in criticism.
+“The sweetest girl in the army, Nellie Blossom not excepted,” said
+Lieutenant Ray, as he gazed at her through the canopied entrance to
+the ball-room, and then sighing profoundly as he contemplated the
+mortgaged condition of his pay accounts, turned back into the club-room.
+
+Not a vacancy was there on Grace’s card that night, and though she
+showed no favor, kept no waltz or galop for one who might prove a
+better partner than another, she had engagements for every number
+from first to last before she had been half an hour in the ball-room.
+Glenham as her escort had seized upon the card, and, with boyish
+selfishness, scribbled his initials in five different places. Later in
+the night, finding new applicants for her hand who protested against
+being compelled to go home without one dance with the belle of the
+evening, she had laughingly summoned her cavalier and notified him that
+he must yield at least two of his claims in favor of the unprovided-for
+applicants, a thing that young Arthur most grudgingly acceded to.
+
+Waltz, lanciers, quadrille, and galop succeeded one another in rapid
+succession as the night wore on, and still even matrons and “chaperons”
+danced untiringly; still some new sweet strain from Paolo’s orchestra
+would call the half-wearied ones again to the glassy floor. There was
+marked diminution among the spectators at the windows where, earlier
+in the evening, dozens of the soldiers and the soldiers’ wives had
+gathered to feast their eyes upon the scene within. There was hardly
+an elderly man among the dancers, yet the sets continued full, and the
+spirit and movement untiring.
+
+It must have been late in the morning, past three o’clock, when, after
+a genuine romp through the merry figures of the army quadrille, the
+dancers hurried out in couples to the club-rooms for a breath of fresh
+air and a sip of punch or lemonade, as tastes might demand. Among them
+strolled Grace with her partner, an aide-de-camp on the staff of the
+commanding general, and with him she stopped one moment at a table
+where Colonel Pelham, with three or four oldsters, was deep in a game
+of whist. The colonel looked fondly up into her sweet flushed happy
+face, and taking the hand she had rested lightly on his shoulder,
+pressed it to his cheek, as he inquired,—
+
+“Having a good time, daughter? Any of these boys dance any better
+than your father could fifteen years ago?” Whereat everybody laughed.
+“Fact,” he continued; “I wouldn’t mind trying a tilt with the majority
+of them now, except Ray or Truscott. How does Truscott dance, Gracie?”
+
+“I haven’t met him, father. Is he here to-night?”
+
+“Here!” exclaimed the colonel. “Why! _isn’t he?_ General,” he cried,
+turning suddenly to another table, where, all alone, sat the chief;
+absorbed, as was his wont, in a game of solitaire. “General, hasn’t
+Truscott reported? I declare I had forgotten.”
+
+“Not to me,” said the chief, looking up with an expression of evident
+anxiety. “Where’s Wickham?” A soldierly, black-haired, black-bearded
+officer stepped quickly to him. “Wickham, didn’t you get reply to the
+dispatch to Sandy about Mr. Truscott?”
+
+“Yes, general. Truscott left the post before ten this morning.”
+
+Grace noticed a sudden twitch of the arm of the aide-de-camp on which
+her hand was resting. Looking quickly up, she saw him biting at the
+heavy moustache which shaded his mouth, though his sharp, eager eyes
+were fixed upon the general’s face.
+
+“I don’t understand it,” said Pelham, gravely. “It’s a long, rough,
+fifty-mile ride, but Truscott has often made it in ten hours.”
+
+“Pardon me, Miss Pelham,” quietly spoke the aide-de-camp. “There goes
+the waltz you promised Evans, and he will be tearing things to pieces
+in his efforts to find you if we don’t get back to the ball-room.” And
+with that he led her quickly away, talking laughingly but in three
+minutes he was back beside his chief, and a hurried conversation took
+place in a low tone.
+
+“No, gentlemen,” Colonel Pelham was saying, in answer to a suggestion
+from the card-table, “it’s no case of a lost shoe or a lame horse.
+Truscott never was known to lame a horse or to start with a loose
+shoe. Something has gone wrong, or he would have been here before ten
+o’clock, and now it’s half-past three.” Another minute, and after some
+muttered words with the general, Wickham and the aide-de-camp silently
+slipped out of the room.
+
+Even the Pelham ball (as it was long afterwards termed among the
+participants) had to come to an end some time. Yet it was after four
+o’clock when the last waltz found still a dozen enthusiastic dancers
+gliding about the room, and the performer on the double-bass, falling
+asleep to the droning accompaniment of his own music, was aroused by a
+kick to the consciousness that his comrades were playing “Home, Sweet
+Home,” while he was still sawing away at his part of “Künstler Leben.”
+From first to last it had been one glowing triumph for Grace, and her
+ladyship had listened with pardonable and parental pride to many a
+tribute to her daughter’s beauty, her winning ways, and unaffected
+manner. Now, as fleecy wraps were being donned previous to venturing
+forth into the sharp morning air, Mrs. Pelham stood at the door of
+the dressing-room exchanging last good-nights with those who had
+lingered to the end. Of these were our Camp Sandy party, one and all
+indefatigable dancers, except Lieutenant Wilkins who had long since
+been snoring with his head on his arms in a sheltered corner of the
+card-room; but even the asperity of his better-half had melted under
+the genial influences of such music, such partners, and such punch,
+and for once she had spared him public reprimand; but the sight of
+her ladyship, smiling, portly, and majestic, showering confidential
+salutations upon her intimates and condescension upon the juniors, was,
+as she happily expressed it, “the red rag for my bull,” and once more
+the matrons met with a clash, and one incident occurred to mar the
+equanimity with which Mrs. Pelham had witnessed her daughter’s triumph.
+It had required no keenness of perception throughout the evening to
+note how thoroughly she had kept Grace and her partners under view;
+how eagerly she watched the devotion of Glenham; how frowningly the
+attentions of such ineligibles as Ray, Evans, Hunter, and the like had
+been regarded; for poor as those youngsters might have been in pocket,
+in point of personal attractions poor Glenham had little to offer in
+competition with them.
+
+“Ah, Mrs. Pelham,” said Mrs. Wilkins, halting in front of the colonel’s
+wife, “Miss Gracie has won all hearts to-night. I predict it won’t be
+long before we have a grand wedding at this rate. Sure all the young
+fellows will be cutting one another’s throats if she isn’t married
+inside of the year.”
+
+Amazed at the effrontery of her manner, as well as stung by its
+fearlessness, Mrs. Pelham’s portly bosom swelled with wrath, and the
+color surged to her forehead. In the desperately hopeless effort of
+crushing her foe with an overwhelming hauteur, she replied,—
+
+“It is to be hoped, Mrs. Wilkins, that my daughter will have too much
+character to rush into any such matrimonial gulf as you suggest. She
+will be guided by her parents, not by freak or fancy, and need be in no
+hurry.”
+
+“’Deed and you’re right, Mrs. Pelham; she’ll never be in a hurry so
+long as only such brainless boys as Glenham are allowed to approach
+her. But wait till men like Truscott step in. It’s her father’s own
+daughter she’ll be then, or I’m mistaken.” And a sarcastic laugh was
+the only rejoinder her ladyship had time to make before Glenham and
+Grace appeared at her side; but wrath was in her heart and vengeance
+plotting in her brain as she turned to her escort.
+
+It was so new to her to be braved and badgered this way by a woman
+vastly her inferior in social station; the wife of an officer, to be
+sure, but that officer but an old lieutenant of her husband’s regiment,
+a man who, having rendered his country good service during the war of
+the Rebellion, had thankfully accepted a second lieutenancy in the
+regular cavalry at its close. He and his sharp-sighted, razor-tongued
+wife had “joined” together in ’67, and long association among ladies
+of refinement and culture had only slightly dulled the edges of her
+uncouthness; but she was a prudent, saving, and thrifty woman in her
+household; had been a far more valuable helpmeet to patient, plodding
+Wilkins than he knew, and, except when indulging in a fit of ill
+temper and consequent explosiveness of language, she kept his home in
+reasonable comfort and his children in excellent dress and discipline.
+Policy she had, and cared to have, none. She had some warm impulses;
+was a faithful friend in time of trouble or illness; had been a devoted
+nurse to young Gregg when he was down with the mountain fever, and to
+Plympton when he was slowly recovering from the wounds the pestilent
+Apaches had inflicted in the last fight he and her husband had had with
+them; but the moment another woman attempted to override or ignore
+her there rose in her bosom a spirit of resentment that overswept all
+bounds. She had neither education nor polish, but a faculty of saying
+just what she thought, and more too, and, to use her husband’s rueful
+admission, “She wasn’t afraid of the devil.”
+
+Still swelling with suppressed wrath was the colonel’s wife when
+Lieutenant Ray, with his cavalry circular (“cape” as they called
+it) thrown over his arm, re-entered and hastily approached her.
+Well he knew that had more than once that night looked askance at
+his attentions to Grace; possibly, too, he realized the importance
+of seizing upon the opportunity while it served, for his manner was
+deferential and courteous in the extreme as he bowed before her
+ladyship. “Colonel Pelham has been called off with the general, madame.
+I cannot imagine what is going on, but may I not have the honor of
+escorting you home?”
+
+Now, here was a young man who properly appreciated her position, or
+his own inferiority, no matter which. So lately dared by one of her
+own sex, her ladyship’s ruffled feathers were smoothed by the tone of
+deference with which the diplomatic Ray made tender of his services.
+Her flushed features unbent in a smile of patronizing (matronizing?)
+consent, and, with a sweeping and comprehensive good-night bow to the
+throng, she accepted the subaltern’s arm and majestically left the hall.
+
+Gracie lingered, with Glenham flitting impatiently about her. There
+were so many good-nights to be said, so many repetitions of “Just the
+loveliest ball ever known,” so many projects for rides or drives and
+dances when they had had time to get over this one, though there was
+not a belle present who did not profess her entire ability to start
+right on and begin all over again, but at last the group broke away,
+and in a few moments Arthur Glenham was leading his sweet partner up
+the winding path towards the general’s house, and not a soul was within
+earshot.
+
+Brilliantly the stars were gleaming in the rare purity of the Sierran
+atmosphere. Cold and calm and glittering they shone down upon the dark
+pine-crested heights, and upon the dim valley in which sleeping town
+and outlying cantonment lay nestled. High aloft the studded girdle of
+Orion hung resplendent in the zenith, while farther west, from the
+lowering front of the great Bull, Aldebaran, radiant in his isolation,
+shone sparkling through the silent skies. Eastward, fringing the
+tumbling, ragged outline of the hills, a grayish pallor overspread
+the firmament, but left in deeper shade all objects at their
+base. Here and there along the spur of foot-hill glimmering lights
+betrayed the homes of the officers, and lower down, midway across
+the valley, a broad yellow glare shot athwart the high road from the
+doors of the post-trader’s, opened at that late hour presumably for
+the benefit of the drivers and hangers-on who had conveyed the guests
+from Prescott, but probably more to the benefit of the trader himself,
+for Arizona whiskey is of the vile vilest. The last wagon-load had
+rolled away towards town, the beat of hoof and rumble of wheel dying
+in the distance full ten minutes ago, and still those enticing doors
+stood open, evidence of further patronage, yet no sound came from the
+usually noisy bar- or card-room. All was so still that the cry of the
+sentinel’s “Half-past four-o’clock and a-a-all’s well” rang through the
+frosty air like notes of clarion.
+
+Along the opposite ridge the dim night-lights at the hospital had
+given place to some unwonted illumination. Glenham and his companion
+strolling slowly up the path must have marked it, had she known how
+unusual a feature these lights were at Whipple, had he marked anything
+but the beauty of the sweet face that enchained his eyes. For a
+moment they paused midway up the steep and looked back towards the
+now deserted ball-room “whose lights were fled.” It lay in a little
+valley midway between them and a line of low one-storied buildings on
+the rise beyond. Oh, Glenham, where were your eyes that you noted not
+the lights moving rapidly to and fro among them, the offices of the
+adjutant-general and aides and the telegraph station? Where were your
+eyes that you saw not, still farther beyond, the line of windows in
+the cavalry quarters, or down in the valley of the stream itself, the
+flitting lanterns in the stables and corral? Poor boy! he saw nothing,
+thought of nothing but the face and form beside him, the glorious eyes
+that had haunted his dreams for two long years. The pair had stopped
+one brief moment to look around at the scene they had so lately left,
+and she, noting how he had no eyes for aught but her, marking with
+woman’s quick intuition the silence that had taken possession of him,
+dreading the avowal she knew must be trembling on his lips, strove
+to move on again, and broke nervously into speech, but he resisted
+the gentle effort, and looking up she met his gaze. With an intensity
+of longing she had never dreamed of seeing Glenham’s blue eyes were
+fastened passionately upon her face, drinking in her beauty. With a
+quick, impulsive movement he seized the slender hand that had lain upon
+his arm, and eagerly, brokenly, almost sobbingly, the words burst from
+his lips,—
+
+“Grace! Gracie! I can wait no longer. You know I love you; you _must_
+know it. Haven’t you one word of hope for me after all this long time?”
+
+No time to hesitate now, no backward look or step, the plunge was
+taken; the words that, come what might, could never be forgotten, were
+spoken irrevocably. All along she had known they must be said, though
+in many a gentle way she had striven to give him to understand how
+hopeless it was, and now she must meet the words and, all too late,
+turn them back. Looking quickly into his quivering face, yet making no
+effort to disengage the hand he clasped so tightly as almost to crush,
+her answer came like a cry of pain, “Oh, Mr. Glenham! I have tried
+so hard to avert this. I had hoped, almost prayed, you had forgotten
+what—what you told me at West Point.”
+
+For a moment no further word was spoken. She could hear the heavy
+beating of his heart, the gasping sob that rose to his lips, as, in
+dumb misery, his head fell upon his breast.
+
+“If it had been a thing I could write of, I would have tried even
+harder to explain to you why it could never be,” she presently went
+on gently, almost caressingly, her tone was so full of sympathy and
+sorrow. “You remember, don’t you, that I told you two years ago, when
+you first spoke of—of this, that, though I did like you, it could only
+be like?”
+
+Mutely he bowed his head, then releasing her hands he clasped his own,
+and leaned drearily against the little tree that stood beside the path.
+Then once again his head drooped upon his breast, and, with sudden
+movement, he covered his face with his hands, and next great sobs shook
+his young frame. Distressed beyond measure, alarmed at his violent
+grief, Grace knew not what to do. The tears were streaming from her own
+eyes as she stretched forth her hands, and, clasping his wrist, strove
+to turn him towards her. “It breaks my heart to see you suffer so, and
+yet I have no words to comfort you. Oh, Arthur, I never deserved such.
+I never thought it possible. Why _did_ you not believe me when I told
+you then? Surely, I have not let you cherish this feeling for me.”
+
+Almost roughly he shook her hand away, and started up. “I’m not
+reproaching you,” he said. “You could not crush it out if you had
+tried ten times as hard; but Grace, Grace, I could not help hoping. You
+were so young then; your mother——No! I couldn’t have crushed it even if
+she had not——”
+
+“She! my mother!” broke in Grace. “How do you mean, Mr. Glenham? Mother
+could never have induced you to believe other than what I told you.”
+
+But Glenham had no time to reply; a quick, springy step was heard
+approaching. In the dim light a soldierly form came swinging into the
+path, and, catching sight of the white “burnouse” which enveloped
+Grace’s throat and head, Lieutenant Ray stopped and held out his hand.
+
+“Just in the nick of time, Miss Pelham. I’m off to join my troop fast
+as horse can take me. That you, Glenham? We’ll probably meet again
+then. All you Sandy fellows are ordered out. The Tontos have jumped the
+reservation. Good-by, Miss Pelham. If you miss the tassel of your fan
+to-morrow don’t think you lost it, I stole it an hour ago.” And with
+that he bounded down the path.
+
+Even as he disappeared a ringing trumpet-call pealed stirringly through
+the air the well-known signal, “Boots and Saddles!” and Glenham started
+from his attitude of utter despondency with an exclamation of almost
+fierce delight: “Thank God for that,—for anything of the sort!” And,
+dashing his hand across his eyes, the boy turned hastily up the path,
+leading his startled companion by the hand.
+
+“Tell me what it means, Mr. Glenham,” she said, as soon as she could
+recover breath.
+
+“More fighting and scouting, I suppose. I hadn’t hoped for anything
+half so good,” he added, biting savagely at his lip.
+
+Two horses, held by an orderly, stood in front of the general’s
+quarters, and the door opening suddenly gave exit to the aide-de-camp
+who had been one of Grace’s devotees during the night. Springing down
+the steps, he swung into the saddle before he heard Glenham’s hail.
+
+“You’ll find Turner and Raymond over at Wickham’s office,” was all he
+had time to say. “They’ve got the orders for Sandy,” he called back as
+he disappeared, followed by his orderly.
+
+“Then it’s good-by, Grace,” said Glenham, slowly, as they ascended the
+steps. His voice was harsh and constrained, stern and harsh it sounded
+to her, but he was struggling against his deep emotion now, and the
+soldier in him rebelled at the betrayal of weakness.
+
+On the porch he stopped, still not looking in her face: “I don’t know
+when we’ll meet again. I did not mean to risk and lose all so soon,
+but—but I was a fool, I suppose. You let Ray have that tassel, give me
+this glove. It isn’t much to ask now.”
+
+It was Grace’s turn to be wellnigh weeping. Despite her efforts the
+great tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she could not trust her
+voice to utter a word. The sight of his suffering, the utter dejection
+of his tone and mien, were too much for her nature, always sympathetic,
+always gentle.
+
+“Just one word, Grace,” he said, as he suddenly turned and seized her
+hands. “You say I must not hope. I’m going now without another plea.
+Tell me the truth, is there any man for whom you do care?”
+
+And her eyes, tear-dimmed, yet sweet and truthful, looked fearlessly
+up in his face. “No, Mr. Glenham, no.” He bent low over her hand,
+pressed it to his lips, and turned suddenly away. “No,” she cried, “no
+one whom I even like as I do you.” He would have turned once again to
+her, but the door opened suddenly, a broad light streamed out upon the
+porch, and Grace Pelham, her face flushed and wellnigh bathed in tears,
+confronted Jack Truscott.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Twenty miles up the valley above Camp Sandy lay the agency of the
+Indian reservation, and for some time previous to the date on which
+our story opens a young cavalry officer of large experience among the
+Apaches had been doing the double duty of commanding the Indian scouts
+and acting as agent for the six or seven thousand aborigines then being
+fed and clothed at the expense of the government. Of course, there had
+been, previous to his time, an actual (_bonâ fide_ was almost written)
+Indian agent, one of the factors of that mysterious and complicated
+piece of cabinet-ware known as the Bureau, but, though this was before
+the halcyon days of Schurz, even the Department of the Interior
+could not close its eyes to the convincing proofs of the peculations
+which he had been so injudicious as to strive to keep entirely to
+himself, and so, having proved a doubly unprofitable servant, the
+Bureau was not unwilling to cast him out, whereupon he showed signs
+of insanity, was placed under medical care, and escorted back to his
+home in Massachusetts under the guidance and at the expense of Uncle
+Sam, the method of his madness subsequently manifesting itself in the
+realization that had he been discharged on the spot he would have been
+compelled to pay his own way. Then there was an interregnum. Even
+Indian agents could hardly afford the trip to Eastern Arizona, the
+journey to San Francisco and thence by sea or desert to the Colorado,
+and thence by “buckboard” to the mountains, costing more for self and
+family than one could possibly hope to save in a year without getting
+found out. “If it were not for those d—d army officers,” said one of
+these shrewd financiers, “a man might live like a gentleman even in
+Arizona.” But the commanding general had for years of his life been
+dealing with Indians, and his maxim was to fight like blazes when
+fighting had to be done, teach them to dread the power of the Great
+Father, but to promise and insure fair treatment when they surrendered.
+The general had promised these Apaches fair treatment, and was bound
+to see his promise carried into effect. This led to his keeping an
+eye on the agents, and that led to the agents hating him worse than
+one of their own inspectors, which, after all, is a mild way of
+putting it. Nearly all the Arizona agents about this time were doctors
+of something or other, and bore the title if for proficiency in no
+other art, science, or profession than that of “doctoring” returns,
+and when this particular doctor was taken crazy and home (where he
+took to lecturing on the wrongs of the red man, and to himself the
+contributions of the charitable), the general was empowered to name a
+_pro tempore_ agent, and sent Lieutenant Stryker of the —th. Stryker
+was well known to all the Apaches as a fearless young chief who had
+thrashed them many a time, and the one thing an Indian respects is
+bravery when combined with force. As a consequence there was peace
+and propriety on the reservation. Stryker kept rigid account of the
+warriors under his control; there was little or no straying away from
+the limits, the few settlers began to take courage and let out their
+stock to graze, new “ranches” began to spring up in the deep valleys,
+and all promised well until the arrival of another “ringster” from the
+East relieved Stryker of his duties, and the Indians of restraint.
+Still there had been no outbreak; the road between Prescott and the
+valley of the Sandy, though lying dangerously near the Apaches, was
+considered so safe that the mail-carrier rode to and fro without
+escort, and small hunting-parties scoured through the mountains without
+meeting a “hostile”; but for some weeks past unpleasant rumors had been
+in circulation, and for three or four days the agent had been sending
+down to Sandy sullen-looking specimens of the tribe, with the request
+that they be confined in the guard-house, among the murderers and worst
+characters of their brethren lodged therein. The guard reported that
+they were holding frequent pow-wows in the prison room, and that when
+out at work under the sentinels, occasional attempts had been made by
+them to steal knives, scrap-iron, and any odds and ends of metal that
+could be sharpened and used. Stryker had been sent to the southern part
+of the Territory, and none of the officers at Sandy knew anything of
+the new agent. The surgeon at the reservation, however, had twice been
+down to the post, and on both occasions had displayed keen anxiety as
+to the condition of affairs. He even asked Colonel Pelham to come up
+and take a look at things, saying that at the rate he was going on
+the agent would precipitate a mutiny in less than a fortnight,—he was
+arresting and ordering into confinement some of the best and most
+influential Indians on no pretext whatever, and what was worse, said
+the doctor, “he is making them believe it is by your order or that of
+the general.” Pelham had decided to lay the whole matter before the
+department commander in a written communication,—but the result was as
+yet unknown, as the general could not interfere with the proceedings
+of an officer of the Interior Department, and could only “forward”
+the statement with a strong indorsement, in which case it generally
+resulted in being pigeon-holed among the musty files of the Bureau, and
+the informant was the only one who got into trouble.
+
+And so it happened that the solitary ride on which Jack Truscott had
+set forth proved an eventful one. Along towards two o’clock in the
+afternoon he had stopped to water his horse at a little spring well
+over towards the valley of the Agua Fria, loosening the girths and
+easing the saddle a while to rest his pet “Apache.” The horse was a
+noble specimen of his race, tall, sinewy, almost gaunt in build, but
+with powerful limbs, an eye full of fire and intelligence, and the
+tapering, sensitive ears of the purest breed. Truscott stood with his
+left arm thrown negligently over the withers, stroking the glossy
+mane, and softly patting the sturdy neck of his friend, all the while
+talking caressingly to him, while “Apache,” having indulged in a dozen
+long-drawn swallows, was now, with uplifted head and dripping muzzle,
+taking a leisurely survey of the scene preparatory to another dip.
+Satisfied apparently with the tranquillity of his surroundings, he was
+about to return to the sparkling water at his feet, when the leaves
+were stirred by a faint, rustling breeze, and suddenly he threw up his
+head and with dilated eye and nostril gazed fixedly into the thicket
+near him. Next he gave a start, snorted as though alarmed, and sprang
+back towards the road. Truscott’s quick hand was on the rein in an
+instant, while with his right he as quickly unslung the Henry rifle,
+that swung, Arizona fashion, athwart the pommel, still speaking gently,
+soothingly to his horse. “Steady, boy! steady, old man! you don’t
+scare as a rule; what do you see, sir?” and with his rifle at ready
+the adjutant backed slowly from the thicket, stepped to the near side
+of his horse, and then deftly reset and “cinched” his saddle. Still
+“Apache” quivered with strong excitement, and Truscott, keeping his
+eyes fixed on the quarter from which his alarm seemed to come, led
+back to the road; there he stopped to consider. “Apache” still stamped
+and snorted, a thing he had never been known to do under ordinary
+circumstances, and his conduct was a puzzle. He had seen, smelled, and
+chased bears without special emotion before, and no other beasts of
+prey were to be found around Sandy,—rattlesnakes were plenty, but not a
+whit did “Apache” mind them, but the one thing he hated was an Indian.
+Could it be that Indians were crouching in the tangled brushwood back
+of the spring?
+
+Truscott slung the reins over a stumpy little cedar, cocked his rifle,
+and, bending low, stepped over the brook and, parting the interlacing
+branches, forced his way through the bushes. Something wet and slimy on
+his hand caused him to raise it to the light, and he found it stained
+with blood. Close examination showed fresh gouts of blood on the leaves
+and twigs on either side, then came a little patch of sunlight, a
+mere break in the thick tangle of shrubbery, and there, stripped,
+gashed, mutilated,—two arrows still sticking out from the brawny back
+showing the shots were from the rear,—lay the corpse of Finnegan, the
+mail-carrier; horse and equipments, arms, ammunition, clothing, and
+boots, all but the ghastly life-ridden frame, gone. Further search
+revealed the soldier’s blouse and shirt, so hacked with knives and
+stained with gore as to be useless even to an Indian, while among a
+pile of rocks were scattered the letters and papers of the mail for
+Sandy. Five minutes more and Jack Truscott was speeding down into the
+valley to the west, sparing neither spur nor word, and “Apache,” nerved
+to excitement, was making the best time known to Arizona records.
+
+The winding, rocky road lay for a distance under hanging cliffs and
+boulders, and Truscott, bending low over the pommel with his Henry
+advanced on the right, peered warily ahead at every turn. A few miles
+farther, down in the open valley, lay a ranch where travellers and
+teamsters were accustomed to rest and refresh themselves and their
+cattle. The next turn would bring him in view of the valley and the
+ranch itself, and with keen anxiety he gazed as “Apache” bounded over
+the road. Another moment and the bend was reached, the valley lay
+before him, and plainer than ever before there stood the ranch, a
+glare of flame, while a thick cloud of smoke, black and heavy, floated
+slowly into the air. Never drawing rein he darted ahead; he knew that
+a party of cavalrymen from the post were out repairing on the line of
+the military telegraph, that they were on the western side of the range
+and could not fail to see the conflagration down in the valley; he
+knew that a few strides more would bring him to the point where the
+road and the telegraph line lay side by side, for the latter had been
+strung across country by the most direct route, and between the Agua
+Fria and the Sandy ran far south of the winding highway. The sergeant
+in charge of the party was an Irishman who bore an enviable name for
+bravery and efficiency in Apache warfare, and Truscott felt sure
+that he and his men would not be far away when there was need of his
+services. “Two to one the sergeant has seen that fire long before this,
+and he and his men are well on their way,” was his reflection as he
+galloped on.
+
+He was among the foot-hills of the western slope now; the road dipped
+and twisted among the spurs, sometimes in plain view two miles ahead,
+sometimes not a dozen yards. At a sharp bend “Apache” suddenly swerved
+violently to the left, and Truscott reined op alongside the smouldering
+remains of a wagon, near which, gashed and hacked with savage fury,
+lay the body of a Mexican teamster. The cattle had disappeared,
+driven off to the northward as the trail indicated, but examining
+the ground, Truscott saw to his joy the fresh imprint of a score of
+horse-shoes, crossing the road from the south, evidently in pursuit.
+Once more “Apache” felt the spur and darted west along the road,—once
+more his rider came into view of the ranch, and saw with satisfaction
+that while the sheds and “corral” were a mass of flames, the home of
+the station-keeper was still safe. The one thing now was to find the
+sergeant and his men and hie to the rescue. Truscott lost no time
+by following the trail; he knew well that before this the flames
+had been seen, and the troopers were taking the shortest line across
+country towards the point of danger, if, indeed, they were not already
+there. Five minutes more and now a gently-sloping stretch of road,
+only a mile or so, lay between him and the ranch, and then—hurrah!
+off to the right he saw a little squad of blue jackets bounding over
+the slopes with carbines advanced, and Jack’s voice rang out through
+the still air, “This way, this way, sergeant; make for the road!” and
+never drawing rein, he spurred ahead. Now he could hear the crackling
+of the flames, and every now and then the report of a rifle. Another
+moment, and scurrying off towards the reservation he caught sight of a
+party of some twenty Indians, running for dear life, throwing away the
+plunder they had picked up, clinging to the tails and manes of the few
+horses their luckier comrades had secured; away they were going, caught
+in the very height of their devilment, no time to palaver or parley,
+their hands still stained with rapine and murder,—the cowardly curs
+had suddenly caught sight of the little band of rescuers, and their
+first impulse was flight. Truscott turned in his saddle, waving his
+broad-brimmed hat to the men spurring along behind him, “Head ’em off,
+men; spread out to the right!” and in another instant “Apache’s” hoofs
+thundered through the burning corral, past the scorching ranch, whose
+beleaguered occupants found time to cheer with delight as they dropped
+their rifles to rush for buckets and water, out through the open court
+beyond, splash through the rivulet, scramble up the bank on the other
+side, and Truscott was in full view of the chase. But horses were
+wellnigh exhausted now, and eager though the riders might be, it was
+pitiful to hear the gasp and groan with which the steeds made answer
+to the spur. The mounted Indians were plainly seen striking at their
+comrades, who, clinging to their mounts, impeded their flight, and some
+of the troopers, trusting to luck, had opened a long-range fire at the
+pursued. But “Apache” kept on, fire, mettle, endurance, and speed, all
+were combined in his glorious race, and almost before he realized it
+Truscott found himself closing in upon the stragglers.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+              “With vengeful eye, drove shot after shot.”
+
+                                                        Page 67.
+]
+
+Throwing away the arms they dared not stop to use, two Indians flung
+themselves flat upon their faces on the sward; but another, wheeling
+quickly, knelt, aimed. Truscott bent low upon his horse’s neck, and
+the harmless flash of the savage’s rifle was answered by a surer shot
+that sent a bullet crashing through the tawny, naked breast. Then there
+came another report, sharp and ringing, close at hand, and with it poor
+“Apache” wavered, staggered, plunged headlong to his knees and rolled
+in agony upon the turf. Truscott alighted, cat-like, on his feet,
+but quickly knelt to avoid the hurried missiles sent back at him by
+the scattering foe. He ground his teeth in bitter rage as he saw his
+favorite lying there in his death-struggle, and with vengeful eye drove
+shot after shot at his slayers, and not till the sergeant and his men
+could reach him did he know or realize that the blood was streaming
+down his left arm, and that an arrow had torn a deep rent under the
+shoulder-strap.
+
+There was no further pursuit: horses were exhausted, and few white
+men afoot can catch an Apache; but four of the tribe had paid the
+forfeit of their crimes and lay weltering along the trail. Slowly the
+victors returned to the ranch, where the owner, a sturdy Norwegian,
+and his good wife, with eager volubility, poured forth their thanks
+for the timely rescue, and brought water and bandages for Truscott’s
+shoulder. One or two bucolical-looking Swedes were still dashing
+water against the adobe walls, as though the now smouldering ruins
+of the corral-sheds could communicate flame to dried mud, while in
+one of the rooms two teamsters, badly wounded but worse scared, were
+stretched upon the floor groaning lustily in their distress. Close by
+the corral lay two more Tonto “bucks,” who had presumed too much upon
+the easy victory over single and unprepared victims, and had ventured
+with reckless confidence in their overwhelming force to attempt a
+rush upon the stout-hearted ranchmen. Olson hurriedly told the story
+of the raid as known to him: how, long before noon, a small party had
+strolled in to beg for something to eat, and were noticed peering about
+at the interior of the ranch; how his wife had snatched away a rifle
+one of them had taken and was eagerly examining; how, later in the
+day, a trapper rode by from the east, saying he had seen numbers of
+’Patchie tracks among the hills and didn’t like the looks of things;
+and finally, how, after two o’clock, the two teamsters had come tearing
+in on one horse saying that the Indians had attacked them in the cañon
+among the foot-hills, and they had to flee for their lives, then came
+the Indians themselves. He “thought there must have been a hundred of
+them,” some dressed in soldier clothes, some on horseback, and he and
+his people had run for the house, which they placed in as defensible a
+state as they knew how, and fought them back like heroes, according to
+the good man’s story, though, from the fact that few of the Apaches had
+fire-arms, and only two of them breech-loaders (which they had secured
+at the expense of poor Finnegan and the Mexican that morning) and that
+the household was still quivering with excitement, Truscott concluded
+that their relief at his appearance was the most genuine portion of the
+entire exhibit. The Apaches had not made a very determined assault, and
+the besieged would hardly have held out against one.
+
+It was not probable that another attack would be made that afternoon.
+The sun was well down towards the west by this time, and Truscott
+decided, as soon as he could rest his weary horses, to push in to
+Prescott with the news. A wagon was filled with straw, in which the
+wounded teamsters were carefully laid. Two of the cavalry horses,
+refreshed by a two hours’ halt and a hearty feed, were harnessed in,
+and, leaving the sergeant with two men at the ranch as guard, the
+adjutant and a little party of three “effectives” set forth at sundown
+with the wagon-load of wounded.
+
+The road was rough, the night, though still and starlit, was dark
+in the deep pine forests through which they rode after leaving the
+Agua Fria. Off to the northeast the signal-fires of the Indians told
+the story of the outbreak, and the highway was deserted. It was near
+three o’clock in the morning before Truscott reached the post, turned
+over his wounded to the care of the hospital steward, and went to
+headquarters to make his report. The ball was still in progress, and
+the strains of gay music fell upon his ear as he climbed the slope
+towards the offices. Lights were burning in the telegraph-room,
+however, and here he found the operator clicking away at his instrument
+“My God! lieutenant,” said he, springing up; “we’ve been mighty anxious
+about you. The Apaches have raided the valley,—just got the news from
+Sandy half an hour ago, and particulars are coming in every minute.
+Hold on one second until I tell Sandy you are here.”
+
+Stiff, chilled, and tired, smarting with pain from his torn shoulder,
+Truscott sank into a chair; his thoughts drifted back over the
+events of the day, but lingered with keen, and even bitter sorrow on
+“Apache’s” death. For three long years he had been Truscott’s one
+pet, his pride and delight. He had borne his rider gallantly that
+day over hill and dale, rock and rill, a wild rush to the rescue; he
+had distanced all competitors; was the only horse “in at the death,”
+thought poor Jack, and as he recalled that mute appeal in the glazing
+eyes of his favorite, and recalled too that not once before death put
+an end to his misery had there been a chance for a single caress or
+word, not one sign to his faithful charger of the love in which he held
+him, Jack’s pale, set face grew paler, there was an odd quiver about
+the stern lines of his mouth, and a gathering film in the tired eyes
+he so hastily covered with his hand. Quick steps came bounding up the
+pathway, across the narrow piazza, and Colonel Wickham entered with the
+aide-de-camp. “Well, what’s the latest? Have they heard from Truscott?”
+was his immediate question.
+
+The operator motioned towards the sitting figure with one hand, while
+the right kept busily clicking its message, and Truscott, rising, stood
+before the questioner, who eagerly grasped his hands. “Safe, Jack,
+thank God!—but you’re hurt! Where did you run across them? D—n it, what
+a time to ask questions! We’ve had an awful scare about you. Sit down
+again, man. Here, Bright, run down to the club-room and bring me some
+whiskey.” The aide was off without a word, and by the time he returned
+with the required stimulant Wickham, who never used it himself, but
+knew when it was needed for others, had told Truscott that at midnight
+a despatch had come from Sandy saying that raiding-parties of Indians
+were in the valley, and that all the settlers had taken refuge at the
+post. “The general said to keep the thing quiet until we received
+further particulars, and sent orders to have the cavalry at Camp Sandy
+out at daybreak on the trail. From midnight up to half-past two reports
+came of the Apaches being in force along the valley, but not until
+half an hour before had anything indicated that they were west of the
+range. Then a ranchman from the Agua Fria had ridden post-haste into
+the quartermaster’s corral saying that Olson’s ranch had been burned
+and his family slaughtered; that lots of teamsters had been killed;
+and then we thought of you. I hurried off a message to Canker, who
+replied that you had left the post about ten o’clock, and he ‘feared
+you had gone alone.’ Then the general ordered ‘G’ company out at once,
+and the men are stirring up now. All the time though we were trying to
+keep the thing quiet so as not to spoil the Pelhams’ ball, but just
+five minutes ago old Catnip and that lovely daughter of his—By Jove!
+Truscott, there’s a girl to make your head swim—came at the general
+with point-blank questions about you, and I don’t see how we could
+have kept it much longer.”
+
+Then Truscott briefly reported the facts as known to him. Bright, the
+aide, went off to notify the general, and came back saying that the
+general begged Truscott to come at once to his quarters, and there Jack
+found an anxious group, consisting of the department commander, Colonel
+Pelham, and three or four captains of the —th, and after warm greetings
+and congratulations the adjutant again recited tersely the story of
+his ride. The general listened intently, never interposing word or
+query until it was finished, then it came. “How did you happen to have
+no orderly?” and though for a brief instant Truscott hesitated and
+looked embarrassed, he replied gravely that “an orderly had not been
+considered necessary, everything had been so quiet for months past,”
+and his comrades at least felt pretty certain that in virtually taking
+upon himself the responsibility Jack Truscott was shielding a man who
+would have lost no opportunity of hurting his defender, could he have
+done so. The general’s orders were prompt. The cavalry officers from
+Sandy were directed to make immediate preparations to return, escorted
+thither by the troops then saddling, and with hurried farewells they
+went off to attend to the matter. At the general’s request the colonel
+and Truscott remained. “The ladies must all wait here at Prescott,”
+he said. “Let Canker and ‘the boys’ have this tussle to themselves,
+Pelham, they will scatter and whip them back in short order. You and
+Truscott must wait here a day or two. Now, first thing, Truscott, I
+want your shoulder looked after. You are to stay with us. The doctor
+will be here in a moment, and I’ll show you your room.” Truscott
+begged to be excused; he knew that the house was full of the fair sex,
+or would be as soon as they returned from the ball. Even then their
+silvery voices and laughter could be heard on the walk outside, and
+the adjutant was far from indifferent to his personal appearance. Just
+now, covered with dust and his uniform stained with blood, his face
+haggard with pain and fatigue, he would have much preferred going off
+to his bachelor comrades; but even as he was attempting to enter his
+protest the door opened, and Mesdames the General and Pelham, escorted
+by Lieutenants Hunter and Ray, came sailing in. “Pretty men you are to
+desert your wives in this way,” vociferated the portly partner of the
+general, all in a good-humored glow after her pull up the hill. “Pretty
+men to——Why, Jack Truscott! When did you get here? Why, you’re so
+pale—and all blood—are you wounded? What’s happened?” And so, hurriedly
+and disconnectedly, this good lady—“the warmest-hearted woman in the
+army,” the Arizona exiles used to call her—poured forth question,
+sympathy, and welcome all at once upon her prime favorite, the adjutant
+of the —th.
+
+“Now don’t bother Truscott,” the general vainly interposed. “The
+doctor’s coming, and I want his shoulder dressed, or he’ll be having
+fever in it;” but his better half could not be suppressed, and over
+again, quietly and smilingly, Jack strove to tell something of the
+day’s adventures, but failed signally, because by this time both dames
+were popping questions at him quicker than he could singly answer
+either. Ray and Hunter stopped only long enough to grasp his hand, and
+learn from their colonel that their companies were under orders, when
+they hurriedly left. The tramp of hoofs and jingle of Mexican spurs was
+heard in front, staff-officers came quickly and quietly in, received
+their instructions as quietly from the low-voiced general, and were
+off in a moment about their business. Pelham seated himself to write
+a few words of caution to Canker, who was a reckless and impetuous
+campaigner, whatever might be his disagreeable qualities, and Truscott,
+breaking away from his female inquisitors, had just stepped to the door
+to intrust this despatch to Bright, when he came face to face with
+Grace. It was almost a collision. Truscott stopped short, bowed low,
+and with a courteous “Pardon me,” held the door open for her to pass.
+Grace bent her flushed and tearful face, sweeping one quick, furtive
+glance from under the long lashes at the tall soldier, stepped into the
+hall, and hearing many voices in the parlor, darted up the stairs to
+her room, there to bathe her eyes and collect her startled thoughts.
+
+Finding Bright already gone, Truscott carried the despatch to
+headquarters, gave it to Captain Turner, and then, feeling weak and
+weary, returned slowly to the general’s. The tear-stained face of the
+graceful girl who had swept past him at the doorway had by no means
+escaped his attention. He knew well that it was Grace Pelham, felt
+thoroughly satisfied that the footsteps bounding away into darkness
+as he came out upon the piazza were those of Glenham, had quickly
+decided that it was more than probable the latter would not care to see
+him just then, and so had not called after him, and saved himself a
+fatiguing trip. Returning to the parlor, he was seized by his colonel.
+“_Now_, Truscott, I want to introduce you to my daughter. Never mind
+your dress, man; I _want_ her to see what my fellows have to go
+through. She’ll like you all the better, or I’ll disown her.” And, pale
+and half faint, Jack was led up to the group of ladies, and in another
+moment was looking down into the most glorious eyes he had ever seen,
+into a fair frank face that met his gaze with an expression of earnest
+interest and concern, while a slender white hand cordially greeted
+his nervous palm, and a gentle voice exclaimed, “It doesn’t seem
+possible that you and I have never met before, Mr. Truscott; father’s
+letters have made me feel as though I knew you.” What man would not
+have thought her welcome both gracious and graceful? What mamma, with
+ambitious projects of her own, would not have shown alarm? Lady Pelham
+barely gave Jack time to offer any response before she burst in with,
+“Now, Grace, Grace, Mr. Truscott is utterly exhausted; too much so to
+talk, and (with cheerful irrelevance) I know that your father and he
+have a dozen things to attend to.”
+
+“Not a bit of it,” said the colonel. “He sha’n’t do another stroke of
+work to-night. I want him to get to bed, but, first of all, to meet
+Grace. Ah, Truscott, she could ride ‘Apache,’ I’ll warrant you.”
+
+Grace, looking up into the calm features of her new acquaintance,
+marked a sudden change, a deeper pallor, a knitting of the tired brow,
+and a nervous twitching at the corners of the mouth. “Miss Pelham’s
+riding is something the last year’s graduates never tire of talking
+about,” he answered; but she thought only of the pang that seemed to
+shoot across his face, and eagerly spoke,—
+
+“You must be suffering from your hurt, Mr. Truscott. Surely you
+ought to see the surgeon,” and this at once brought the general’s
+energetic lady to the rescue, even Mrs. Pelham promptly joining in the
+sympathizing chorus. Jack was remanded to his room, whither the general
+himself insisted on accompanying him; the doctor, already summoned, was
+soon on hand, and the ladies Pelham were left alone. Without a moment’s
+hesitation madame took her daughter’s hands in hers, looked searchingly
+into her face, and said,—
+
+“Grace, you have been in tears. Has Arthur Glenham spoken to you?”
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+“My darling child, I knew it!” And the maternal arms were thrown
+about the slender form, and an anxious kiss was pressed upon the pale
+forehead. Then,—“And you answered him?”
+
+Grace paused a moment. She well knew her mother’s ambition, and her
+love for all the good that money can bring. She knew how hard she had
+struggled, planned, pinched, and saved that she, her one daughter, the
+very apple of her eye, should never lack for even the luxuries of life.
+She loved her tenderly, yet those half-spoken words of Glenham’s had
+given rise to a painful suspicion. She raised her eyes to her mother’s
+face, and replied,—
+
+“I do not love him. I could not accept him, mother. I have tried not
+to encourage this avowal. Have you ever spoken with him? You surely
+have not let him keep this delusion. I told you at West Point it was
+useless.”
+
+“Grace, my daughter, think a moment what you are doing. He is a
+gentleman. He loves you devotedly. He can place you above any
+possibility of want or care in this world. You may never have such
+another opportunity. Why, my child, were your father to die to-morrow
+you would be penniless. Your brothers could do nothing for you. Is it
+possible you can be blind to our position?”
+
+Slowly Grace Pelham drew herself from her mother’s arms and stood
+thoughtfully before her. “Do you expect me to marry a man whom I merely
+like?” she asked.
+
+“But why can’t you love him?” broke in her ladyship, impatiently. “It
+will come soon enough, Grace; you are too sensible for mere romance.
+Why, to-night, when I saw you enter in tears, my heart was thankful. I
+thought of course they were due to anxiety and distress at his sudden
+summons to join his company. _Why_ were you crying, I should like to
+know?”
+
+“At his emotion. He seemed so—so—— _Mother!_ answer me: had you given
+him cause to hope that I loved him?”
+
+Mrs. Pelham hesitated. She knew her daughter’s spirit, her keen sense
+of honor; she strove to find an answer that might evade the issue, yet
+satisfy the scruples of her child, but Grace’s clear eyes were fixed
+upon her face. She reddened, then almost pettishly broke forth,—
+
+“Of course I did not absolutely encourage him, but I did say you were
+too young to know your own mind, and I’m sure I hoped you would come
+to your senses by this time. Grace, it is undutiful in you to question
+me like this. I’m sure I acted for the best, and he deserves better
+treatment at your hands.”
+
+Grace Pelham pressed her hands upon her temples. Less than a year ago,
+and again, less than six months, when their coming to Arizona was first
+discussed, her mother had told her that she had never spoken of the
+matter to Mr. Glenham; and now—for one moment she looked wonderingly,
+wistfully, into the flushed and angry face of the elder lady, then,
+with one half-stifled cry, “Oh, mother!” she fled to her own room.
+
+Half an hour afterwards—a half-hour spent in bitter tears—she heard
+her father enter the adjoining room, and address his better half in
+his usual cheery tone: “It wasn’t the wound that made Jack Truscott
+so miserable. His pet horse was killed under him in the fight, and he
+never said a word about it. Why, Dolly, you look used up. What’s the
+matter?”
+
+And Dolly replied in melodramatic grandeur, “Hush!”
+
+Fatigue, excitement, distress, all had spent their force on Grace
+Pelham. Gentle sleep soon came to soothe her troubled spirit, but,
+mingling with her last thoughts those words floated through her drowsy
+brain, “His pet horse was killed under him, and he never said a word
+about it.”
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Meantime there had been the mischief to pay at Sandy. Captain Canker,
+as we have seen, was irate at the defeat of his little scheme for the
+“discipline” of his subordinates. It was some consolation to discover
+that Glenham had escaped the toils only at the expense of Truscott,
+who, thought Canker, would be far more missed at the ball than the
+officer whose going he had originally interdicted. Then when the
+telegraphic summons reached him which virtually made it his duty to
+send Truscott up to Fort Whipple, he was chagrined and disgusted beyond
+expression. There was an implied censure in the words “unless services
+are urgently needed” which indicated to him that the general thought
+his detention of either Glenham or Truscott a piece of arbitrariness
+(“not so much that as contrariness,” explained Colonel Pelham
+afterwards) and unwarranted by the circumstances as known to him the
+night before the start. But Canker, like many a better man, was judged
+subsequently by the light of events that he could not then have known,
+and, unlike many a better man, received support and sympathy in place
+of censure. Now that two of the colonel’s favorites had escaped him,
+Canker bethought him of a third victim, the regimental quartermaster.
+This officer, a gentleman who had grown old in service, was already
+gray and rheumatic, who habitually walked with a cane when he walked
+at all, had originally been appointed to his staff position because,
+said the then commanding officer, “He isn’t good for anything else.” He
+had, nevertheless, proved a very efficient and valuable quartermaster,
+and had for some years performed the varied and intricate functions
+of that office without having added much to his own comfort, but a
+great deal towards the comfort of others. There is never a time on
+the frontier when the dames of the garrison, from the lady of the
+commanding officer down to the widow of the late Private Moriarty (who
+still hangs on to her husband’s old company for sustenance), are not
+besieging the post quartermaster with some plea or other,—a partition
+to be put up here, a chimney repaired, glass put in, a new coat of
+paint in the parlor, a storm-door like the colonel’s, a new stove like
+the one you gave Mrs. Major, or a wash-biler an’ findher like Mrs.
+Mulligan’s. They are always pestering him for something. The great
+depot of Jeffersonville does not contain the volume of stores that
+could be asked for by the women of a four-company post in one winter;
+there is never enough of any one item to go round, and always more
+applicants than there are coal-scuttles; somebody has to be refused,
+and frequently fifteen or twenty somebodies, and then nothing under
+heaven can save that quartermaster’s reputation. The patience of Job
+(without his boils), the meekness of Moses, and the resources of
+Rothschild might help that functionary in his desperately hopeless task
+of satisfying a whole garrison, but they couldn’t do it long. The more
+you give some women the more they demand, and the annual appropriation
+for the purchase of army stores and supplies could readily be
+distributed among the laundresses of any one regiment (in the days when
+we had those blessings) without satisfying their cravings for more. It
+isn’t always that they really need the article demanded, they simply
+want something that some other woman hasn’t, so that she may want and
+cannot get it, and the rule is general, being by no means confined to
+the sturdy wives of the rank and file, but applicable to the ladies
+whose garments they weekly washed and mutilated at New York prices. God
+help the nervous, sensitive, or irritable man who has to take these
+duties on his shoulders; not one in a hundred could long maintain a
+mental balance, let alone the financial ditto.
+
+But Bucketts was no such martyr. He had been a colonel of volunteers,
+was shot through the leg in the Wilderness, and hobbled into the
+veteran reserves, thence into the infantry of the line as a second
+lieutenant, and had succeeded only in getting a modest bar on his
+shoulders when the consolidation of ’71 took place and wellnigh
+stranded him. Thrown upon the unassigned list, he would have had
+small chance of retention but for the fact that the “Benzine Board”
+speedily made more vacancies in the cavalry than in the rest of the
+arms of service combined, and very properly, said the slow going
+infantry and artillerymen, we should profit by the fastness of you
+horsemen which has rendered promotion a possibility. And so several
+score of semi-invalided and semi-mustered-out footmen, dozens of
+whom had never straddled a horse in their lives (and to this day are
+objects of wonderment to their men when they “get into saddle”), became
+full-fledged cavalry officers. Bucketts accepted the situation like a
+man, came out and joined the —th in Nebraska when the Union Pacific was
+being built, his baggage consisting of one trunk and three baskets of
+champagne. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I understand that a cavalry officer
+who is thrown has to set up the wine for the crowd. The law of the land
+has made me a cavalryman, but all the Congressmen from the Capitol to
+John Chamberlin’s couldn’t make me a horseman. There’s my credentials:
+pitch in, and let up on me hereafter!” Bucketts was a popular man from
+that day. Whereas Canker, who entered the —th at the same time and
+under precisely similar circumstances, barring the wound, seemed to
+imagine that his new commission as captain of cavalry carried with it
+all that the name implied, and that he became an authority on horses
+and horsemanship without further qualification. Profound discretion
+in the selection of his “mounts” had enabled him thus far to escape
+the ignominy of a “throw,” but he never rode or could ride a horse
+twenty-five miles without laying that horse up chafed and sore for
+days afterward, yet he was incessantly punishing his men for faulty
+horsemanship.
+
+Bucketts had not done a particle of guard duty for three or four years.
+His office duties were constant, and when not at his desk he would
+bestride a fat, easygoing little saddle-mule and amble about the post
+with a green-lined sun-umbrella hoisted over his head and blue-glass
+shades for his eyes, and thus keep track of the improvements and
+the working-parties; he gave his whole attention to his legitimate
+work, and was rarely called upon for any other; but this time Canker
+concluded, in his own language, to “give Bucketts a whirl.”
+
+“My compliments to the quartermaster,” said he to the orderly some
+hours after Truscott left the poet, “and say I want to see him.”
+
+There had been a time when Bucketts and he were on intimate terms,
+had wellnigh concluded an alliance defensive and offensive on their
+entrance into the —th, because they thought that their new comrades
+would be apt to slight or snob them in some way; but Bucketts had
+speedily won his way into the affections and respect of the officers
+of the regiment, a thing which Canker never succeeded in doing, and
+he hated Bucketts and called him a “bootlick” behind his back because
+of his better fortune. They had drifted apart, and were only on terms
+of ordinary garrison courtesy, but Canker never lost an opportunity
+of endeavoring to worry Bucketts in some way, and generally got the
+worst of it, since Bucketts, without trying at all, could stir up
+a company commander a dozen times a day. However, Canker had the
+whip-hand now and meant to use it. It was just the time of day when
+the quartermaster, having completed the rounds of the post, was wont
+to send his mule to the corral, get out of his collar and cuffs into
+an easy old alpaca duster, and with a palm-leaf fan in one hand, and,
+not unfrequently, a comforting beverage of his own composition in the
+other, to spread himself upon a wicker settee in the cool retreat of
+his own parlor and doze away an hour in a noonday siesta. “I’ll spoil
+his nap anyhow, d—n him!” gritted Canker between his teeth, “and I’ll
+partly pay off old Catnip into the bargain.”
+
+Poor old Bucketts rose with a sigh as the orderly delivered his
+message, and having arrayed himself in his cool white blouse, he took
+his cane and umbrella and stumped slowly and painfully along officers’
+row in the blazing heat until he came to Canker’s quarters, knocked and
+entered. “Mr. Bucketts,” said the temporary commander (Bucketts was a
+brevet major, and generally so addressed; but Canker had not a brevet,
+even in the volunteer service, and ignored everybody else’s when he
+could), “you will have to do officer-of-the-day duty. The colonel has
+seen fit to deprive me of the services of the adjutant this morning,
+and now I have nobody. You will have to act as adjutant, therefore,
+attend stables with Company A, run your own work, and go on as officer
+of the day.”
+
+Bucketts merely bowed acquiescence, and looked serenely undisturbed.
+Knowing his man, the communication was by no means unexpected.
+Indeed, before leaving, Truscott had asked him to attend to these
+very matters, and had sent a note to Canker informing him that the
+quartermaster would do so. Canker had an undoubted right to send for
+the latter and satisfy himself of the understanding, but if it had put
+the staff-officer to no inconvenience there would have been no solace
+to his wounded self-importance. Bucketts’ unruffled urbanity only
+served to irritate him the more. “Anything further, sir?” asked the
+quartermaster after a pause, in which Canker had been pettishly tossing
+about some papers on his desk. “Yes, sir. Mr. Bucketts, when you come
+into the presence of your commanding officer you should wear your
+uniform: it is not respectful to appear as you are dressed.”
+
+“This is exactly what I wear every day in Colonel Pelham’s presence,
+captain; he knows that I have to be out much of the day in the hot
+sun, and it has grown to be a custom here,” replied Bucketts, coloring
+slightly, but speaking calmly notwithstanding his sense of annoyance.
+
+“That don’t excuse it, sir,” said Canker; “Colonel Pelham has ideas of
+discipline which differ materially from mine. When I am in command it
+will not be permitted. That will do, sir.” And Bucketts, mad enough
+to hammer his superior’s features into pulp, which he could readily
+enough have done, stomped sadly off to his lonely quarters. So kindly
+and courteous himself, so ready to oblige, so considerate in all his
+relations with others, he nevertheless was keenly alive to any slight
+or injustice; and that a man who was in every way his mental inferior
+should take this method of despitefully entreating him was a hard thing
+to bear. But then that is one of the blissful features of army life.
+
+Bucketts’ misery was not one to lack for company. Too indignant to seek
+consolation in his customary nap, he was about to return to his office,
+when the doorway was darkened by the entrance of the officer of the
+day, one of the subalterns who had not been included in the Prescott
+party. He looked hot and ill tempered.
+
+“Bucketts, lend me your mule; my horse is out at herd with the rest of
+them, and that d—d man, Canker, has sent me orders to go out at once
+and visit the herd guard. What’s got into him, anyhow?”
+
+“Take the mule if you like, but don’t ask conundrums. He sent for me
+just now and rode over me rough-shod for not being in uniform. I’m mad
+enough to take a drink. Have one?”
+
+The junior assented, and, pending the arrival of the quartermaster’s
+mule, the two officers discussed their toddy and the vagaries of their
+temporary post commander. Ten minutes spent in this occupation had
+partially blunted the edges of their grievances, and they were prepared
+to look with more equanimity upon matters in general, when the orderly
+trumpeter suddenly darted into the room.
+
+“Commanding officer’s compliments, sirs. Wants to see you both,” and
+was off like a shot.
+
+“Now what new devilment is he devising?” said Bucketts, ruefully,
+pulling off his “working-dress” and preparing to get into the hot
+uniform he had to wear. Before he could complete the change, however,
+there was a quick, sharp step along the piazza, and Canker himself
+appeared.
+
+“Never mind your blouse now, Bucketts; it’s business this time. Here,
+Mr. Carroll, get your herds in quick as a flash; take a dozen men with
+you, armed; I’ll look out for your guard and prisoners; the Tontos have
+jumped the reservation!”
+
+What change in tone and manner! Ten minutes ago, peevish, querulous,
+almost complaining, and entirely unjust, Captain Canker had disgusted
+his subordinates. Now, quick, animated, a soldierly ring in every word,
+his whole bearing commanded their respect. Many a time before had his
+comrades noted this odd trait in his character. The presence of danger,
+the chance of a fight, the excitement of active service wrought an
+instant change in the very nature of the man—and in the thoughts of
+his officers. A moment before they were ready to hammer him, now eager
+to support and obey.
+
+Carroll picked up his sabre, and started across the parade on the run.
+Canker and Bucketts followed as rapidly as the latter could stump his
+way while listening to his senior’s recital of the news. Two ranchmen
+living up the valley had just come in to say that the Indians had
+swooped down and driven off their horses and cattle soon after noon.
+Then, before they had half told their story, a teamster came tearing
+in to the post from the Prescott road, his horse wounded, saying that
+the foot-hills were swarming with Apaches, and begging for ammunition.
+At the guard-house Canker ordered the sergeant to call in at once all
+the working-parties of the Indian prisoners, and himself inspected the
+locks and fastenings of the room in which some particularly hard cases
+were confined. Meantime, Carroll, with a dozen or more of the men, had
+hastened off to the westward, among the hills and ravines, to search
+for and bring in the herds, while throughout the barracks the men were
+quickly and without confusion buckling on their “thimble-belts” and
+revolvers, and gathering, carbine in hand, along the company parades.
+The civilians who had come in with the news were surrounded by an
+eager group, and were enlarging upon their experiences of the morning,
+when suddenly a shot was heard down under the bluff towards the post
+garden, where many of the Indian prisoners were kept at work during the
+day. It was quickly followed by another, then half a dozen sputtering
+shots, and some men over by the hospital, which commanded a view of
+the low ground, were seen excitedly running towards the quarters,
+and could be heard shouting that the prisoners were breaking away.
+Canker seized a carbine. “Take command of ‘A’ company, Bucketts, and
+stay here. Come on, you other men;” and away he went at a rush, with
+half the command at his heels. Sure enough, the prisoners were loose.
+Running like deer, half a dozen of the lithe, swarthy fellows could
+be seen a thousand yards away, “streaking it” over the sandy bottom
+towards the foot-hills, others dashing towards the river, while here
+and there through the sage-brush and cactus, puffs of blue smoke shot
+out from carbine-muzzles indicated the slower pursuit of the astonished
+guard. Canker swore with rage. There would have been no earthly chance
+of recovering his charges, when suddenly, in a great cloud of dust and
+with the thunder of half a thousand hoofs, the herds of two of the
+companies came sweeping at full speed around a low hill towards the
+west, and, skilfully guided by the troopers in charge, bore down direct
+upon the corrals. “Mount! quick as you can, all of you!” he shouted,
+and signalling to the corporal in the lead of the herds, he threw
+himself upon his horse, quick as the other could vacate the saddle
+in his favor, and, carbine in hand, and calling again to his men to
+follow, he tore off towards the chase.
+
+Bold horsemen there were in the old days at Sandy. There were men
+that day who threw themselves without either saddle or bridle upon
+their horses’ backs, and trusted to voice, leg, and instinct to guide
+them. Others, less confident, bridled their chargers, but none stopped
+to saddle. In five minutes a hundred horsemen were scattered over
+the valley in pursuit of the escaping Indiana. Man after man they
+were run down, seized, and dragged back, most of them taking it as
+good-naturedly as though the escapade had been a mere school-boy lark
+devised for the entertainment of the garrison. Three or four were
+savage and sullen; only two made any resistance. Poor devils! they had
+nothing to fight with, and only one had been shot by the guard. Canker
+at first had furiously ordered his men to fire everywhere, but Mr.
+Carroll and some of the sergeants had quietly cautioned those nearest
+them to hold their shots or aim high. It was an easy matter to overhaul
+and recapture so helpless a foe, and shooting them down in cold blood
+was something the —th did not believe in. Canker himself thought
+better of his order as soon as he saw that his men were masters of
+the situation, and revoked it, so that the firing ceased entirely. In
+an hour all but five men were returned to the charge of the guard now
+strongly reinforced, and sending his prisoners back to the garrison,
+the commanding officer resumed the search for those still missing.
+
+Up the stream-bed, through the willows, east, west, and north over
+the arid valley, the troopers scoured in knots of two or three,
+Canker riding to and fro, encouraging or swearing as occurred to
+him most expedient; and so another hour passed away. The men were
+widely scattered by this time, and it must have been towards five in
+the evening when there came from a gorge in the foot-hills, fully
+eight miles above the post, a sudden rattle of fire-arms. Instead
+of slackening after the first few seconds it increased, and Canker,
+pausing but an instant to listen, turned an attentive ear to the
+veteran first sergeant, who rode on his left at the moment.
+
+“That’s no overhauling prisoners, captain; that’s a fight,” said he.
+
+“Come on, then!” shouted Canker, and putting spurs to their horses, and
+signalling to all the men in sight, they dashed off in the direction of
+the firing.
+
+It was a fight, sure enough. Far over among the foothills to the west,
+Lieutenant Carroll, with three or four men, had found traces of some
+of the fugitives. Following slowly as they could find further signs,
+they had at last come in sight of the chase, and way in a winding gorge
+or cañon had pushed in pursuit, when, without the faintest warning, a
+volley of rifles and arrows brought them to a sudden halt, and one of
+the men dropped from his saddle. To rein about and shout to his men
+to dismount and get under cover among the rocks was the work of an
+instant, and turning loose their horses, which would only have hampered
+them there, they scrambled half-way up the hill-side among a lot of
+loose boulders, and rapidly opened fire on the ambuscading Apaches. In
+three minutes they were joined by others of the command, and in five,
+Carroll felt justified in ordering an immediate rush upon the position
+of the enemy, some of the mounted troopers endeavoring to get around on
+their flank and rear. No especial order was observed. Every man took
+a hitch in his belt and a firmer grip on his carbine, and somebody
+said, “Now then, fellers!” the generic title by which the regular
+cavalryman invariably addresses or speaks of his comrades, and with
+that the fifteen or twenty blue-jackets had “bulged ahead,” as Carroll
+reported, and Canker, galloping in on his staggering charger, found his
+command skipping up the rocks like young rams, and the Apaches rapidly
+disappearing among the thickets of pine, scrub-oak, and juniper with
+which the mountain-side was covered. Horses were there of no avail,
+and the agility of the sinewy Indians far more of a power than our
+men could contend with. Pursuit was useless, and before dusk Canker
+had his mounted men hunting for the loose horses, while his courier
+galloped in to the post to summon the surgeon and the ambulance. Four
+of our men were struck and two seriously wounded, and, to his rage
+and mortification, Canker could not show a dead warrior to offset his
+losses.
+
+It was in a very unpleasant frame of mind that he rode back to the
+garrison that evening. Five of his prisoners had escaped, four of his
+men were crippled, several horses gone. A general outbreak of the
+Apaches had evidently taken place. He had practically been confronted
+by them most of the afternoon. Their movements and the attempted
+escapade of the prisoners were doubtless concerted. So far they had
+very much the best of it, and what _could_ he report to department
+headquarters?
+
+At the north gate the quartermaster, with a grave and anxious face, was
+waiting for him.
+
+“Captain Canker, Truscott has not reached Prescott, and Finnegan isn’t
+in.”
+
+Canker turned white as a sheet, and with a stifled groan covered his
+face with his hand. “Come to the telegraph-office,” was all he said,
+but that was an anxious night at Sandy.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+When Lady Pelham descended upon the household the day after the ball,
+the sight which met her eyes in the general’s parlor was not one to
+add either to her placidity or her ordinarily reliable appetite. Mr.
+Truscott, with his uniform blouse thrown loosely over the injured
+shoulder, was ensconced in an easy-chair near the west window, and
+at the instant of her ladyship’s entrance was looking earnestly up
+into the fair face of her daughter, who, for her part, was looking
+as earnestly down into the bronzed features of the adjutant, while
+her slender white hand was clasped about a goodly-sized envelope and
+letter. Considering the fact that the pair had been acquainted less
+than twelve hours, it must be conceded that her ladyship had cause to
+look surprised. Not another person was in the room when she opened the
+door and entered, breaking in upon this interesting _tête-à-tête_.
+
+She paused abruptly upon the threshold, and for an instant simply
+stared at them. Truscott courteously rose, though with evident effort,
+and bade her a calm good-afternoon. Grace turning and seeing the
+expression on her mother’s face flushed crimson, and yet moved quickly
+to her, and dutifully raised her lips to the maternal cheek with a
+gentle, “I hope you rested well, mother.”
+
+“_Very_ well, thanks,” was madame’s stately reply. “You have all had
+lunch, I presume. Is nobody at home, pray?”
+
+She was still smarting under the sting of last night’s interview.
+She had been detected, she felt sure, in a piece of out and out
+equivocation, to call it by its most innocuous title, and detected
+by her only daughter. True to human nature, she was incensed at
+her daughter for having discovered her falsehood, and longed for a
+pretext to excuse or warrant an exhibition of parental displeasure,
+and here it was. Unwelcome as the sight would have been at any other
+time, there was something absolutely greedy in her reception of the
+circumstance now. Her daughter’s kiss was unreturned, a frigid and
+unbending acceptance was all she vouchsafed her. Civility demanded
+that she should inquire as to the state of Mr. Truscott’s wound, but
+her ladyship was not disposed to be civil, and in her wrath at what
+she chose to consider her daughter’s undutiful conduct she decided to
+include under the ban of her censure the adjutant himself, who was
+in no way responsible. A very distant salutation, therefore, was her
+response to his courteous greeting. Seeing which, he as calmly resumed
+his seat, and became absorbed in the contemplation of some objects on
+the road in the valley below.
+
+As for Grace, who never in her life had concealed a thought or had
+a secret from her mother, this assumption of displeasure on her
+ladyship’s part startled at first, then wounded her with its utter
+injustice. Ten words would have explained the situation, but now she
+felt that anything like explanation was a self-humiliation totally
+uncalled for; besides, there was really nothing in the situation that
+demanded anything of the kind. That is to say, not to the portly and
+peevish matron, who, without further word to either, swept through the
+parlor into the adjoining dining-room, whence her voice was presently
+heard requesting that solace to femininity—a cup of tea.
+
+But the reader will want an explanation beyond doubt, and very humbly
+at your feet is it laid.
+
+Truscott had slept but little. The excitement of the previous day, the
+irritation of his wound, poor “Apache’s” death, and his anxiety about
+the next move of his comrades, all tended to restlessness. At nine to
+the morning the surgeon had come in and dressed his shoulder, finding
+Jack out of bed and already half attired. After a few questions he
+spoke gravely and decidedly.
+
+“I’m not going to condemn you to staying in bed all day, Truscott,
+you will be better sitting in the parlor; but, no matter what turns
+up, you are not to quit this house; you are on sick report and under
+my charge. Of course I know you are fidgeting to get down to Sandy
+after the command, but Colonel Pelham is not going, and you shall not
+go.” Truscott frowned but made no reply. The doctor went on with his
+sponging and his calm talk: “I saw the general fifteen minutes ago;
+he is waiting for news from Sandy and asked after you. Canker and his
+people started up the valley at daybreak, and the cavalry from McDowell
+and here are to work right over to the Mogollon range. The chief says
+that in four days most of the renegades will have slipped back to the
+reservation, and only a few scattered bands will be out; but, by Jove!
+it was a miracle that you got through.”
+
+Then the doctor and Truscott had breakfasted together. The general and
+Colonel Pelham had dropped in to see him and charged him to keep quiet,
+and then gone over to headquarters. No one else appeared; the ladies
+were all asleep aloft. Some of the Sandy party had called at the door
+eager, probably, to hear any news the ladies of the general’s household
+might have, or to retail that which they had heard, but, informed
+by the servant that no one was down, had reluctantly retraced their
+steps. All headquarters and Fort Whipple seemed to be sleeping off the
+effects of an all-night dance and jollification so far as Truscott
+could judge, but he could not see the busy life over at the offices and
+in the corrals, and so moped and read and fidgeted about the parlor
+until noon, without a soul to speak to and relieve his anxiety. As a
+consequence he fretted infinitely more and had less actual repose than
+if he had been in the saddle and on his way back to join his comrades
+on the war-path; but that is always the way. A man may be worrying his
+heart out with eagerness and anxiety to be in his proper place among
+his troopers, and some old woman of a doctor says, “Now stay in-doors
+and keep perfectly quiet if you want to pull out of this.” How in the
+mischief, thought Jack, can a fellow be expected to keep perfectly
+quiet, or approximately quiet, at such a time? And then he almost swore
+to think that since nine not a man at the office had thought enough
+of him to send him word of the latest news from Sandy. There was not
+an orderly or a male servant about the premises, and Jack, pacing
+feverishly up and down the floor, was just determining on mutiny and
+a sortie when the rustle of dainty skirts was heard upon the stairs:
+light footsteps came dancing down. Jack stopped short, and the door
+opened. For the second time Grace Pelham confronted Mr. Truscott.
+
+“Which is it, good-morning or good-afternoon?” she blithely inquired,
+coming forward with frankly extended hand. “How is your shoulder? tell
+me that first,” she hastily added, looking up into his face; for the
+hand which had taken hers for one brief second was hot and dry, and the
+bronzed face was flushed.
+
+“Afternoon, I should say, if not evening or day after to-morrow. The
+morning has seemed interminable,” he answered.
+
+“Yes; and you have been growing feverish with every minute, I fear. Has
+the doctor been here?”
+
+“He has; but the doctor I most need is your respected father, my
+colonel. In fact, Miss Pelham, for the first time in my acquaintance
+with that officer I have been tempted to upbraid him savagely. He
+promised to send me news from Sandy three hours ago, and here it is
+after one o’clock and not a word.”
+
+“Then there is no news,” replied Grace, very calmly and with a half
+superior smile.
+
+“I accept the implied rebuke in all humility,” said Truscott,
+smiling, despite his worries, at the queenly decision of her words.
+“I am unworthy to hold my position another day, and shall resign the
+adjutancy in _your_ favor.”
+
+“All the same you are anxious for news, and so am I. Possibly there is
+a way of relieving us both. Will you promise to sit down in that big
+chair and look at pictures or read the papers for fifteen minutes?
+Will you promise?” she repeated.
+
+“Solemnly,” said Jack, and subsided into the seat nearest the window.
+The next instant he bent eagerly forward and half rose. “Confound
+it, she’s going herself!” For, throwing a light circular over her
+shoulders, the girl had quickly left the house, and was even now
+briskly stepping down the broad walk towards headquarters. Truscott
+watched the graceful, slender form until it disappeared from sight, and
+then watched the spot where it disappeared for full five minutes. He
+was not given to soliloquy. I never knew a man that was,—novels by the
+thousand to the contrary notwithstanding,—but what he would have said,
+had he said anything, was, “Glenham, you are a lucky man.”
+
+Near headquarters Grace encountered two or three officers of infantry,
+one of whom eagerly went in search of Colonel Pelham, who promptly
+appeared and led his daughter into the general’s office. “She says
+Truscott is fretting himself into a high fever,” he explained to the
+chief, who had risen to greet her cordially, “and that she, too, wants
+to know how matters are going down at Sandy.”
+
+“You can tell him that he must have scared the tribe out of their wits
+in yesterday’s fight,” said the general. “They seem to be scattering in
+every direction.”
+
+“Give him this, daughter,” said the colonel. “A courier just brought it
+half an hour ago. It is Canker’s letter to me with full particulars,
+and tell him he is to keep quiet or I’ll put a sentinel over him. You
+go and be the sentinel,” he added fondly, and with her infantry friends
+as escorts Grace returned to the house. Truscott, watching at the
+window, saw the quartette as they hove in sight, and instinctively
+pushed back his chair. “Confound those fellows!” he thought. “Of course
+she will ask them in, and I’m in no mood for talk with any of them.”
+With that he slipped off to his own room. Two minutes after he heard
+voices on the piazza, the hall-door opened, and Grace Pelham’s breezy
+tones fell upon his ear. “I know I ought to ask you in, but I won’t.
+Mr. Truscott will defy the doctors and insist on having a talk with you
+all, whereas he is ordered to be perfectly quiet. Forgive me, won’t
+you?” Then pleasant good-afternoons, a swish of skirts and pit-pat
+of feet along the hall, the noise of opening the parlor-door. Then a
+“Why!”—then silence.
+
+For the first time that day Truscott’s step was springy as he hastened
+back to the parlor. “Bless her heart,” he thought, “she is as wise as
+she is pretty. Glenham, you are a mighty lucky man.” And somehow his
+step faltered and his face clouded a trifle as he reappeared before her.
+
+“Mr. Truscott, you have broken your arrest.”
+
+“I confess it,” he said. “The sight of your escort was too appalling.
+Forgive me for ever having doubted your tact, but I’ll never do it
+again. I did not see how you could discharge them at the door.”
+
+“Utterly specious and unsatisfactory. Go back at once to your limits.”
+Jack returned to the chair. “Sit down.” Jack obeyed. “Now listen to
+your instructions.” And with that she stood threateningly over him, and
+with mock gravity delivered the general’s message. Then that of the
+colonel with reference to the sentinel being posted over him, until
+she came to recollect the injunction, “You go and be the sentinel,”
+whereat the conclusion of her message lost suddenly its truculent
+character and she faltered. _Was_ it a blush that suddenly mounted
+to her temples? Watching her intently he was sure he saw it, but she
+recovered her self-poise instantly. “And now, sir, here are despatches
+from the commanding officer at Camp Sandy which you are to read, mark,
+and pigeon-hole, I suppose.” And still holding them in her right hand,
+she approached the arm of his chair with impressively uplifted finger.
+“But now that I am going to leave you in peace, remember that you are a
+prisoner. If you want anything——” And here her ladyship entered.
+
+Jack had received his admonition with becoming gravity, as indeed it
+had been delivered. _Very_ becoming he thought as, after the brief
+scene with madame, Grace hesitated for an instant at the parlor-door.
+She had announced her intention of leaving him alone,—she did mean
+to go. She had not been in the room with him more than sixty seconds
+when her ladyship appeared and saw fit to assume an air of tragic
+displeasure at so finding her. Now, knowing that she had been
+misjudged, the spirit of the woman was aroused. Truscott sat there
+with the despatch folded in his listless hand, looking not at it, but
+at her. Five minutes before this he was all impatience to get the
+particulars of the fight near Sandy. Here was the letter, and he did
+not open it; his eyes and his thoughts followed Grace, who had paused
+and was steadfastly gazing after her mother into the dining-room.
+Her hands were clasped before her, the fingers tightly interlacing,
+and her bosom rose and fell rapidly once or twice. Something hot and
+dry seemed to catch in her throat. She turned abruptly towards him
+once more and met his earnest gaze, then without another word quickly
+withdrew her eyes, the long lashes sweeping down over her cheeks, bent
+her head, and hurried from the room. Truscott heard her ascending the
+stairs; he listened to her light footfall overhead, heard her close
+the door of her room, and all was still except madame’s clinking knife
+and fork in the adjoining room. The letter still lay in his hand, but
+he did not open it. Once more he turned his eyes to the window and
+gazed thoughtfully out over the shallow valley towards the pine-crested
+heights on the western side; full five minutes he sat thus, then
+madame’s chair made a discordant noise upon the floor, her voluminous
+skirts rustled in premonition of her coming; he started, opened
+Canker’s letter, shook himself into attention, and began to read in
+earnest as she re-entered the room.
+
+Even that potent mollifier, tea, seemed to have failed in its office
+on this occasion. What woman is so hard to placate as she who knows
+herself to be in the wrong? Mrs. Pelham was in a most unenviable mood
+as she returned to the parlor. Her sleep had been unrefreshing, her
+morning toilet unaided by Grace’s deft fingers. She had repelled her
+daughter’s affectionate advances on her first appearance, and been
+discourteous, if not downright rude, to Mr. Truscott. Now she chose to
+consider herself aggrieved because her hostess, the general’s wife,
+was still sleeping the sleep of the just and the clear of conscience
+in her own room, while she, Lady Pelham, was left without a soul with
+whom to sympathize or squabble. It would have been balm to her troubled
+spirit just now to have had one or two of her cronies at hand, and
+with them to have dissected the toilets and characters of the ladies
+attending the ball. Even comparative strangers would not have been
+unwelcome, for that feminine freemasonry which puts most of the sex on
+terms of interesting ease with one another when discussing the absent
+would soon have created a distraction for her gloomy reflections. But
+she was practically alone. Truscott merely looked up and bowed gravely,
+then returned to his reading. She did not fancy going up-stairs and
+possibly meeting Grace. She did not care to disturb her hostess. She
+had nothing to occupy her in the parlor. She would have been glad to
+talk with Truscott and satisfy herself as to this reputed intractable;
+her curiosity was piqued by all she had heard of him; but it was
+evident that he had noted her discourteous greeting, and that now any
+advances towards conversation must come from her: he was not the man
+to be cajoled one minute and dropped the next; but she was still too
+rancorous to stoop to conciliation, so she stood a moment tossing
+the cards and notes on the centre-table, and carelessly examining
+the inscriptions thereon, then she marched out on the piazza and
+majestically paced up and down, sniffing the bracing air and keeping
+keen watch for any ladies who might appear along “Headquarters Row.”
+Late as many, if not most of them, had slept, she knew full well that
+the interest and excitement attendant upon the sudden departure of
+the cavalry officers for the field would soon bring them together to
+discuss the probabilities, and presently there appeared, leading her
+little daughter by the hand, poor Mrs. Tanner, “like Niobe, all tears.”
+
+Among some of her companions this gentle lady was held pretty much as
+Mrs. Major O’Dowd, of blessed memory, regarded that poor, weak-spurted
+Amelia, and like Amelia there wasn’t a man in the —th who would not
+have leaped to her defence. She had married early, had lost the darling
+of her heart—a winning blue-eyed baby girl—in the stirring days when
+the regiment was clearing the way for the transcontinental railways,
+and her dearly-loved husband was constantly with his troop scouting
+over the prairies, while she, lonely and heart-sick, watched over
+the cradle of their little one in the humble log hut which had been
+assigned them as quarters. Her agony when that baby was taken from her,
+her dumb, patient suffering when the regiment was ordered to Arizona
+and she had to bid farewell to the little grave under the cottonwoods
+(poor Tanner had lifted her in his arms, finding her white hands firmly
+clutching the bunch-grass on the tiny mound), the wistful, far-away
+gaze in her soft eyes all through that tedious and dreary journey, none
+of the officers had ever forgotten; nor had they forgotten her constant
+efforts to appear bright and cheerful, especially to her husband, whose
+heart was sorely wrung with their loss, yet, stubborn and manlike,
+strove to hide its wound under the guise of unwonted brusqueness of
+manner, sometimes even to her.
+
+And then the night of that dreadful storm on the Pacific, when they
+were off the coast of Lower California, and not a soul on board the
+laboring steamer believed that day would ever dawn upon them, how calm
+and brave and serene she was! while, if regimental traditions were
+reliable, Mesdames Turner and others whom we won’t mention had behaved
+like lunatics, and made consummate nuisances of themselves. Somehow
+that storm-night on the old “Montana” was never a popular reminiscence
+with the ladies of the —th. It _could_ not be, since no man of their
+acquaintance could ever be induced to omit some such remark as, “By
+Jove, what a little heroine Mrs. Tanner was!” when alluding to it.
+They had always spoken of her rather pityingly up to that time. “So
+daft about her husband and that baby, you know; she can’t think of
+anything else.” But that night she had serenely taken care of other
+women’s olive branches while their husbands were on deck helping the
+ship’s officers, and they themselves were indulging in hysterics or
+lamentations. Not all, be it understood. There were three brave women
+there that night, but two of them are so fortunate as to have no
+place in our story, and to have had the good luck not to be stationed
+with regimental headquarters at Sandy when all those most unpleasant
+episodes—but this is anticipating. The ladies of the —th respected
+Mrs. Tanner,—they could not help respecting her,—but all the same
+they levelled their little slings of malice and all uncharitableness
+whenever they were in conclave among themselves, and whenever they
+dared at other times, for they could not forgive it in her that the
+officers to a man should refer to her as the bravest and pluckiest
+and sweetest-natured little woman in the regiment. They could not be
+expected to forgive it in her that she absolutely held herself aloof
+from all garrison gossip or small talk, that she was always courteous
+and kindly, always bright and cordial to those who sought her society;
+but she had no intimates, as women define them, except her husband,
+and feminine confidences were with her unknown. A devoted wife, a
+rapturously loving mother to the little ones who had come to partially
+replace the idolized first-born, she made her home her sanctuary, and
+his, and there peace and happiness, if ever they are permitted to abide
+with us, reigned perennially.
+
+Mrs. Tanner was not the utterly weak-spirited woman her sisters would
+have made her out to be. Though she preferred to shine in the pure
+light of her own fireside rather than in the glare of garrison society,
+and in her retiring way was far more apt to hide her light under a
+bushel than to permit its radiance to be seen abroad, those who knew
+her well soon discovered that she was far better informed, far _deeper_
+than the average army woman, that she had cultivated and refined
+tastes, that she was not plain by any means, for, when interested,
+her face would light up vividly, and her eyes were lovely whether in
+animation or repose. Her features, despite their habitual pallor,
+were delicate and regular, her hair soft and brown and wavy, and her
+voice—ever that matchless gift in the woman who wins and would hold
+the queendom of her home—low and sweet. The ladies of the —th had long
+since abandoned their sly allusions at her expense when speaking to
+their husbands or the men who knew her. Green subalterns, just joining,
+were disposed at first to keep at a distance from her, and were wont to
+dance attendance for their year of “plebe-hood” at the skirts of other
+ladies her seniors in years but juniors in manners. She never sought
+to attract anybody.
+
+Now, one would suppose that such a woman was above suspicion, and that
+so pure, so chaste, so retiring in thought and act, she at least would
+escape calumny. But once, just once, a strange thing had happened, and
+over and over again had the ladies of the —th rolled it with their
+tongues, pulled it out of shape, twisted and tortured and, some of
+them, swearing that they did not believe, believing had gone so far as
+to transplant the story to alien soil and let it grow like a weed in
+the luxuriant gardens of other regiments. During the first year after
+they came into Arizona the heroine of the “Montana” had noted an odd,
+half-hesitating manner on the part of the ladies of the infantry and
+the staff on receiving her; some had failed to call. Finally Tanner
+had noticed it, and not until he questioned her did she admit that she
+was struck by the circumstance. Tanner tried to fathom it, but found
+that his brother officers fought shy of the question. Truscott was his
+stand-by ordinarily, but Truscott and he were not at the same post for
+some time after entering the Territory; indeed, the entire regiment
+was in the field scouting and fighting through the Apache-infested
+mountains, and in all the anxiety and distress experienced by the
+ladies in garrison while the regiment was in daily conflict with the
+savages, and in the excitement and incidents of the campaign, the
+affair faded from the mind of the people generally, and nothing more
+was said or done on the subject for quite a little while.
+
+But the story was a serious one, and in a very few minutes Mrs. Pelham
+was to be made acquainted with it in all its details. How mach better,
+therefore, not to tell it here, but to wait and let those innate
+romancers, the ladies of her coterie, tell it themselves! As yet there
+was but slight acquaintance between Mrs. Pelham and Mrs. Tanner, the
+former, however, had been greatly impressed, shrewd society woman that
+she was, by the perfect manners and gentle ways of the little lady;
+had admired her at the ball the night before, and was disposed to
+“cultivate” her, as the expression goes. At this moment, however, Mrs.
+Tanner would have been glad to avoid an interview. The captain had left
+her at sunrise hurrying back with his comrades to join their commands
+at Sandy, and she, late in the day, had started out to give her little
+girl a needed airing when she met a soldier of her husband’s troop, who
+had come back with despatches and brought her a few pencilled lines
+from him. Their loving tenderness and the allusion he made to a little
+locket which he always carried in his breast,—a locket containing a
+golden curl from the bright head sleeping under the sod in far-away
+Kansas,—these combined had overcome her self-control, and as she
+retraced her steps and strove to reply to the light-hearted prattle of
+her little one, the tears were streaming from her eyes, and it was thus
+she encountered the glances of the colonel’s wife.
+
+“What is it, Mrs. Tanner?” said that lady, by no means
+unsympathetically, as she hastened down the steps to greet her. “No
+ill tidings, I hope; you look so distressed. Do come with me and rest
+awhile; there is no one here.” And, taking her hand, she led the young
+mother to the piazza.
+
+Hurriedly thanking her and striving hard to control her emotion,
+Mrs. Tanner assured Lady Pelham that there was no real cause for her
+apparent distress, apologised in fact for her weakness, and presently
+succeeded in leading the conversation to the ball of the night before
+and to Grace herself. On these topics the ladies were getting along
+admirably when little Rosalie, playing about the balcony, suddenly
+exclaimed, “Oh, mamma, mamma, here’s Uncle Jack!” and turning, Mrs.
+Tanner caught sight of Mr. Truscott seated close to the parlor-window
+and smiling greeting to the child. She rose instantly, walked to the
+window, and finding it impossible to hear his reply to her inquiries,
+and in response to his beckoned “Come in!” she returned to Mrs. Pelham,
+saying, “I had not hoped to find Mr. Truscott able to sit up; may I go
+in and see him?”
+
+“Why—certainly—I suppose so,” replied madame, not very cordially,
+however, for she did not relish the evident pleasure with which the
+younger lady accepted the prospect of quitting her society for his;
+but Mrs. Tanner never noticed the change in tone, and, taking Rosalie
+with her, entered the house. She had hardly closed the hall-door
+when three ladies appeared, issuing from the adjoining quarters of
+the adjutant-general, and came briskly down the path, all smiles and
+salutations, to greet her ladyship. In another minute Mrs. Raymond,
+Mrs. Turner, and the wife of one of the staff-officers were seated in
+cosey conversation with Mrs. Pelham, chatting as gleefully as though
+separation from their lords were an every-day affair, and not at all
+to be deplored beyond the conventional, “So horrid, you know; and now
+I suppose the infantry ball will be abandoned entirely.” Then came
+inquiries for Grace, and lavish praises of Grace’s beauty and bearing.
+Both ladies of the —th were evidently bent on making as favorable an
+impression as possible on the colonel’s wife, and their Fort Whipple
+friend as a consequence was allowed small share in the chatter. In the
+midst of the talk the hall-door opened, and as they rose expectant of
+receiving Miss Pelham there reappeared Mrs. Tanner and Rosalie.
+
+“Why, good-afternoon, Mrs. Tanner; I’d no idea you were here,” was
+the greeting of the three. Mrs. Tanner pleasantly responded to their
+salutations, inquired if they had heard any news from the detachment,
+briefly told them of the note she had received from her husband, and
+then turning to Mrs. Pelham bade her good-morning, left some message
+for Grace, and excusing herself to all for hurrying home she and
+Rosalie went smilingly away.
+
+“What a charming little woman!” said her ladyship after a pause, during
+which all four pairs of eyes had followed the two out of earshot.
+
+“Sweet,” said Mrs. Turner, reflectively.
+
+“So gentle and ladylike,” said Mrs. Raymond.
+
+“I’ve always admired her so much,” said their companion. Then came a
+pause.
+
+“It is a perfect mystery to me how any one can help liking her,” said
+Mrs. Raymond, softly and slowly. Another pause.
+
+“Well, I _always_ did,” said Mrs. Turner, dreamily gazing across the
+valley.
+
+“And I supposed everybody did,” said Mrs. Pelham, looking very
+intently at her two “subordinates,” who thereupon became more
+intently interested in some distant objects, waiting with well-assured
+shrewdness to be drawn out by farther questioning.
+
+“Has she been in to see Grace?” asked the staff lady.
+
+“No,” replied her ladyship, promptly. “She went in to see Mr. Truscott.”
+
+Instantly Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turner exchanged glances of much
+significance, which Mrs. Pelham was as quick to observe, and which, as
+soon as satisfied that she had observed, the two ladies discontinued
+and again became absorbed and preoccupied in manner.
+
+The other lady said “Oh!”
+
+Now, there are dozens of ways of saying “oh,” each eminently expressive
+of some different idea or emotion. This one was eminently expressive
+of, “Well, of course it’s her own business, but if _I_ were in _her_
+place,” etc., and then there was a general lull of at least three
+seconds in the conversation. Just enough had been said, indicated, and
+acted to pique her ladyship’s curiosity to the utmost. She readily
+divined that any one of the three ladies could impart interesting
+information, and as all sat silent, as no attempt had been made by
+any one of them to change the subject of conversation, it was evident
+enough that all she had to do was to start them and the story, whatever
+it was, would speedily be at her service. There _are_ women in the
+army, thank God! who at such a crisis would have calmly and decidedly
+led the talk into another channel and virtually have declined to be
+made the recipients of a garrison scandal, but their number is not
+legion, and Lady Pelham is not of their number.
+
+The silence was broken by her.
+
+“Why, I hope there is no reason why I should not like Mrs. Tanner. Is
+there, Mrs. Raymond?”
+
+“No indeed. Far from it—only——” said that politic lady, beginning
+vehemently and concluding with vague and hesitating manner, indicative
+of anything but triumphant confidence.
+
+“If anything is not as it should be, surely _I_ ought to know it,”
+persisted madame, slowly and impressively; “and surely, Mrs. Raymond,
+my friends ought not to keep me in ignorance.”
+
+This being precisely what both Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turner thought,
+and exactly what both expected Mrs. Pelham to say at this juncture, a
+little further coquetting with the subject became appropriate.
+
+“Indeed, Mrs. Pelham, there isn’t anything,—that is, _I_ never believed
+it; and it’s something I never can _bear_ to think of, and have _never_
+alluded to,” said Mrs. Raymond, and actually at the moment she believed
+her own assertion.
+
+“Mrs. Turner, it is evidently a matter you all know. Is there any
+reason (majestically) why _I_ should not be informed?”
+
+“Oh, dear, no! Mrs. Pelham,” replied Mrs. Turner, “only it’s a thing I
+never would have mentioned for the world. Even now I can’t believe it;
+and when I heard it at the time, _you_ know, Nellie (appealingly to
+Mrs. Raymond), I said it couldn’t be true. She was too thorough a lady,
+and then he had never——”
+
+“Yes, I know, dear,” broke in Mrs. Raymond, “and so did I, and how
+it ever got out I _never_ could imagine. I know Captain Raymond was
+furious when he heard that Mrs. McGinty, of the infantry, speak of it,
+and he said it would be a bad day for the gossips if it ever reached
+Truscott’s ears.”
+
+“Truscott! Mr. Truscott!” exclaimed Lady Pelham, now all agog with
+curiosity. “Pray what had he to do with it?”
+
+And then, little by little, in fragments, and with mutual assistance,
+promptings, and suggestions, but never without such comments as, “You
+know I can’t believe it, although——” and, “He has never shown her any
+more attention than he has anybody else, except——” etc., etc., the
+direful story came out.
+
+Divested of its feminine embroidery, it amounted, substantially, to
+this: Truscott had been first lieutenant of Tanner’s troop in the
+old Kansas days, and when in garrison, which was seldom, had shown a
+decided fondness for spending his evenings at the Tanners’ quarters; he
+“messed with them,” as the army expression goes, in the days when only
+two companies of the —th were stationed at Fort Harker, and he did not
+find the society of the infantry officers altogether as desirable as it
+subsequently became.
+
+He used to write frequently to them after he was made adjutant and
+joined headquarters, especially after the baby died, and all this
+seemed natural enough. When the regiment was ordered to Arizona,
+Captain Tanner’s troop went with the first detachment, leaving
+Kansas early in December. Truscott did not arrive in Arizona until
+some months after they did. Tanner with his company was out on a
+scout, and she, with her new mite of a baby, was at Camp Phœnix when
+Truscott unexpectedly appeared at the post and went, within an hour
+of his arrival, to call upon her, and Mrs. Treadwell, rushing in
+unceremoniously as next-door neighbors will, was stupefied to find
+Mrs. Tanner sobbing in Jack Truscott’s arms. She could have sworn she
+was looking up in his face and kissing him as she entered the hall
+and saw them through the half-opened door. Now, in justice to Mrs.
+Treadwell, who was the wife of one of the prominent field-officers of
+the regiment and a most worthy woman, let it be recorded that for an
+entire fortnight she kept the thing to herself.
+
+Truscott was at the post four days, and during that time had otherwise
+shown no more attention to Mrs. Tanner than to the other ladies, and
+_possibly_ not a soul would ever have heard of this affair but for the
+fact that a nurse-maid employed by Mrs. Tanner was suddenly discharged
+about this time for good and sufficient reason, and was furnished
+transportation to the nearest town. Servants were scarce and high
+in Arizona, and the Abigail had no difficulty in finding immediate
+employment, and in informing her new mistress, the wife of a large
+contractor, that the reason of her leaving Mrs. Tanner was that she
+couldn’t stay in a house where there was such goings on as she had seen
+between her and the adjutant. Thus started, the story attained in less
+than no time colossal proportions and soon reached Camp Phœnix. Mrs.
+Treadwell was told confidentially by another lady of the servant’s
+story, and was asked point-blank whether she had ever noticed anything,
+which, being a next-door neighbor, she might have done, and, the lady
+being her most intimate friend, Mrs. Treadwell imparted her secret.
+
+Thus it was that the story gained the solid foundation that first was
+lacking, but once surely grounded there is no telling to what heights
+an army story may not soar. It fairly flew about from post to post,
+and women who had never seen anything out of the way in the friendship
+of the Tanners and Truscott before now recalled a dozen suspicious
+circumstances they never could account for. This explained her
+agitation at Yuma on receiving a letter in his handwriting. This was
+why she never could listen to any of the stories in circulation about
+other people’s frivolities. This was why he was so set against gossip
+and small talk, and finally a dozen ladies of the —th had settled in
+their own minds that that artful little Mrs. Tanner was actually the
+cause of his broken engagement. How they wished they knew the girl’s
+name!
+
+Nor was it a story confined to the fair sex. Such worthies as Mrs.
+Wilkins and others had speedily imparted it to their husbands and to
+the men who were jealous of Truscott; and Canker, Crane, Wilkins, and
+others of that ilk had stealthily discussed it among themselves, but
+had been cautious enough to say nothing about it to Truscott’s friends
+or to Tanner’s. One night, however, Mrs. Turner, in the exasperation of
+some trivial matrimonial squabble, stung by a most injudicious though
+very just comparison drawn by her liege lord between her conduct and
+Mrs. Tanner’s, had burst forth with, “Mrs. Tanner, indeed; if you knew
+what I know about that woman you would not dare insult me by comparing
+me with her!” whereat honest Captain Turner was thunderstruck, and then
+very flatly told his wife that he had heard too many garrison stories
+laid at her door, and warned her that there was one woman she had
+better not asperse, and that was Mrs. Tanner.
+
+Oh, foolish and short-sighted mortal! What greater provocation could he
+give the wife of his bosom? In a minute she had accused Mrs. Tanner,
+and that “paragon of yours, Mr. Truscott,” of half the sins in the
+Decalogue, and was ready to prove it. “Ask Mrs. Raymond, ask Mrs.
+Wilkins, ask Mrs. Anybody,” flashed the indignant lady in response to
+the pishes and pshaws and trashes with which he greeted her vehement
+recital, till finally both had lost utter control of their tempers,
+and Captain Turner had clinched the nail of his domestic enormities by
+slamming out of the room with the parting remark, “Well, my dear, if
+you have known all this of Mr. Truscott for the last six months, your
+eagerness for his society and attentions is utterly unbecoming, to say
+the least,” and very properly she would not speak to him for a week
+afterwards.
+
+All the same, Turner was seriously discomfited; he thoroughly liked
+Truscott and he loved his regiment, was proud of its name and its
+record, proud of the honor of its officers and of their ladies. In
+her fury Mrs. Turner had told him that those two names, Truscott’s
+and Mrs. Tanner’s, were bandied about all through the Territory. He
+didn’t believe it, but something had to be done if such were the case.
+He didn’t want to go to the colonel with the story, for then there
+would be an awful row. He did not want to go to Truscott, for then
+he would have to give his authority, and the chances were that in
+tracing the thing to its foundation there would be no end of snarls
+and entanglements, and if any man was found to have had a word in
+the thing, why, the Lord be merciful to us, thought Turner—Truscott
+or that man would have a military funeral, and we’re having too much
+of that now. Raymond was away and he couldn’t consult him; as for the
+others, the only man at headquarters whom he felt willing to talk to
+was old Bucketts, and Bucketts had blocked the whole game by sharply
+declining to hear a word on the subject “I don’t know; I don’t want to
+know. Whatever it is, it’s a d—d infamous lie, and I won’t listen to
+it!” said the quartermaster hotly. It seems he had overheard Canker
+and Wilkins one evening, had just caught enough of their conversation
+to get the drift of it, and had thereupon burst upon their startled
+ears with such a “tongue-lashing” as even their wives did not often
+devote to them. Just what to do Turner could not imagine, but, as has
+been said, the all-engrossing excitements of the campaign soon drove
+the matter out of his thoughts, and when that was over the ladies
+had apparently dropped it. Then Major and Mrs. Treadwell had been
+promoted to another sphere of duty and left Arizona, and up to this
+day neither Tanner, Truscott, nor Colonel Pelham had ever heard a word
+of the story. As for Mrs. Tanner, it soon became evident even to her
+detractors that her general character and conduct would absolutely
+render them liable to the imputation of deliberate slander. The men
+would listen to no repetition of their statements. The contractor’s
+wife, who with the nurse had started the story, had both fallen into
+the further disrepute to be expected of them, and Mrs. Treadwell, the
+one reliable though only partial witness, was now two thousand miles
+away. And so the story only smouldered for two or three years, and
+even when, a few months before the coming of her ladyship, the Tanners
+had been transferred with their troop to regimental headquarters,
+and several ladies watchfully waited to note the bearing of Truscott
+and Mrs. Tanner towards each other, the sharpest eye could detect no
+difference between the grave courtesy with which he always treated her
+in public and that which marked his intercourse with all the rest.
+
+As for other indications, he perhaps was more frequently at Tanner’s at
+dinner or tea than elsewhere, but always with Tanner, and it must be
+confessed that the situation was rather disappointing.
+
+All this or most of it, and much more than some parts of it, Mrs.
+Pelham listened to with politely veiled avidity, and when finally she
+had extracted all the information possible from her three not unwilling
+witnesses (once started they outrivalled one another in volubility),
+she carefully expressed her conviction that though there might have
+been something very imprudent some years past, it was all over and done
+with now. “And so we won’t tell any one of this conversation, will
+we?” was the parting injunction to the ladies of her “suite” as the
+appearance of Colonel Pelham, sturdily tramping up the walk, warned
+them that it was time to change the subject. Then as that gentleman
+manifested no desire to remain with them, but immediately inquired for
+Truscott and went in to see him, the ladies, finding other subjects of
+trivial interest compared with the one they had so wellnigh exhausted,
+concluded to leave.
+
+But tell it Mrs. Pelham did, and mercilessly, and soon
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Notwithstanding his prophecy that Canker and the boys would whip the
+renegades back into the reservation in two or three days, the general
+determined to go down to Sandy and take a hand himself. All that
+day he had fidgeted about the office dissatisfied with the meagre
+reports that came, and the more that came the more it looked as though
+Canker’s brief administration of command had not been felicitous.
+At five o’clock in the afternoon he quietly appeared at the house,
+and without telling Colonel Pelham of his intention, was making his
+characteristically brief preparations for the start when the colonel
+caught him in the act, and very positively announced that he would
+go too. Mrs. Pelham had protested, of course, but there were some
+things in which she could not move her lord, and this was one of them.
+“There, now, Dolly,” he said, “that will do. I’ve only ten minutes
+in which to get ready and no time for argument. Where’s Grace?” So
+Grace came with ready hand to her father’s assistance, asking no
+questions and evidently regarding his decision as eminently proper and
+incontrovertible.
+
+Her ladyship would fain have button-holed the general himself and
+importuned him not to let the colonel go, but, once before in her life,
+such a performance on her part had come to the ears of her ordinarily
+placid and even-tempered husband, and his remarks anent that piece
+of petticoat interference had been a revelation. Indeed, nothing but
+tears, contrition, and a solemn promise on her part never, never to
+do such a thing again had saved her from consequences more serious
+than a marital lecture; but this was a long time ago, so long that
+her resolution never to do so again had been modified by the mental
+reservation of “when there is a possibility of being found out.”
+
+The general, indeed, had not intended to take Pelham with him, yet
+was secretly glad to have him return at once to Sandy. “Things worked
+better when he was there.” And so it resulted that by six o’clock that
+afternoon Jack Truscott found himself left alone in a household of
+ladies.
+
+To say that he was downright unhappy over the circumstance would be
+more than so gallant and courteous a man as Truscott would say himself,
+but to say that he, on the contrary, was not, would be a wide departure
+from the truth. He knew nothing of his superior’s plans until the
+ambulance drove up to the door, and the sight of the general’s favorite
+aide in his well-worn and well-known scouting costume sent Truscott’s
+pulse up to one hundred and twenty at a bound.
+
+Stepping into the hall, he met Grace with her father’s cloak and Navajo
+blanket in her arms. “We are stealing a march on you, Mr. Truscott,”
+she smilingly remarked, glancing over her shoulder at the colonel
+himself, who came waddling after her down the stairs. Shall it be
+recorded? Truscott’s eyes, full of surprise and pain, even of reproach,
+had not so much as a glance for her; he answered not a word, but
+mutely stood questioning his chief.
+
+“I couldn’t help it, my dear boy; don’t look as though I had deserted
+you,” that warm-hearted gentleman had hastened to explain. “I only
+knew fifteen minutes ago that the general was going, and I decided to
+slip off and run down with him. I knew just how you’d feel, Truscott,
+and hadn’t the heart to tell you. Confound it, man, I’m only going to
+Sandy, not into the field, and if you’ll only keep quiet you will be
+able to come down yourself in less than a week.”
+
+“Has anything gone wrong?” asked Truscott.
+
+“Nothing at all. Only the general wants to look after things himself,
+and can do so more readily at Sandy than here. I’ll leave Mrs.
+Pelham in your charge, and you in Grace’s. Think you can keep him in
+subjection, daughter? He is tractable enough ordinarily, but just now
+he wants a steady hand.”
+
+Then the general came forth, followed by his philosophical wife, who
+was amiably assuring Lady Pelham that this was a thing she wouldn’t
+mind after six months in Arizona. “I’ve grown so used to it as never to
+be surprised at his waking up and starting off somewhere in the dead of
+night.”
+
+Five minutes more and the ambulance had rattled off down the
+hill, leaving the three ladies and Truscott a silent group on the
+piazza,—Grace looking sad and anxious, madame melodramatic, Truscott
+very pale and quiet, and their hostess alone cheery.
+
+“Come, now, I won’t have any moping,” she said. “We’ll get everybody
+up here this evening and have lots of fun. Jack Truscott, you shall
+have twenty nurses. Grace, all the infantry boys will be here on your
+account. Come, let’s go in and order tea. I’m hungry as a dozen bears.”
+
+Early in the evening Truscott managed to slip away from the noisy party
+assembled in the parlor and sought his own room. He excused himself to
+his hostess on the plea of fatigue, and she, big-hearted woman that she
+was, and knowing full well that his heart was anywhere but in the glee
+and merriment and music and twaddle going on, covered his retreat very
+successfully.
+
+Later she went to his door with some comforting drink of her own
+manufacture, found him sitting up and pretending to read, and later
+still, noting the interest with which Grace had inquired for him, she
+placed some delicate custard in her hands, saying, “Take it to him;
+he’ll like it.”
+
+Truscott heard the light footsteps he had already learned to recognize
+coming along the hall, then a pause at his door, and presently a timid,
+fluttering little knock. “Come in,” he said.
+
+The door slowly opened, and there stood Grace upon the threshold
+smiling and with a suspicion of heightened color in her face. He rose
+to greet her, but she protested. “Don’t get up; I was asked to bring
+this to you,” with the slightest emphasis on the “asked.” Nevertheless
+he stepped to the doorway, took the custard from her hands, and then,
+leaning against the door-post, stood looking down at her.
+
+“Miss Pelham, are you in a merciful mood?” he asked.
+
+“I! Unquestionably. Why not?” And the earnest eyes looked frankly up in
+his face.
+
+“Then you will grant me absolution for a sin of omission,” he said,
+smiling. “The sight of my chief starting for the war-path startled me
+into a rudeness towards you.”
+
+“In that you did not answer an utterly unimportant remark of mine, I
+suppose. As you _ought_ to have discovered, Mr. Truscott, I claim to
+be a soldier’s daughter, and do not expect to be considered at such a
+time.”
+
+“Then you are a marvellous exception to the rest of your sisterhood,”
+said Jack, with an emphatic impulsiveness very unusual in him.
+
+“Indeed, Mr. Truscott? Is that your opinion of our sex? How did
+you ever succeed in winning the name of being so very gallant and
+courteous, I wonder? I thought you the champion of all the ladies of
+the regiment. I’m sure they do; and what _would_ they say if your
+treachery were known?” she added, laughing.
+
+“I am at your mercy,” he replied. “Betray me and I am ruined. Thank you
+for bringing this to me, and good-night. Don’t let me keep you from the
+fun.”
+
+A ring at the door-bell, and the servant admitted a tall sergeant of
+cavalry. “A despatch for Lieutenant Truscott,” they heard him say.
+Truscott called to him to come thither, and as he opened the envelope
+Grace, not knowing why, but anxious for any news, remained.
+
+Leaning against the casement he slowly read the message, and Grace
+patiently stood looking up into the pale, clear-cut face.
+
+“This will be welcome news to Mrs. Tanner,” he said, presently, “and I
+would like her to know it to-night. Is she here?” he asked Grace.
+
+“Mrs. Tanner? No. She has not been here at all.”
+
+“She never had heart for fun of any kind when he was in the field,
+Miss Pelham, and this will greatly relieve her anxiety. His company is
+ordered to remain at the agency on guard for a few days; the others
+have gone across into the Red Rock country. Take this over to Captain
+Lee’s quarters and ask that it be shown to Mrs. Tanner at once,
+sergeant, then come back to me,” he said; then turning again to Grace,
+“Late as it is I think she will still be awake, and this news may put
+her to sleep.”
+
+“I am so glad for her sake. She seems so very lovable a woman. They
+have all been extremely pleasant to me, but there was something
+especially winning in her manner, and I like her greatly. _You_ know
+her very well, do you not?” asked she, still looking frankly up in his
+eyes.
+
+“Better than any of the ladies, I think,” he replied. “May I ask how
+you so readily divine my friendships?”
+
+“I had heard that you were very warm friends. It was Mr. Glenham who
+told me—I think.” (You knew, Grace, and it wasn’t like you to hesitate
+there.)
+
+“Ah, yes,—Glenham,” he repeated, while for the life of him he could
+not repress a mischievous merriment on noting how at the mention of
+the name she had faltered, and, under the steady glance of his eyes,
+colored red an instant after. “Glenham has doubtless been a most
+efficient means of strengthening your acquaintance with the regiment,
+but I warn you against his enthusiasm; you will come expecting to find
+us models of genius and geniality, and will be all the more bitterly
+disappointed.”
+
+“He certainly glories in his regiment, Mr. Truscott, and, as one of his
+heroes, you ought not to disparage his opinions.”
+
+“Grace dear, I want you,” at this juncture was heard in solemn and
+remorseless tones from the other end of the hall. Grace started like
+the guilty thing she certainly was not, and beheld the matronly
+form of her ladyship rigidly posed at the parlor-door. There was
+something indefinably, gratingly disagreeable about her voice and
+manner, that intangible something that a woman can throw into her
+tones as expressive of the extreme of displeasure, and yet be able
+to subsequently and triumphantly establish that you have no grounds
+whatever for saying so.
+
+“Good-night, Mr. Truscott,” said Grace. “Please let me know when you
+send any despatch to the valley.” Then seeing her mother still stonily,
+severely awaiting her, she did just what she would not have done had
+she felt herself unwatched,—turned, held out her slender hand, and
+said, warmly, “I _do_ hope you will have a good night’s rest and feel
+ever so much better to-morrow. Good-night,” and then walked briskly
+off down the hall, looking calmly into her mother’s face. That lady
+contented herself for the time being with ushering her erring daughter
+into the parlor. It must be admitted that the latter had delayed much
+longer at Truscott’s door than the delivery of a plate of custard could
+possibly warrant, and that her present attitude towards her mother was
+not as dutiful and loving as it might be.
+
+Half an hour afterwards, when the guests of the evening had gone home
+and the ladies were preparing to abandon the parlor, Truscott himself
+appeared at the doorway. Her ladyship was at the moment indulging in
+some slight refreshment in the dining-room. He held a large despatch
+envelope in his hand. “Miss Pelham, you desired me to let you know when
+I had opportunity of sending word to the valley. It seems that the
+sergeant is to start at daybreak to ride in search of Captain Canker’s
+command, and I am sending a few lines by him. He will be glad to take
+anything you have.”
+
+“To Captain Canker’s command? Thank you, Mr. Truscott. I do not know of
+any one with him. It was to father I wanted to write.”
+
+“Oh, pardon me,” said Jack. “I’m sorry, but the sergeant will cross
+the valley way to the north of the post, and won’t be apt to see any
+one from there. I thought it possible you might wish to send a message
+after some friends in the field column.”
+
+“I believe not,” she answered. “Who is there with him to whom I owe a
+message?” she asked, laughingly.
+
+“I can simply answer for it that there are six or eight who would
+be most happy to receive one,” said he, with an odd relapse into
+his regimental manner of somewhat stately courtesy. “May I be the
+transmitter?”
+
+“Evidently he is thinking of Mr. Glenham,” said Grace to herself, and
+a strange shade of annoyance swept over her. His change of manner too
+struck her at once.
+
+“Is it the customary thing in Arizona for us non-combatants to send
+sustaining and encouraging messages to the front?” she coolly inquired.
+“If so, put me down for anything that may occur to you as at once
+brilliant and to the point. Mr. Truscott, that smile is satirical, and
+you plainly mean to indicate that _then_ it would be recognised at once
+as not my message.”
+
+“Miss Pelham, I am no match for such acuteness. Are you repenting
+having shown mercy half an hour ago?”
+
+“Not quite, but that very superior smile is an aggravation, I confess.
+Now, who is there to whom you supposed I wanted to send a message?
+Answer that.”
+
+“Let me answer by saying that Messrs. Glenham, Hunter, and Dana are by
+this time with Captain Canker, and that Mr. Ray with his company will
+have joined him to-morrow. I name them as young gentlemen any one of
+whom would be charmed by a message from you, and two of them I have
+heard absolutely raving about you.”
+
+“Now you expect me to ask which two, do you not? But I decline. Mr. Ray
+I never met until three days ago, though I have heard of him, and have
+wanted to know him ever since father joined the —th. The others I knew
+when they were cadets. Mr. Hunter has already distinguished himself.
+Has Mr. Glenham been engaged?”
+
+“Is not that a matter on which your own sex would be better informed
+than I?” he asked, wilfully and mischievously.
+
+She replied almost coldly.
+
+“The question is utterly unworthy of you, Mr. Truscott. I mean, and you
+know I mean, to ask has Mr. Glenham been in action?”
+
+“She must know perfectly well whether he has or not,” thought Jack, but
+gravely replied, “No. Glenham says that it is his ill luck. He has had
+a few scouts, but the Indians have kept out of his way as yet. My note
+is to him. You might inspire him.”
+
+“And Mr. Ray?” she queried.
+
+“Mr. Ray is a hero of many engagements, martial and matrimonial, and
+I am bound to say that it isn’t his fault that he has escaped with so
+little danger. He has received more recommendations for brevets for the
+one and more ‘mittens’ for the other than any man in the regiment. I
+testify to the first as custodian of the records, to the second on his
+own frank statements. Ray says that he has been refused at least once a
+year ever since he graduated.”
+
+“Mr. Ray is unusually candid. Is it to him you suggest my sending a
+message?”
+
+“I do not presume to suggest anybody. You desired to be informed when I
+had a chance of sending a messenger to ‘the valley,’ and I was so much
+in error as to fancy that you might want to send a message to some one
+in the command. Then my sympathies being with the possible recipient
+made me obtrusive. I really beg pardon, Miss Pelham.”
+
+Stepping to the door he quickly summoned the sergeant, handed him the
+package, “Give it to Lieutenant Glenham,” he said, and then returning
+to her with a quiet smile on his face, “So it goes without a pleasant
+word for him after all, Miss Pelham.”
+
+“Certainly,” said Grace. “Mr. Glenham would be surprised, to say the
+least, at receiving any message from me.”
+
+For an instant, only an instant, an expression of pain, even
+incredulity, shot across his face. Brief as it was, looking steadfastly
+into his eyes, she saw it and it stung her. But he recovered himself
+and promptly, pleasantly spoke.
+
+“Then it seems that I have twice to ask pardon. I’m glad my first
+offence did _not_ offend, and shall strive to make amends for my
+second.”
+
+What Grace would have said cannot be told. Once again there suddenly
+appeared before them her ladyship, re-entering from the dining-room
+with her hostess. Once again the measured tones of her voice broke in
+upon their interview. “Well, Mr. Truscott, I thought you left us two
+hours ago to seek repose?”
+
+“I did, Mrs. Pelham,” replied the adjutant, with calm civility, “and
+found it.” And then, apparently inviting further remark, he stood
+looking seriously down into her flushed features. She began to hate him
+from that minute, but then it was the most natural thing in the world
+that she should do so.
+
+At that instant there came a knock at the front door, and a servant
+handed in a note. “For Lieutenant Truscott,” he said, “and there is no
+answer.”
+
+“Why, Jack,” said the general’s wife in her straightforward innocence
+of all possible harm, “that’s Mrs. Tanner’s writing. What is she
+sending for at this time of night? I hope Rosalie isn’t sick. She can’t
+have bad news either. What is it?”
+
+“With your permission, then, I’ll open it,” said he; and with Mrs.
+Pelham’s eyes glaring upon him he calmly glanced over the lines.
+“Nothing wrong,” he continued. “She merely writes to thank me for
+sending word of Tanner’s detention at the agency.” And yet madame
+could have sworn that where the strong light from the hall-lamp fell
+upon the page in his hand the distinctly saw the words, “God bless you,
+dear Jack.” And so she did.
+
+For three days after this event the confinement and monotony of his
+life would have told on a man stronger than Truscott. No news came from
+Canker’s command, no especial tidings from Sandy. He had much fever,
+and was confined to his room many hours each day. When he did appear
+Grace was not visible. His hostess brought kind inquiries from her each
+day, and he frequently heard her blithe voice in the hall or mingling
+in the hum of conversation in the parlor. On the third day, while the
+doctor was dressing his shoulder and congratulating him upon a release
+from confinement that morning, his hostess, who had been unremitting
+in her care of and attentions to her favorite subaltern, came to the
+door to ask the doctor if she could not take Mr. Truscott in town for a
+drive. Receiving his permission, she was off in a moment, and presently
+came back delighted. “Jack,” she whispered, “I am going to take Grace,
+too. Her ladyship is out of the way, and Grace has just got back from
+band practice. Ain’t we in luck?”
+
+Truscott expressed due enthusiasm, and in a few minutes the trio were
+bowling along the smooth road to Prescott. The bracing air, the bright
+sunshine, the rapid motion, perhaps too the very sweet face and dainty
+form of Grace Pelham seated so near him, all tended to bring brightness
+to his eye and color to his wan cheek. Looking critically at him as he
+sat opposite her, conversing with her _chaperon_, Grace decided that
+he was an undeniably handsome man. But he spoke very little to or with
+her, and this seemed odd to the general’s lady. Match-makers as her sex
+are by every instinct of their being, she had already determined that
+here was the very girl she wanted to see married to her friend. Rumors
+of Glenham’s devotion had of course reached her, but she had virtually
+scouted all ideas of the kind. Her ladyship, Mrs. Pelham, had twice
+or thrice waxed confidential and shown an inclination to speak of him
+and of Grace in conjunction, so had other women, but the lady would
+not listen. “Don’t mention him in the same breath,” she exclaimed to
+Mrs. Wickham and to Mrs. Wilkins, to the latter’s huge delight. “She
+has more brains in her little finger than he in his whole good-natured
+head.”
+
+Somebody went so far as to say that she had pitched into her husband,
+the general himself, for inviting Glenham to dine with them _en
+famille_ before the ball. “It’s as good as giving her dead away, and
+I don’t believe she likes it at all,” was what she did say, and the
+chief had absolved himself by explaining that Mrs. Pelham herself
+had requested it. This had mollified madame to a certain extent, but
+increased the dislike she had already begun to feel for that lady.
+
+She was determined to bring them together, and so, on arriving in town,
+had bounced out of the Concord wagon (which answered all her purposes
+as well as a landau) and saying she merely wanted to look in at two
+or three shops, had precipitated upon her unprepared companions a
+_tête-à-tête_ which neither had expected and yet to which each was by
+no means disinclined.
+
+From all that he had heard, Truscott had been led to suppose that, if
+not actually engaged, it was more than probable that Miss Pelham and
+his friend very soon would be. Consequently, when he confronted her the
+morning after the ball, her face bathed in tears, just having parted
+from her lover as he set forth on his hurried, probably dangerous duty,
+Truscott had many reasons for supposing that the rumors were true,
+and that it was not altogether a loveless match, as the ladies would
+have made it, on her part. Else why should she have been so distressed
+at parting? He had been unfeignedly glad to believe she did care so
+much for him. He knew well how Glenham loved her, though the subject
+had never been mentioned between them. Glenham, indeed, had more than
+once given shy indication that he would not mind confiding the whole
+story of his hopes and fears to his friend, but Truscott never invited
+confidences and preferred not to be made a recipient in this case.
+Everything Grace said or did attracted him from the first moment of
+their meeting up to the time of his sending that letter to Glenham.
+He liked, admired, and was beginning to feel a warm interest in her,
+when she calmly looked him in the face and said, “Mr. Glenham would
+be surprised at receiving any message from me.” “It was all very well
+in her to decline sending a message,” thought Jack, “but why should
+she attempt to—why should she desire to deceive me? It’s none of my
+business, of course; but it isn’t what I had hoped for Glenham.”
+
+As for Grace. We have seen that she did not care for Glenham, and was
+distressed by his avowal. No woman wants to be considered attached to
+a man for whom she feels nothing more than a friendly interest. She
+saw in Jack Truscott a knightly soldier. She had heard of him for two
+years as the model officer of the regiment, her father’s stand-by and
+stanchest friend, and when she met him he was bleeding from a recent
+fray in which all knew he had borne himself most gallantly. She saw
+him, even in his fatigue and suffering, gentle, patient, courteous.
+She heard of his bitter grief in the loss of his favorite horse, and,
+thorough horsewoman herself, she had warmly sympathized with him
+in that sorrow. She had been able to serve him in his anxiety and
+loneliness the very day of their first meeting—then—then she had been
+made to suffer on his account, to bear her mother’s injustice because
+of her interest in him, and then—and now—he believed her engaged to or
+in love with Arthur Glenham.
+
+Given these conditions and a heart absolutely free before, a somewhat
+romantic streak somewhere in her composition, and an enthusiastic
+love for all that was soldierly and knightly in man, it must be
+admitted that it only needed the strenuous opposition of parents or
+circumstances to render any woman liable to fall in love. And now
+Grace Pelham was being opposed in what she deemed a perfectly proper
+and justifiable interest in Mr. Truscott. She was being reminded in
+every look from the maternal eye that she was expected to concentrate
+her thoughts on Mr. Arthur Glenham. She——Oh, well, why dissect the
+situation further? She probably would have indignantly repudiated
+the idea that already she was falling in love. Far be it from the
+writer to assert anything of the kind, but one thing is certain:
+she did not want him to think her engaged to or in love with his
+friend, Mr. Glenham, and was worried and perturbed in spirit that
+he evidently did think so. More than that, she had begun to read
+him well enough to realize that he considered her virtual denial of
+Glenham as disingenuous, and this stung her to the quick. Now she had
+an opportunity of talking uninterruptedly with him, but how was she
+to introduce such a subject? Time was short. It was he who broke the
+silence.
+
+“You have not been riding since I came, Miss Pelham. When am I to have
+the pleasure of seeing you in the saddle?”
+
+“Indeed I don’t know. Everything was broken up by the regiment’s rush
+to the field. We have been so anxious I have hardly cared to ride,
+and—shall I be humble and confess it?—nobody has asked me since the
+ball. Don’t the staff or infantry officers ride?”
+
+“Some of the youngsters do, very well,” said Truscott. “Possibly
+‘mounts’ are not to be had.”
+
+“But Mr. Glenham rode a very nice horse, and we were to have gone again
+day before yesterday,” she said, “and he told me that both the horses
+we used were regimental horses.”
+
+“They are off in the Mogollon range somewhere by this time, but when
+you get down to Sandy you shall ride all you can desire. We have just
+the very nicest kind of a ‘mount’ for you there, a quick, nimble little
+bay full of style and action, plenty of fire, too, and I do not believe
+a horse at Sandy can catch him. Glenham wants to buy him provided the
+company commander will part with him.”
+
+“To whose company does he belong?”
+
+“Captain Tanner’s,” answered Truscott. “You will easily win him over to
+your cause, for he worships a woman who rides well.”
+
+“Then Mrs. Tanner must want to keep the horse: she rides, of course?”
+
+“No, Mrs. Tanner never rides. It is one of the sorrows of her life, I
+think; she gave up all attempts some years ago.”
+
+“What a pity! An army woman who cannot ride loses half the joy of being
+in the cavalry; but, does no one besides Mr. Glenham ride the horse you
+speak of?”
+
+“A trumpeter boy of Tanner’s troop ordinarily, and Tanner won’t let
+the ladies at Sandy ride him at all; their hands are too uncertain, he
+says. As for Glenham or any of our heavy weights, he would not permit
+it.”
+
+“Then how did you and Mr. Glenham decide he would be just the mount for
+me?”
+
+“Ray did that, I believe; he doesn’t ride over a hundred and forty, and
+has a very light hand, light as any girl’s on the bit, and Tanner would
+let him have his whole stable. When your coming was first announced,
+and the young officers commenced telling of your riding at the Point,
+they decided on having a suitable horse for you. Ray came up from
+Cameron on a scout, and he picked out ‘Ranger,’ and last week Glenham
+was in despair because there was no suitable side-saddle, and the
+colonel said it would be some time before yours could arrive.”
+
+(“Always ‘Glenham’ or ‘they, the young officers,’” thought Grace. “Am I
+so far beneath him that he could not afford to take any part in these
+preparations?”)
+
+“You have never ridden ‘Ranger’ yourself, then, Mr. Truscott?”
+
+“Three or four times, possibly, just to try him and teach him a little
+better manners than he would be apt to learn from his ordinary rider,
+the trumpeter.”
+
+“Will he stand the skirt, do you think? That seems to be the great
+objection at first to a spirited horse.”
+
+“Very well; he has been practised with a trailing blanket and then with
+Mrs. Tanner’s old skirt.”
+
+“And Captain Tanner—or was it the young officers, as you say, who took
+all these precautions in my behalf? Pray whom am I to thank?”
+
+“Nobody, Miss Pelham. They all look upon a young lady who would resign
+the sweets of civilization to come out to us as a being for whom no
+degree of devotion can be too great.”
+
+“Now, Mr. Truscott, that is all very gratifying, too good to be true,
+perhaps, and I mean to cross-examine you a moment. You say ‘they
+all,’ referring, I suppose, to the ‘young officers’ aforementioned.
+Now tell me to whom you refer; I had been led to suppose that of the
+four companies at Sandy, Mr. Glenham, Mr. Crane, and Mr. Carroll were
+the only young officers, the other lieutenants being on leave or
+staff duty, or detached in some way, or like Mr. Wilkins, married and
+settled down; and Mr. Crane being neither young in years nor exhibiting
+anything like the faintest desire to make my acquaintance, the number
+seems limited. _Who_ were _they_?”
+
+Truscott laughed merrily, and looked frankly down into the bright face
+before him. “You are too analytical,” he said. “I shall have to stop
+and consider the weight of every word when talking with you. You see I
+included Ray, Hunter, and Dana in the list with Glenham, because they
+all took a hand when at the post.”
+
+“Which must have been very seldom, if at all, for Mr. Hunter and Mr.
+Dana both told me they never got a chance to come to headquarters, and
+were so eager to do so.”
+
+“Undoubtedly they are now,” said Truscott; “but they looked upon it as
+purgatorial before.”
+
+“Still you don’t answer my question, and you compel me to riddle your
+statements. It finally must be reduced to the melancholy fact that Mr.
+Glenham was the only one at Sandy who took an interest in my coming. I
+am not exacting. I had looked for nothing of the kind, but when you say
+‘all the young officers,’ and allude to such numbers being engrossed in
+preparation, you must admit my right to disappointment either in them
+or my informant when I find there is only one. Furthermore, you have
+not once had the grace to confess yourself one of the interested.”
+
+“That would simply have been presumption. I alluded to the young
+officers.”
+
+“And Mr. Ray, who graduated but one year behind you, and is said to
+be one year older, why include him and exclude yourself, unless truth
+compelled you to the admission that you had no earthly interest in the
+matter? Mr. Truscott, you have taught me a lesson, but you leave me in
+no further doubt. It is evident that I am to thank Mr. Glenham for all
+the training of my horse (O Grace, what a subterfuge!), and that the
+others were merely accidentally interested.”
+
+“Miss Pelham, you overwhelm me with the consciousness of my neglect.
+Glenham has so devoted himself to the matter that no efforts of mine
+could have competed with his, and yet, I assure you, he will require no
+thanks other than your pleasure in the general result.”
+
+Grace Pelham was ready to stamp her pretty foot at this juncture.
+Anything or anybody so utterly imperturbable as her new acquaintance
+she had never met. She shrewdly suspected that poor Glenham had never
+so much as attempted to mount the new horse, and that it being Mrs.
+Tanner’s skirt that was employed, Jack Truscott himself had taken
+charge of that part of the lessons. Womanlike, she longed to extract
+the admission from his lips, but he would admit nothing. Then came
+their jolly hostess, bundle-laden, and then, to her dismay, Mrs.
+Wilkins with a party of friends from the post, in a vehicle similar to
+their own.
+
+Truscott removed his forage-cap in salutation, and Mrs. Wilkins’s
+unmodulated tones straightway filled the plaza. “Is it you, Mr.
+Truscott, and you, Miss Gracie?” (“Confound the woman!” thought Jack,
+savagely biting his moustache, “how dare she call her that?”) “Faith,
+I thought it was time you were getting him out in the air. You look
+like a ghost; have you any news from the boys, pray? It’s time we were
+hearing from them, I’m sure. How is your mother, Miss Pelham? I’d call
+to see her, but I never feel like talking when the regiment is out
+scouting” (here Grace’s eyes sought Truscott’s, and found them brimming
+over with merriment. They had some thoughts in common, then), “but I’ll
+be over to-night or to-morrow; you and he won’t miss me, I’ll be bound.
+Go on, driver. Good-by all!” And off she rattled, triumphant.
+
+“Jack Truscott,” said their matron, impressively, “do you know what I
+would do with that woman if she were in my regiment, if I had one? I’d
+appoint a day for prayer and humiliation, and——What are you laughing
+at? You know you detest the ground she walks on.”
+
+“Being Arizona soil, there is no harm in that, madame; but were harm to
+come to Mrs. Wilkins the spice of life at Sandy would be snatched away.
+To me she is invaluable.”
+
+Bowling briskly along the smooth, hard road, they were soon again
+within the limits of the military settlement and in sight of
+headquarters. Grace Pelham, baffled in her effort to extract from
+Mr. Truscott some admission that he had been instrumental in the
+training of her horse, and feeling vaguely that she had not succeeded
+in penetrating the armor of reserve with which he was surrounded,
+determined on a final sally.
+
+Turning to the general’s wife, she broke forth,—
+
+“Mr. Truscott has mystified me completely. He tells me of a capital
+horse awaiting me at Sandy, and endeavors to make me believe that a
+number of young officers, as he calls them, have had him in training
+for some time.”
+
+“Young officers, indeed!” burst in her friend. “When I was there with
+the general, three weeks ago, the _young_ officers were watching Mr.
+Jack Truscott himself. He was cavorting round on that very bay, with
+somebody’s old skirt, or a blanket, almost every day.”
+
+Grace had won her point, but had no time for remarks on the subject.
+The ambulance whirled up to the general’s quarters, and there on the
+piazza stood Mrs. Pelham with her hands full of letters.
+
+“Mail for everybody but me,” she remarked, as the ladies, scoffing at
+the idea of accepting assistance from a one-armed man, sprang out, and
+then jocularly offered to assist Mr. Truscott. “Grace, you will want
+to run and read yours at once, I know.” And she ostentatiously handed
+a little note to her. “These, madame, are yours.” And their hostess
+turned away to peer into the envelopes of her letters and wonder who
+could have written them. Then Mrs. Pelham turned to Truscott with a
+small packet of letters, “And these for you. I know _that_ handwriting
+to be Ralph’s; would you mind opening it at once and letting me know
+how he is?”
+
+The topmost letter in Truscott’s package was post-marked San Francisco,
+and addressed, in a dashing, bold hand. He recognized it at once
+as coming from Ralph Pelham, his colonel’s second son; and, with
+Mrs. Pelham’s eyes eagerly searching his face, he slowly opened and
+commenced to read. He had never received a line from young Pelham
+before in his life, and, though knowing him well, was surprised at the
+mere sight of a letter from him. Even as he opened the envelope he
+noted the keen anxiety in Mrs. Pelham’s face, and it put him on his
+guard. The first line was enough to test his nerve, but he glanced down
+the page, coolly turned the leaf and read the next, then very gently
+and courteously addressed her ladyship: “He seems in capital health,
+madame. You were not anxious about it, I hope?”
+
+“Who, mother?” asked Grace, rejoining them at this moment and fearing
+that her father was spoken of.
+
+“Merely a—not your father, Grace, so you need not worry. He is
+perfectly well, as this letter will show you,” replied madame,
+hurriedly.
+
+Grace took the letter her mother handed her, and with one glance in
+Truscott’s face, a look in which inquiry was blended with surprise,
+turned and left them.
+
+“Mr. Truscott,” said Mrs. Pelham the instant they were again alone, “I
+did not know Ralph wrote to you. He—he has been somewhat wild at times,
+and I fully expected a letter from him to-day, but the letter is to
+you. His father is very anxious about him, and only yesterday wrote me
+that he wished Ralph were here again instead of in San Francisco. The
+colonel says you had so good an influence over him. Mr. Truscott, tell
+me if anything has gone wrong with my boy.”
+
+And Jack Truscott, looking steadily down in the anxious face before
+him, replied,—
+
+“Nothing that I know of, and nothing shall that I can avert. This
+letter is about a matter of business in which I am interested. You
+should see the letter, but it concerns others besides myself.” And Lady
+Pelham, relieved in mind yet vaguely feeling that something might be
+extracted by dexterous cross-questioning, was compelled to drop the
+subject. She thanked him somewhat hesitatingly, looked as though she
+longed to ask still more, but drew aside and watched him as, with a
+grave bow, he entered the hall and went to his own room.
+
+There Truscott seated himself by the window, and this time slowly read
+the following letter:
+
+                                         “SAN FRANCISCO, November 15.
+
+  “TRUSCOTT,—Just what you warned me against has come to pass. You made
+  me promise that if I got into the scrape I would write at once and
+  let you know. God knows I don’t know another soul to whom to turn.
+  It is for five hundred dollars this time, and I’ve given my note at
+  thirty days. You see, they know my people, feel sure of their money,
+  and would rather have the interest on it than the cash. But they
+  don’t know what I know,—that father is drained dry; that Grace’s
+  outfit the mother insisted on her having and this tremendous pull of
+  a journey have strapped him completely. Four months ago he wrote me
+  sadly enough not to draw for a cent, and things were booming then. I
+  had been doing first-rate. Consolidated Virginia brought me in eight
+  hundred dollars in a week. To be sure, Best and Belcher knocked most
+  of it out of me, but the other fellows in the office were wild over
+  the New Nevada, and, Jack, I raised the money for the margins, and
+  it’s gone—utterly gone.
+
+  “What am I to do? Why do you wish me to write you? I cannot meet
+  this. I see nothing for it but a bullet or a bolt to the mines,
+  where I can change my name with my shirt and hire out as a day
+  laborer. The brokers will show me up to the firm and the situation be
+  swept from under me instanter.
+
+  “If you mean that you can get Glenham to let me have five hundred
+  dollars at once to meet my note I will give you my word to stick to
+  my desk, to live _en retraite_, and not to speculate or gamble a cent
+  until it is paid. Glenham has two or three thousand idle in the bank
+  here I know; but, my God, I can’t ask _him_ for money, and hardly
+  know him at all. But father must not know, and above all Grace. She
+  would scorn me if she knew I had accepted a cent from him, and she is
+  right. Yet it is that or ruin, Truscott, and—you helped me when I was
+  in Arizona last year—for God’s sake, for father’s sake, who trusts
+  you so, keep my secret, and if you see a way to help me, believe in
+  my resolution. Wire or write at once.
+
+      “Yours,                      RALPH PELHAM.”
+
+Truscott sat with pale, stern features, his eyes fixed on vacancy, the
+letter resting on his knee. He heard the voices of the ladies in the
+hall, the rustle of feminine skirts past his door, the tinkle of the
+luncheon-bell, but he did not stir. A year previous Ralph Pelham had
+spent a month in Arizona with his father, had been thrown frequently
+into Truscott’s society, and had soon learned to look up to him in
+every way. Pelham was only twenty-two, full of spirit and buoyant with
+hope, a handsome, cheery, reckless fellow, who had all the attributes
+of a mother’s darling and a father’s torment. The colonel loved his
+boy, but shrank from exercising much control over his movements.
+He knew the youngster had his full share of youthful frivolity, had
+cheerfully paid his boyish debts, and had shaken his head at some
+college extravagances; but Ralph was the “brightest” of his sons, every
+one said, and beyond doubt the most indulged. A very good position had
+been secured for him in a business house in San Francisco, his salary
+was fair, his prospects fairer, and all had promised well. Truscott,
+however, had heard from the boy’s own lips in the confidence resulting
+from an escapade of the previous year that he had, in common with other
+young men in his station in life, a mania for getting rich in a hurry
+and without the equivalent of labor. The fever of speculation was
+raging all over the Pacific coast. Fortunes were being made every week
+and lost every day. During a brief stay there Ralph Pelham had fallen
+in with some acquaintances whose haunt was Montgomery Street, had tried
+his luck on “margins,” and with ease and astonishment had realized a
+few hundred dollars,—just enough to inspire him with wild visions of
+wealth and grandeur, and to send him on his way to visit his father
+with an unaccustomed plethora of funds, and a concomitant inflation of
+conceit and business airs that vastly entertained the officers of the
+—th. The money was soon spent and lost; more was needed, for Truscott
+found his young friend deep in the toils of “draw-poker” on returning
+to Sandy from court-martial duty. The colonel had just advanced the
+boy a quarter’s allowance, and he dared ask for no more, and Truscott
+insisted on becoming his banker. “I make no conditions whatever,
+Pelham,” he said, “but, don’t play with those fellows, unless you
+really want to throw money away.” And Pelham had played no more at
+Sandy, where the scouts, the quartermaster’s employés, the traders, and
+occasionally one or two of the officers were to be found in the nightly
+game down at the store. But this strengthened his trust in Jack, and
+steadied him a great deal, and before he left he manfully told his
+father of the circumstance, begging him not to show Truscott that he
+knew it, and the old soldier had forgiven his young prodigal, provided
+him with money for his return to San Francisco, and Truscott suspected
+that the truth was known, because of the fatherly way his colonel had
+of speaking to him for some time after, but they never alluded to the
+matter.
+
+And now young Pelham was in a far more serious difficulty. Truscott
+read those lines again.
+
+“And above all Grace. She would scorn me if she knew I had accepted a
+cent from him, and she is right.”
+
+“Then Ralph, too, was certain there was an understanding or something
+like it between his sister and Glenham,” mused Truscott, and again
+the worn, tired look settled on his brow, and as he mused there came
+along the hall the quick, light step he was growing to know so well,
+the rustle of skirts that sent already a thrill to his heart, a light
+tap on his door; he sprang up, dashed his hand across his forehead,
+thrust the letter in the breast-pocket of his blouse, and strode to
+the doorway. There stood Grace with a tiny tray in her hands, a light
+luncheon and a cup of fragrant tea thereon.
+
+“We thought you too tired perhaps, or too busy, to come to the
+dining-room, so I was sent with this,” she said, smiling brightly. He
+bent and took the tray from her hands and placed it on the table in the
+room, thanking her as he did so, and stepping quickly back to her side.
+
+“I brought it myself,” she continued, smiling archly and mischievously,
+“in partial payment of a kindness and attention you would not confess.
+It was you who trained my horse, sir, and you strove to conceal the
+fact. Mr. Truscott, I don’t know how to thank you.”
+
+The frank, glorious eyes were gazing up into his; the sweet, mobile
+features, all smiles and sunshine, were turned towards him, her soft
+white hand toying with the fringe of the Indian tobacco-pouch that hung
+on the door-post. It was long since Truscott had looked upon a vision
+half so fair, and, despite himself, look he did earnestly, seeing which
+her eyes fell, a quick flush rose to her white forehead, she turned to
+go, but he recovered himself.
+
+“Don’t attempt to thank me,” he said. “Ride with me once or twice when
+we get to Sandy, and I will be more than repaid.”
+
+“Ride with you! Indeed I will—gladly.” And with that she was gone.
+
+Truscott stood gazing after her as she disappeared through the parlor
+doorway. There she had glanced quickly back: their eyes had met, she
+smiled brightly, but never stopped. For a full minute he stood there,
+then with a half-stifled sigh rising to his lips he turned to re-enter
+the room, when a white object on the floor at his feet caught his
+eye. He bent, picked it up, and bore it to the light. It was a dainty
+handkerchief, and in one corner was embroidered the simple name
+“Grace.”
+
+With bowed head he stood a few moments holding it in his hand, thinking
+intently, his eyes fixed upon the name. Then he took Ralph’s later
+from his pocket, read it once again, and softly repeated to himself
+the closing words, “For God’s sake, for father’s sake, who trusts you
+so, keep my secret, and if you see a way to help me, believe in my
+resolution.”
+
+“For God’s sake, for father’s sake. Yes,” he whispered, “for Grace’s
+sake I’ll help you, and then—and then—may God help me.”
+
+And when Ralph Pelham’s letter was replaced in the breast-pocket of
+Truscott’s uniform his sister’s handkerchief lay between it and the
+wearer’s heart.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+“She is no more engaged to him than I am, Jack Truscott, and you
+may take my word for it. More than that, it is my belief she has no
+interest in him whatever,—never has had, and that all the talk of this
+match is due to Lady Pelham’s manœuvring. The wish is mother to the
+thought.”
+
+So spoke the general’s wife the evening of the drive, and Truscott
+listened with outward calm, but with emotions far from placid. He had
+not seen Grace since their brief conversation, and, the ladies being
+out at tea, had spent several lonely hours. During the afternoon,
+however, he had visited the telegraph-office, and a despatch worded as
+follows was already in the hands of his anxious correspondent in San
+Francisco:
+
+  “RALPH PELHAM, Occidental Hotel, San Francisco.
+
+     “Rely on Glenham. All fixed. Letter by mail.
+
+                                              “TRUSCOTT.”
+
+Now considering the fact that Glenham was miles away in the mountains,
+with no possibility of communication, it may be considered a piece of
+assumption on Truscott’s part to make such positive use of his name.
+Truscott, however, though well knowing that his friend would be prompt
+to respond to any call he might make upon him, had no intention of
+putting him to the test.
+
+Some two years previous, after an extended consultation with some
+business friends in San Francisco, Truscott had placed his savings
+in the hands of a firm, one of whom he knew well and trusted. His
+wants were few in Arizona, his habits methodical, and from time to
+time he had added from his pay to the original amount. These were
+matters of which he never spoke to anybody, but the investment had
+proved moderately remunerative. The growing business of the firm led
+to further enterprises, and Jack’s money, with his entire consent,
+had been devoted with other funds in their hands to the purchase of a
+mining claim in Nevada, which gave promise of a profitable yield when
+properly developed. Already the firm had sent three successive offers
+to Truscott to purchase his stock at a tempting “rise,” but he had no
+need for money at the moment and decided that he preferred to hold on.
+The promise of the investment was quite as good as any other in which
+he could embark. Glenham for a while had placed ten times as much money
+in the hands of the same firm, but had declined to invest in the very
+purchase in which Truscott was interested. “I don’t know enough about
+mining ventures to risk it,” he said to Truscott, showing him the
+prospectus and the familiar letter-head of the firm. “What do you think
+of it, Jack?”
+
+“If you have money you don’t know what to do with, it might be put
+there as well as anywhere, but you know I never advise any one in a
+matter of this kind.”
+
+“Well, what would you do yourself?” persisted Glenham.
+
+“I never had so much money at my disposal, but it seems to me that it
+is poor policy to take it from a safe though slow investment to put it
+where you may lose the whole lump in no time.”
+
+Glenham inferred that Truscott had no confidence in the new scheme,
+never dreamed that he had invested his all therein (“Why tell him?”
+thought Jack, “he will then be sure to go in full tilt, and if we are
+swamped hold me accountable”), and had concluded to try elsewhere; but
+the firm held, as Pelham had stated, a few thousand dollars of his
+money, and within a week from the receipt of Truscott’s despatch young
+Ralph was relieved in mind by the arrival of a letter which, with one
+other, Truscott had written that very afternoon. It ran somewhat as
+follows:
+
+  “DEAR PELHAM,—On presentation of yourself and this note at Rundell,
+  Stearns & Co. you will find five hundred dollars at your disposal.
+  You know Stearns, I think: simply give him a receipt for the cash as
+  voucher.
+
+  “Glenham is off on a hurried dash after Apaches, but the matter was
+  easily arranged. I think it would be just as well _not_ to write him
+  any thanks, but to stick close to your work and resolution, and don’t
+  worry over the matter. Preaching is abhorrent to me, and experience,
+  though expensive, a far better teacher.
+
+  “Your letter reached me by the hand of Mrs. Pelham herself, and
+  excited her anxiety. I assured her you were well and in no trouble,
+  as she imagined. (Mental trouble was not allowed to count.) May I
+  suggest that frequent letters to her or to Miss Pelham would be the
+  easiest way of dispelling their anxiety and averting the possibility
+  of cross-questioning me? No one should know of this transaction,
+  and I can assure you that Glenham, who is a noble fellow, will not
+  breathe it to a soul. My reasons for suggesting that you say nothing
+  farther to him are cogent, but too many for explanation here. Be
+  guided by me, however, I will make all due acknowledgments.
+
+  “Were I to attempt to tell you of the sensation created by the
+  arrival of Miss Pelham this letter would require extra postage, and
+  I regard letters of that length as an imposition on friendship. The
+  colonel is at Sandy. I am on escort duty with the ladies, and expect
+  to join him next week.
+
+              “Yours sincerely,
+
+                “JOHN G. TRUSCOTT.”
+
+This letter, as was stated, was posted with another addressed to his
+business friend in the city:
+
+                            “FORT WHIPPLE, A. T., November 28, 18—.
+
+  “DEAR STEARNS,—Mr. Ralph Pelham will call upon you in person for five
+  hundred dollars, which please pay him and charge to my account. If
+  necessary, dispose of sufficient stock to cover it. Your voucher will
+  be his receipt.
+
+  “I have reasons for preferring that he should regard this as coming
+  from Mr. Glenham (who would not have to sell), and desire you to
+  consider the affair as strictly confidential.
+
+              “Very truly yours,
+
+                “JOHN G. TRUSCOTT.”
+
+Late that night the ladies had returned from a quiet tea-party at
+Captain Lee’s, Grace and her hostess enthusiastic over the lovely,
+winning ways of Mrs. Tanner, Lady Pelham, to their perplexity,
+maintaining on that subject an attitude of austere, even mysterious
+noncommittalism (for which word the writer desires to apologize). Grace
+had been speedily summoned aloft by her mother, so that when Jack
+entered the parlor only his hostess was there.
+
+“You ought to have been with us,” she said. “Grace Pelham sang, and
+sang sweetly. See here, Jack Truscott, you need not be so sublimely
+indifferent to that young lady. I don’t like it. I warrant you never
+saw many sweeter or brighter girls.”
+
+“I never saw any,” replied he, briefly.
+
+“Then why do you stand aloof, I’d like to know? One would suppose you
+had no appreciation of what was attractive in woman.”
+
+“My dear lady, is there not such a thing as having too much? What sense
+is there in losing one’s head over a girl already bespoken?”
+
+And then it was that his friend gave utterance to the words at the head
+of this chapter.
+
+Overhead he could hear voices in colloquy; one, unmistakably that of
+her ladyship, was so loud and emphatic that an occasional word could be
+distinguished; the other, subdued and gentle, was indistinguishable.
+Evidently, too, the conversation was not placid. Mrs. Pelham’s somewhat
+ponderous tread made the lightly-built army-ceiling quiver and crackle
+as she paced rapidly to and fro.
+
+“What in the world is she storming about to-night?” said the lady.
+“I shall confide to you, Jack, that your colonel’s wife strikes me as
+being a tartar.”
+
+A door overhead opened, closed, tones again became muffled, and Jack
+Truscott and his hostess sat staring in blank amazement in each other’s
+face, for in the brief instant in which the chamber-door had been ajar
+her ladyship’s voice, angry and unguarded, was distinctly audible to
+both,—to all in the house in fact.
+
+“—and Mrs. Tanner is not a fit person for a daughter of mine to——” And
+here, in the language of the Congressional reporter, the hammer fell;
+to be literal, her ladyship banged the door.
+
+For a minute the occupants of the parlor were aghast. Then Truscott
+calmly stepped to the hall-door and closed it.
+
+“She may open the ports and fire another volley,” he said, “and I don’t
+care to hear her, even by accident.”
+
+“Well!” said his companion. “Listeners never hear any good of
+themselves; but I never expected to live to hear evil of Mrs. Tanner.
+She is my ideal of a perfect wife and mother. What do _you_ think?”
+
+“My acquaintance is not extensive,” he replied, deliberately; “but in
+the army or out of it I know of no one truer, purer, or nobler. Now, if
+you will excuse me, I am going to bed. Good-night.”
+
+The next morning Grace did not appear at breakfast. “Had a headache,”
+said her mother in response to inquiries. Soon afterwards, as Truscott
+started forth for a stroll with the doctor, she inquired if he intended
+going to the office, and requested him to post a letter.
+
+“Do you happen to know where Mrs. Treadwell is stationed now, Mr.
+Truscott?” she asked.
+
+“At Fort Hays, I think. Colonel Treadwell was in command there last
+month.”
+
+“Then this address is right,” she remarked, handing him the letter and
+narrowly watching his features.
+
+He glanced at the superscription, bowed in acquiescence, and turned
+away.
+
+As a specimen of feminine ingenuity that letter deserves to take rank.
+This is a chapter of letters thus far. Here is her ladyship’s:
+
+  “MY DEAR MRS. TREADWELL,—Though we have not met for years, I hold
+  in warm remembrance the days when we were stationed together at
+  Sedgwick, and the kindly relations which then existed” (which was
+  more than the recipient of the letter could do, for she could not
+  bear Mrs. Pelham). “I write in haste, and know well that you will
+  be surprised at my writing at all; but duty as a mother compels me
+  to appeal to you for information on a very delicate subject, and I
+  trust you can relieve my mind. You may not have heard that Grace and
+  I have recently ‘joined’ the —th here in Arizona, and naturally I am
+  most anxious that she should be well guided in the selection of her
+  friends and associates.
+
+  “Among the ladies who at first made a most favorable impression was
+  Mrs. Tanner, whom, I am told, you knew well at Camp Phœnix. She
+  seemed everything that was desirable, but I regret to have to say
+  that _circumstances_ have occurred which seriously affect my opinion
+  of her, and among other stories which _late events_ have revived is
+  one that you at Camp Phœnix found her and Mr. Truscott alone in her
+  parlor during Captain Tanner’s absence in the field, and saw them
+  in a most indelicate and questionable a—well, I cannot write what
+  was told me (in the strictest confidence); but knowing you as I do,
+  a woman who never was known to say an unkind or a slanderous thing,
+  it impressed me most painfully and powerfully to be told by ladies
+  whom I believe in that you had positively made this statement. If it
+  be true, I beg you to tell me _exactly_ the truth; for Grace’s sake I
+  _must_ know.
+
+  “The colonel, Captain Tanner, and all the officers are in the field
+  except _Mr. Truscott, who is here, and she also_. You know he is
+  still adjutant of the regiment, and Colonel Pelham must be in utter
+  ignorance of this affair or he would not regard him as he does. Pray
+  do not ask me for any particulars. Simply tell me what you know,
+  and please consider this letter as inviolably confidential. I have
+  no heart to write any news, for this wretched affair fills me with
+  anxiety.
+
+          “Your attached friend,
+
+                “D. DE RUYTER PELHAM.”
+
+And this was the letter Jack Truscott carried over to the office and
+dropped in the mail-box this bright November morning. A fortnight more
+and it was in Mrs. Treadwell’s hands, and a constrained and reluctant
+answer was despatched to Arizona; but long before that reply could
+reach Mrs. Pelham at Sandy it was possible for the very complications
+to occur which she most ardently desired to frustrate. That very night
+there came a despatch from Colonel Pelham pronouncing the road safe and
+practicable, and the next morning Truscott was convoying the ladies of
+Camp Sandy, now reinforced by Mrs. and Miss Pelham, down to the valley
+wherein lay their frontier home. Three large ambulances carried the
+party, a small guard of soldiers went along for appearance’s sake, and
+without event of material importance the journey was safely effected,
+and Grace Pelham made her _début_ at Camp Sandy, little dreaming of
+the months of mingled happiness and serene content, of doubt and utter
+misery, that lay before her.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Without event of material importance, it has been said, the journey
+from Prescott to Sandy was effected. Yet the journey was not devoid of
+interest.
+
+For two or three days previous Mr. Truscott had seen little or nothing
+of Grace Pelham. He had been stunned by the angry words that both
+he and the general’s wife had overheard when Lady Pelham’s door was
+opened for that one brief instant, he had pondered over them that
+night after going to bed, and the more he thought the more his blood
+boiled within him at the idea of this coarse, imperious woman daring
+to speak so shamefully of his gentle little friend. Next morning Grace
+did not appear at all, as we have seen, and it was all Truscott could
+to do to behave with common civility to her ladyship. As for their
+hostess, it must be confessed that she absolutely snubbed Mrs. Pelham
+on two or three occasions, kept out of her way as much as possible,
+and when the time for starting came she kissed Miss Pelham warmly and
+affectionately, begged her to come up and spend the Christmas holidays
+with her, but not a word of invitation did she extend to her mother.
+“Good-day, Mrs. Pelham, I trust you have enjoyed your visit,” was
+all she vouchsafed her ladyship, and that lady readily comprehended
+that she had offended her hostess, and, true to nature, hated her
+accordingly.
+
+Only in company had Truscott met Miss Pelham since that night until
+the morning of their start. Then he suddenly encountered her alone,
+he returning from a visit to the corral to inspect the condition of
+the ambulances that were to convey the party to Sandy, she from the
+infantry quarters on the other side of the garrison, whither she had
+been to say good-by to a baby pet of hers, the daughter of one of the
+officers here stationed.
+
+Truscott greeted her cordially and complimented her upon such very
+early rising. Her reply was a nervous and embarrassed platitude, and
+she hurried along with bent head and downcast eyes up the very path
+which she and Glenham had taken the night of the “Pelham Ball.” All her
+old frank, bright manner had disappeared; she would not even look at
+him. Stung to the quick by her evident wish to avoid him, he presently
+raised his forage-cap, and turning at a side-path, said,—
+
+“Pardon my not escorting you home, Miss Pelham; there are some matters
+I must arrange before we can start.”
+
+Then for an instant her eyes met his, she faltered when she marked the
+pain and surprise in his face. She almost held out her hand to him, but
+as though suddenly recollecting herself, simply bowed, said in a low
+tone something that sounded like “Good-b—morning, Mr.——” and scurried
+away up the path like a frightened fawn. With a sadder brow than we
+have yet seen in Truscott he turned aside, and by a circuitous route
+regained the house, where he found them all at an early breakfast.
+
+Half an hour afterwards and they were off. Mrs. and Miss Pelham and
+her ladyship’s homesick maid occupying one ambulance, Mesdames Turner,
+Raymond, and Wilkins another, while Mrs. Tanner with Rosalie and one of
+the young ladies from Sandy were bestowed in a third,—Captain Tanner’s
+own; for Tanner was a man of substance, and had money enough to buy out
+the rest of the regiment, Glenham perhaps excepted. A fourth ambulance
+contained a small guard of infantry-men, while two or three trailers,
+left behind in the rush for the Apaches, the mail messenger, and two
+scouts, who had come in with despatches, accompanied the party as
+escort.
+
+Amid the fluttering of handkerchiefs and cheery _au revoirs_ the party
+rattled off, cracking whips and whistling drivers sending the lively
+little mule-teams along at a spanking gait. Truscott paused one moment
+to hold out both hands to his kind hostess and with something of a
+tremor in his voice to say farewell. She looked up in his face and
+seized the outstretched hands,—“Jack, don’t you worry. _It’ll come out
+all right yet, and I know it._” He turned quickly, mounted his horse,
+and, with a wave of the hand, cantered off down the slope after his
+convoy.
+
+The journey to the Agua Fria was accomplished without incident.
+It was a dismal party that rode in her ladyship’s vehicle. She
+was in execrable humor herself, ready to snap at anybody. As a
+consequence Grace sat silently and wistfully gazing out on the
+pine-covered heights, the maid was in tears most of the way, and Lady
+Pelham, echoing the sniffling from the front seat, sniffed at her
+smelling-salts, and finally inquired for the sherry-flask. Twice or
+thrice at difficult parts of the road Grace saw Truscott, seated on his
+horse, cautioning the driver of each ambulance as in turn they came to
+the spot, but ordinarily he was well to the front, and only at sharp
+curves of the road could she catch sight of him, the guard ambulance
+being just in front of them. Then she looked with all her eyes, for
+well as he looked at all times it was in the saddle Jack Truscott was
+at his best. She worshipped fine horsemanship, and never had she seen
+anything to equal the grace and ease of Truscott’s. Half angry at
+herself, she yet could not withstand the fascination that kept her gaze
+fixed upon him at every opportunity.
+
+Before the sun reached the meridian Truscott conducted his train
+into the court of Olson’s ranch, and politely notified her ladyship
+that here they would rest an hour and then push on. The ladies were
+assisted from the ambulances, and were welcomed with much red-faced
+embarrassment by Mrs. Olson, who showed them into her best rooms. The
+ladies of the —th she knew well. They had often stopped with her, but
+the stony grandeur with which her ladyship glared around the bare walls
+and rude furniture, sniffing at everything, overawed and upset her
+completely. None the less did she hasten to sacrifice her pet chickens
+and produce the freshest eggs, in order that the ladies who were so
+grand in her eyes might be regaled with the best her larder could
+command.
+
+Something like twenty minutes had the ladies been resting and chatting
+among themselves when Truscott came striding up from the corrals,
+whither he had been to superintend the refreshment of his horses and
+mules. Seeing him approach, Mrs. Tanner quietly laid her sleeping
+Rosalie upon the bed, rose and went out to meet him. Two or three
+of the ladies exchanged glances, then looked at Mrs. Pelham. Taking
+Truscott’s arm, Mrs. Tanner walked with him slowly through the
+ranch-yard, past the corrals, and, with the eyes of every woman in
+the party except Grace’s upon them, they strolled up the bank of the
+stream, and were soon out of sight from the windows.
+
+“Come with me a moment,” said Mrs. Pelham, abruptly, to her daughter,
+who rose without a word and followed her mother out into the court and
+around the corner. The elder lady silently pointed up the stream, and
+Grace, looking, beheld Mrs. Tanner leaning on Truscott’s arm, and both
+of them, some three hundred yards away, were walking farther. Another
+moment and they disappeared from sight around a little knoll.
+
+Then Lady Pelham slowly turned, and impressively the words fell from
+her lips, “Grace, what did I tell you?”
+
+When, half an hour later, Jack Truscott extended his hand to assist
+Miss Pelham to her seat in the ambulance, as he had been assisting the
+others, she passed it without notice, seized the door frames with both
+hands, and with the agile spring of the mountain deer popped up into
+her place. Truscott calmly closed and fastened the door, nodded to the
+driver, and away went the Pelham equipage.
+
+The sun was setting behind the great range to the west, and the
+ambulances had halted for a moment at a point where the road wound
+around a precipitous ledge, when Truscott rode up to the door of the
+Pelham equipage, and, pointing far down in the valley below and some
+miles to the south, quietly remarked, “Mrs. Pelham, there is Camp
+Sandy,” then rode on to the head of column. Eagerly gazing, Grace could
+see rows of what looked like toy-houses painted a dismal brown, but
+Mrs. Pelham was cross and tired, and the sherry had been a little too
+strong or too frequent, or both, she did not care to look. An hour
+more and Grace was in her father’s arms, while her gracious mother was
+turning up her nose at the parlor furniture. Soon afterwards, Grace,
+delightedly examining her own dainty little room, heard her father’s
+voice hailing from the piazza below,—
+
+“Truscott! oh, Truscott! that you?”
+
+A voice from the darkness out on the parade replied,—
+
+“Yes, colonel.”
+
+And Grace stood still—yes—to listen.
+
+“Been to dinner or supper yet?”
+
+“Not yet, sir; I’ve had several things to attend to.”
+
+“Then come and take high tea with us.”
+
+“I would with pleasure, sir, but—I’ve promised Mrs. Tanner.”
+
+A tap at Grace’s door, and her ladyship swept in.
+
+“You heard that, I suppose. How much confirmation do you require, may I
+ask?”
+
+And all that evening Grace Pelham was feverishly gay.
+
+The general, it seems, had gone out into the Mogollon after the
+troops; he had spent a day at the agency with Tanner, and then, on his
+renowned saddle-mule, had struck eastward for the trail leading to the
+Colorado Chiquito. Every hour the renegades were sneaking back into
+their limits, and the next day were begging around camp as persistently
+as ever and with that childlike expression of innocence and utter
+lack of guile in which the Apache excels. In the brief conversation
+Colonel Pelham had enjoyed with Truscott after tea, when the latter had
+betaken himself to the office and was working away by candle-light,
+the adjutant learned that the entire command was on its way back,
+having had only one or two unimportant brushes with the Indians, who
+had scattered all over the Territory on finding themselves pursued by
+so large a force. Then the colonel went back to his quarters to enjoy
+the unaccustomed luxury of the society of his wife and daughter; but
+Truscott remained at his desk “straightening out” the regimental papers
+until long after midnight. Grace Pelham, going to her room after a
+long, loving talk with her father, had thrown open her window and stood
+there gazing out into the starlit night. Way across the dark parade
+she saw towards her right the dim lights of the guard-house. She knew
+it to be such, because, even as she gazed, there came from that point
+the prolonged call of the sentry, “Nu-mber One. Ha-lf pa-st twelve
+o’clock.” Then way beyond, over towards the corrals, a shrill Hibernian
+tenor responded for Number Two, and added, “A-a-ll’s w-ell!” and so the
+watch-call went the rounds, echoing back from the foot-hills until it
+again reached the guard-house. Grace thought it lovely. But what was
+that brilliant light off to her left? She could make out the outlines
+of a low one-story building that seemed to stand by itself, and from
+two windows broad beams of light streamed forth and illuminated the
+parade. Hearing her father’s step on the stairway, she called him in.
+“I’m so interested in it all, father; the sentries have just been
+calling off. Now that’s the guard-house over there; but what is this
+bright light here to the left?”
+
+The colonel peered over her shoulder. “That! It’s the adjutant’s
+office, and that confounded Jack Truscott is sitting up there at work
+when, with his shoulder, he ought to have been in bed long ago. By
+Jove, I’ll go and send him!”
+
+Then he turned, took her in his arms, and looked proudly, fondly, down
+into the sweet upraised face.
+
+“I wonder if you dream, my little girl, what a joy it is to your old
+father to have you here? God bless and guard you, my child!” With that
+he kissed tenderly her white forehead, and the next minute she heard
+him tramping across the parade to the office. She was about to close
+her blind, when the sound of hoof-beats and voices coming into the
+garrison from the north attracted her attention. At rapid lope the
+riders came, and in a moment flashed into view in the lights from the
+adjutant’s office. Then came her father’s cheery voice,—
+
+“Why, Ray, is that you? You, too, Glenham? Welcome back, boys!”
+
+Then she heard Truscott’s deep baritone and Ray’s and Glenham’s mingled
+greetings, and the “old fellows” and hearty slaps on back and shoulder
+with which the comrades of the frontier are wont to welcome one
+another; and then she did close her blind, and for a while sat there
+in the darkness thinking, thinking.
+
+Two days more and the entire command was once more in garrison. Rough,
+stubbly beards were shaven off, ragged hair trimmed to soldier style,
+scouting-rigs were stowed away, and on the following Sunday morning
+six fine troops of the —th formed line, mounted and in full dress, for
+inspection. The band, too, had returned from a visit to the southern
+posts of the Territory, and for three days the rank and file had been
+cleaning, polishing, and scrubbing generally, for “Old Catnip” was a
+stickler for drill, discipline, and neatness in every particular.
+
+Much of the time the officers had been occupied superintending the
+overhauling of the barracks and stables, but such hours as Captain
+Canker would allow him Arthur Glenham had spent at Grace’s side. _Was_
+it hope that fathered the thought, he wondered, or was she really more
+gracious, more encouraging in her manner towards him? Mrs. Pelham was
+everything that was delightful to him, inviting him there to tea,
+affording him frequent opportunity for uninterrupted interviews with
+Grace, and eagerly inquiring how soon Ranger would be ready for the
+promised rides. Tanner, too, had come in with his troop, and Ranger had
+been duly inspected and delightedly praised by Grace, but the captain
+preferred that she should not ride until after the general inspection.
+Of Truscott the ladies at Colonel Pelham’s saw nothing except at a
+distance. He spent all his time at the office, and in going thither or
+returning to his quarters kept way out in the middle of the parade,
+for he lived at the extreme northern end of officers’ row, and the
+colonel’s house was at the other end. Officers old and young and all
+the ladies had called to welcome the Pelhams to Sandy, but just as at
+Prescott, when Ray, Hunter and other ineligibles attempted to converse
+to any length with Grace, the “confounded old tabby” would swoop down
+upon them and monopolize the talk herself.
+
+Oh, how superb the sight was to Grace when, early Sunday morning, the
+whole command appeared in full uniform, the martial-looking helmets
+with their long horse-hair plumes, the bright colors of the stripes
+and facings, the blue and gold and glittering sabres of the officers,
+and the handsome equipments of their steeds! She stood on the piazza
+watching it all,—officer after officer mounting in front of his
+quarters and trotting off to join his troop. (Of course, Glenham came
+down the line to exhibit himself and his beautiful horse to her before
+joining his captain.) Then the four stately non-commissioned officers,
+the guard of the standard, each with his war chevrons and his bronze
+medal for bravery, rode up in line and received their charge from
+her father’s hands. Then came the stirring adjutant’s call, and the
+thrilling burst of martial music from the band, and troop after troop
+rode steadily into line; and then from the right there came at full
+gallop a stalwart form she had grown to recognize instantly in any
+dress. The horsemanship was unmistakable, and still at full gallop on
+his powerful black charger he darted out to the front until midway to
+where the colonel sat on old “Rappahannock,” when with sudden halt
+and wheel he reined about, and at the deep, ringing baritone, that
+resounded along the line, the sabres flashed in air, and, again
+wheeling, his own sabre rose and was lowered in graceful salute. Grace
+Pelham gazed with all her eyes, eagerly interested in everything,
+but then the ladies who had seen that sort of thing a hundred times
+gathered around her, and she saw no more of the ceremony that so
+delighted her.
+
+Disappointed as she was at the interruption of her view of the
+inspection, Grace found it hard work to be cordial and courteous to her
+visitors. Ordinarily on each occasions the ladies swarmed about Captain
+Turner’s quarters, which, bring opposite the centre of the line when
+formed, afforded the best point of observation. Mrs. Turner with great
+self-complacency used to attribute this gathering to her powers of
+entertainment and conversation, and talked and chattered like a magpie;
+but on this particular Sunday, seeing Grace alone on the piazza of the
+commanding officer’s house, the meeting adjourned and proceeded _en
+masse_ to entertain her with garrison platitudes, Mrs. Wilkins being by
+no means the least voluble. As a consequence, when the jovial colonel
+rode up to the piazza after the dismissal of the command, his face all
+aglow with the unaccustomed exercise, and called out in his cheery
+way, “Well, daughter, what do you think of the —th?” she replied, with
+an air of serio-comic disappointment, “I could see nothing of them,
+father, except (_sotto voce_) the ladies.”
+
+“Confound those women!” growled the colonel. “I might have known they
+would spoil the whole thing, and I particularly wanted you to see the
+regiment. Your mother isn’t visible yet, I suppose. She never did care
+for anything connected with my profession except the pay accounts,”
+he added to himself, with a weary sigh. Then he and Grace went in to
+breakfast.
+
+Late that afternoon two grimy-looking, shaggy-bearded men, accompanied
+by Mr. Truscott, appeared at the colonel’s door, and were promptly
+ushered into the parlor, where Lady Pelham was yawning over a novel
+(for which the writer of this gives her full absolution) and her
+husband was snoozing on the lounge with a handkerchief over his face.
+In response to Truscott’s courteous bow, her ladyship rose from her
+chair, stared for an instant at the uncouth-looking bipeds who stood
+uneasily at the door, then, with an indignant “Well, I declare!” and
+without noticing Truscott in the least, she swept majestically into the
+adjoining room, slamming the door behind her.
+
+The colonel woke with a start, and for an instant gazed stupidly at his
+visitors.
+
+“What’s up, Truscott?” he asked.
+
+“Fanshawe and Craig have come in to report, sir; they bring important
+news,” replied the adjutant.
+
+“Fanshawe, hey! Craig, too! Good! Sit down, boys. What news do you
+bring?”
+
+The taller of the two cleared his throat, while the other, “his
+pardner,” slowly twisted his old slouch hat in his hands and looked
+to his senior to do the talking. Wiping his face with a faded
+red bandanna, then stowing it away in the breast of his buckskin
+hunting-shirt, Fanshawe, with a voice like a cracked bassoon, began.
+
+“We’ve treed ’em, colonel. There’s three big rancherias out yet. We
+follered ’em down from nigh Chevlon’s butte into the Tonto basin.
+There’s two on ’em there somewhere, close in under the Black Mesa, nigh
+the head o’ the creek. The other band cut loose and seemed to go over
+to the Chiquito. Craig and I wanted to go in farther and find just
+where they were, but old Kwonahelka and Charley,—Washington Charley,
+you know, colonel; Araháwa ’s his ’Patchie name,—they dasn’t resk it;
+so we come back. If the gin’ral will send out a couple of troops now,
+with fifteen days’ rations and ’Patchie-Mohave scouts, I reckon he can
+gobble the Tonto basin crowd, and it’ll only take a small detachment to
+corral the outfit that slid out over towards the Chiquito; there can’t
+be more’n forty bucks among ’em.”
+
+“Where are Kwonahelka and Charley?” asked the colonel, after a moment’s
+thought.
+
+“Right outside, sir,” said Fanshawe. “We didn’t like to bring ’em in.”
+
+The colonel nodded to Truscott, who quickly stepped into the hall and
+signed to the two Apache Indians squatting on the piazza. They silently
+rose and entered the house.
+
+An exclamation of “Goodness!” caused Truscott to glance to the head
+of the stairs. There stood Grace, her eyes opened in wonderment “What
+strange creatures are those, Mr. Truscott?” she asked.
+
+“Apache scouts, Miss Pelham.”
+
+“Oh, _may_ I come down and see them?”
+
+“Most assuredly,” he answered.
+
+So down she came, pausing irresolutely at the door until her father,
+catching sight of her, called out, “Come in, come in, Grace. You’ve
+never seen our Apaches. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to Fanshawe
+and partner, “this is my daughter, just arrived in Arizona.” Whereat
+Fanshawe and partner arose in bewilderment and awkwardness and bobbed
+their heads, and grew redder under the bronze which desert suns and
+winds had painted on their faces.
+
+Grace bowed and smiled a pleasant welcome, not knowing what to call
+them, and being quite uncertain as to whether she ought to shake hands
+or not.
+
+“This will all interest Grace,” said her father, at once. “Truscott,
+you explain the situation to her. Now I want to question these
+aborigines.”
+
+And so, despite herself, Grace was thrown into confidential relations
+with the man she had been trying to avoid, and yet—and yet—whom she had
+caught herself watching from her window, or gazing over at the midnight
+lights in his office, a dozen times in the last four days.
+
+She colored, then turned and became absorbed in contemplation of
+the Indians, strange objects indeed to her. Their swarthy features,
+glittering, bead-like eyes; their coarse, matted black hair, for
+all the world like a Shetland pony’s mane and forelock, falling in
+masses like an immense “bang” over their foreheads and down to the
+eyes in front, hanging in tangled clumps to the neck behind; their
+slender but sinewy legs and arms; their rude dress,—not an ornament
+or a patch of paint, things she supposed inseparable from the red
+warriors, no gracefully-draped blanket, no eagle’s-feather war-bonnet,
+none of the accessories she had supposed were always to be seen with
+the Indians. But here were two noted men of their tribes,—Kwonahelka,
+a chief of the Apache-Mohaves; Araháwa, sub-chief and interpreter
+of the Apache-Yumas,—and dirty white cotton turbans, shirts, and
+breech-clouts, with substantial moccasins, constituted their costume.
+
+Araháwa had once been taken to Washington,—hence his nickname,—and
+having been kept some time at San Francisco, had picked up a little
+English, not unlike the “pidgin-English” of the Chinese. It was
+“Charley” whom the colonel was now questioning.
+
+“But what I want to know is, whose bands are these down in the basin?”
+said he, impatiently.
+
+“Mebbe so Deltchay; mebbe so ’Skiminzin; no can tell,” replied Charley,
+volubly.
+
+“Ask Kwonahelka; he knows,” said Fanshawe. So Charley and his associate
+held a brief confab, in which much gesticulation was used on both
+sides. Finally Charley turned.
+
+“Kwonahelka he say ’Skeltetsee by Mogeyone. ’Skeltetsee got plenty
+Tonto.”
+
+And so the strange colloquy went on, and Grace, her curiosity getting
+the better of her reserve, finally turned to the silent soldier by her
+side and inquired, “What _does_ it all mean, Mr. Truscott?”
+
+“Briefly this,” he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed on Charley.
+“There are still some hostile Apaches scattered over the country to
+the east of us, and these scouts were sent to discover their lair if
+possible. They have succeeded in tracing three of the bands, and have
+come in to report.”
+
+“And what will be done now?” she anxiously inquired.
+
+“Their report will be telegraphed to the general at Prescott, and then,
+probably, scouting-parties will be sent from here to hunt them to their
+holes and fight it out.”
+
+Grace’s face paled visibly. She was about to speak, when Glenham
+entered the room, and, barely glancing at the others, addressed himself
+to her,—
+
+“Everything is ready now, Miss Gracie. Tanner has given me Ranger. Will
+you ride with me to-morrow?”
+
+And as she answered, “Gladly, Mr. Glenham,” a close observer could have
+seen a contraction of the brows and a twitch of the muscles about Jack
+Truscott’s stern, set mouth, but his eyes were fixed upon his colonel’s
+face.
+
+A moment more and that gentleman rose. “Well, that settles it,” he
+said. “Come to the office, Truscott, and bring them along.” And so
+Grace and Glenham were left alone.
+
+That evening the colonel sent his orderly with his compliments to
+Captain Canker, and the information that he, Canker, should command
+at dress-parade. And taking Grace’s arm in his as the adjutant’s call
+sounded, and the companies came marching out to the line dismounted,
+he strode up beyond Turner’s quarters, grimly declining the dozen
+invitations to “come and sit down on our piazza,” and led his daughter
+out beyond the chattering groups to a point in the parade whence
+she could witness the ceremony undisturbed. She gazed with pride
+and delight at the long solid line, the six companies standing at
+parade-rest as the band—a glorious band the old —th had in those
+days—“trooped” down the front and back to its place on the right. Then
+came the stirring “retreat” upon the trumpets, the roar of the evening
+gun, the fluttering folds of the great garrison flag to the ground as
+though its halliards were shot away; and then from the distant flank
+the same deep, glorious voice rang along the line, and the tall,
+soldierly form came stalking out to the front. She could not take her
+eyes off him, but watched his every movement,—quick, agile, yet erect
+and stately. She marked the vehement contrast between his rich voice
+and Canker’s reedy twang as the latter put the battalion through the
+manual; but when the officers closed on the centre, and some sixteen of
+them came marching to the front to the stirring music of “_En Avant_,”
+and as one man saluted the commanding officer, she could not but see
+that in stature, carriage, grace, and dignity there was not his peer
+among them.
+
+“Grace,” said her father suddenly, “I’ve got the finest adjutant in the
+United States army, and he is as noble a man as he is a soldier.” She
+looked up in surprise, for his voice trembled, and tears had started
+to his eyes. He had received a letter that day from Ralph and had not
+shown it to them, but he struck his cane sharply upon the stony ground,
+tossed his head, and was all joviality when, as though with one accord,
+the officers came crowding around Grace to welcome her to her first
+parade. All but one; Truscott went straight to his quarters.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Soon after guard-mounting on the following morning, Arthur Glenham,
+faultlessly attired, cantered down officers’ row to Colonel Pelham’s
+quarters, dismounted and gave his horse to the orderly. Almost at the
+same moment Captain Tanner’s pigmy trumpeter appeared with Ranger, and
+it needed but half a glance to detect the fact that in that precious
+pair, boy and horse, the devil of mischief was abnormally developed.
+“Kid,” as the boy was called by the entire command, had a rollicking
+Irish eye that twinkled with fun. Ranger was similarly provided with
+organs of sight that rolled restlessly about in their sockets, while
+his nervous legs and pawing hoofs, his incessantly tossing head, gave
+conclusive evidence that he was ripe for any devilment that chance
+might afford him. The Kid rolled off the bare back of his pet and
+saluted Glenham, with a half-suppressed grin on his freckled “mug.”
+I crave pardon for the slang, but “face” could never apply to the
+broad, flattened mouth, the turned-up, utterly Hibernian nose, and
+the shock-headed appearance generally of the worst young scamp in the
+—th. His colonel, his captain, and the adjutant were the only men in
+the garrison to whom the Kid looked up with anything like awe, or even
+with great respect, and as he rolled his quid of tobacco over with his
+tongue and “stood to horse” as he grinningly saluted Mr. Glenham,
+he presented small show of that deference expected from the rank and
+file towards a superior; perhaps he was thinking of the many five- and
+ten-dollar bills with which the lieutenant had accommodated him, and
+what an ass the lieutenant must be if he ever expected to get them back.
+
+Grace had accepted the invitation to ride about five o’clock on the
+previous afternoon. Before tattoo, consequently, every lady along
+the row was duly informed of the fact, and as a matter of course all
+household duties were suspended as the horses came up, in order that
+the ladies aforesaid might see the mount and start. Even Mrs. Tanner
+was taking the air on her piazza, which was only two doors away from
+the colonel’s, and Mesdames Raymond, Turner, and Wilkins had gathered
+around Mrs. Canker, who lived next door, and who was not ordinarily
+one of the society circle at the post,—a retiring disposition, an
+absolute indifference to anything or anybody except her husband and
+children, and rather plain, homely ways, rendering her “Well,—rather
+uninteresting, you know,” as Mrs. Turner put it. A knot of officers had
+gathered some distance farther away.
+
+Presently Grace appeared upon the colonel’s piazza, and all eyes far
+and near were fixed upon her. “Heavens and earth!” exclaimed Mrs.
+Wilkins, “a chimney-pot hat in Arizona!”
+
+In Arizona or out of it, ’twould be hard to find a lovelier picture
+than was Grace Pelham that morning. The short, jaunty silk hat with
+its mite of a veil, the stylish, perfectly-fitting New York habit, the
+dainty gauntlets, all combining to make a costume that set off her
+exquisite face and slender form to admirable advantage. After her came
+a servant carrying her English saddle and bridle, which had arrived but
+a day or two before. And now came the onerous task of equipping Ranger.
+Grace could not bear the looks of the heavy, clumsy cavalry bit and
+bridle, and had decided to use her own from the start.
+
+“Please have this put on him first, Mr. Glenham,” she said. And
+obedient to her wish he took the dainty tan-colored bridle with its
+burnished steel bit and chains and signalled to the Kid to slip off
+Ranger’s uncouth-looking head-gear, and then proceeded himself to
+replace it with the other. It is one thing to slip off a bridle,
+another to put one on. Ranger, accustomed only to the dingy regulation
+deformity, snorted suspiciously at the brilliant and novel-looking
+affair that Mr. Glenham was cautiously raising towards him; he eyed it
+askance, and then, notwithstanding the firm hold of the young officer’s
+broad hand upon his forelock, Ranger threw up his head. This brought
+Glenham on tiptoe, increasing his difficulties and vexation.
+
+“Come here, trumpeter,” he called, “and hold his head down while I get
+the bridle on.”
+
+The Kid darted forward with unusual alacrity, and simultaneously Ranger
+started and commenced to back, dragging Glenham with him. The more
+rapidly the Kid approached the more did Ranger recede. The Kid made a
+spring as though to catch him, Ranger made a corresponding jump, shook
+free his head, then, with a most hilarious leap into mid-air, he let
+drive his heels at some imaginary foe, and, with a snort of malicious
+delight, dashed off around the parade, leaving Glenham puffing,
+blowing, and discomfited, and the Kid grinning in malignant enjoyment
+of the catastrophe.
+
+Poor Glenham! He ran back to the piazza, dropped the bridle at Grace’s
+feet, and saying, “Please don’t be impatient; I’ll have him back in a
+minute,” clambered into his saddle, and, striking both spurs into his
+horse, went sputtering off in pursuit.
+
+The neighboring ladies instantly came to condole with Grace; the group
+of officers remained as they were, and, after the manner of their
+kind, indulging in hearty and pitiless laughter at poor Glenham’s
+discomfiture, except Ray. Ray came running down to the party, now
+gathered on the colonel’s piazza, and laughingly raising his cap
+to Grace, exclaimed, “Never mind, Miss Pelham, we’ll soon have him
+back,” then he turned on the Kid, who, with his hands in his pockets,
+was bending nearly double in the contortions he resorted to to keep
+him from roaring with laughter. But the look in the lieutenant’s eye
+straightened him up in an instant. Out went the quid; out came the
+hands; together came the heels with a snap, and with a half-scared and
+demure countenance the Kid “stood attention.”
+
+Ray stepped close to the youngster, and in a low, savage tone spoke
+quickly, “You young whelp, you know perfectly well you drove that horse
+loose. Go at once to my sergeant, tell him to send two men out after
+Ranger, and you bring me my horse bareback quick as a flash. Off with
+you now!”
+
+And the Kid, well knowing Mr. Ray’s energetic way of dealing with his
+own black sheep, darted off full speed.
+
+Meantime, Mr. Truscott was in his quarters at the other end of the row,
+changing from the full-dress uniform he wore at guard-mounting to the
+“undress” of the day. He was never known to whistle in his life, but he
+had a way of singing softly to himself as he dressed, sometimes as he
+wrote or worked, but of late no song had escaped his lips. To Glenham
+his manner had been more gentle and brotherly than ever, but there was
+none of the old familiar talk between them. Glenham spent his evenings
+at the colonel’s, came home late, and found Jack in bed and, to all
+appearances, asleep, while during the day the latter was always at the
+office.
+
+Very sad and pale looked Mr. Truscott as he slipped into his sack-coat;
+then the rush of hoofs burst upon his ear, and with a face suddenly
+blanched he sprang to the door. A sigh of relief, a fervent “Thank
+God!” escaped him as he caught sight of Ranger, unencumbered with
+either saddle or bridle, tearing out of the north gate, while Glenham
+came lumbering after.
+
+“That d—d young Paddy scared him off!” he almost sobbed to Jack as he
+thundered by. Quickly mounting his own great charger, who was pulling
+excitedly away from the orderly, Truscott soon overtook Glenham down on
+the flats below. Ranger still far ahead and making for the foot-hills,
+where the herds were grazed during the day.
+
+“He’ll go right up that broad cooley, Glenham. You take this one to
+the left. I’ll chase and drive him over towards you, then head him in
+towards the post, and we’ll nab him at the stables.”
+
+With that he was off: his fresh, magnificent horse sweeping way out
+to the right _beyond_ Ranger’s trail, and Glenham, implicitly obeying
+Jack’s directions, plunged into the mouth of the narrow valley or
+ravine before him, and still urging his steed to his best efforts, was
+soon separated by the ridge to his right from all sight of the chase.
+
+By this time Ranger, finding himself no longer closely pursued as he
+was in the garrison, condescended to hold up for a minute and look back
+on his trail. The horse and rider with whom he had been delightedly
+playing fast and loose for some five minutes had disappeared entirely,
+and that big black horse he had been so accustomed to following on
+battalion drill and the tall rider at whose voice he daily wheeled
+into column without waiting for pressure of leg or rein from his own
+little rascal of a rider,—why, _they_ were riding _away_ from him! And
+genuine equine surprise and disappointment he gazed after them. It
+was more than he could stand, and in another moment, with a piteous
+neigh, he galloped off in pursuit. This being precisely what Truscott
+expected, he slackened his pace and reigned slightly to the left; next
+he dove into a little ravine, and here dismounting and drawing the
+reins over his horse’s head, he calmly lay down on the turf, and his
+steed went to cropping the scant herbage. A minute more and Ranger,
+with another eager neigh, reached the bank, and catching sight of his
+comrades, stopped short, then gingerly trotted down close to them,
+as though to inquire what the mischief they meant by trying to avoid
+him in that unfriendly way. Then, as neither Truscott nor his horse
+took the faintest notice of him, he lounged up alongside his brother
+quadruped and, sniffing for a moment at his nostrils, set his ears
+back and aimed a vicious little snap at his nose. With his back to the
+pair, Truscott slowly and indifferently arose, and, drawing in his
+rein, raised the black’s head and brought him close to his right side,
+quietly patting his head and neck. Ranger followed as before, bent
+his head to sniff again at the nostrils of the black, and found his
+forelock held in the iron grasp of the half-concealed biped, who had
+reached quietly over the black’s neck and nabbed him.
+
+Then Truscott mounted, and, firmly holding his prize on the off side,
+rode slowly back towards the garrison. One of Ray’s men with a lariat
+met him half-way in. Truscott knotted the rope carefully about Ranger’s
+neck, sent the man up the ravine to recall Glenham, and continued on
+his way until close in under the plateau. There he stopped and waited
+for his friend. He could have saved time, and a good deal of it, had
+he galloped in, leading Ranger by the lariat, but he waited. Glenham
+came bumping along presently, all gratitude and perspiration. Truscott
+handed him the rope, saying, “Hold him firmly, old boy.” Glenham rode
+up the hill and, amid the applause of the ladies, into the garrison
+with his prize. Truscott rode under cover of the hill to the rear of
+his quarters, and there dismounted.
+
+Nearly half an hour had been lost. Glenham was nervous and full of
+vexation. Grace too was a trifle annoyed by the half-patronizing,
+half-sympathetic remarks of the swarm of ladies, but their occasional
+criticisms of Glenham’s awkwardness aroused her sympathy for him, and
+made her unusually gentle, almost tender, in her manner to him. The
+deft hands of Mr. Ray speedily adjusted saddle and bridle, and he
+obligingly stood at Ranger’s head while Glenham bunglingly assisted
+Grace to mount. With any skilful hand she could fly up like a bird.
+Then, without further delay, they turned and started up the row, Grace
+patting Ranger’s neck and endeavoring to make friends.
+
+But that ingenuous quadruped had not half had his spree out, and was
+ripe for more. The first thing he discovered was that instead of a
+huge bar of crooked iron in his mouth he was champing a slender rod of
+polished steel. No clumsy curb-strap chafed his jaw, and the light hand
+on the rein had not yet made him acquainted with the glittering chain
+that hung there, ready to do as good, even better, service than the
+strap. Then there was no pressure of muscular legs on both sides; that
+struck him as something utterly out of the usual line. Revolving these
+things in his mind, he concluded it worth while to experiment with this
+unknown rider. They were close to the end of the row, and here, right
+in front of the doctor’s quarters, next to Truscott’s, stood a group of
+six or seven officers. Six or seven caps were simultaneously raised,
+and that was all the excuse Ranger wanted. Stopping short, he strove to
+whirl about, but Grace’s practised hand kept him faced to the front.
+Failing in that effort, he commenced to back, and a sharp cut of the
+whip was his reward. Stung by the blow, he sprang into air and came
+down “stiff-legged,” but with no effect upon the seat or temper of his
+fair rider. Then he backed again, and received another lash. Enraged
+at a punishment he neither understood nor had ever known, he shook his
+head, backed again, and would almost have gone upon his haunches, when
+suddenly a firm hand was laid on the rein, and Grace, flushed, vexed,
+and wellnigh defeated, looked down into the calm features of Mr.
+Truscott.
+
+“Pardon me, Miss Pelham,” he said. “I think I have just what you need
+here. Ranger doesn’t know a whip, but he _does_ understand the meaning
+of the spur.”
+
+With that he produced from the inner pocket of his blouse a pair of
+little silver spurs. “These look like toys,” he continued, “and I
+bought them as such, but they are really very effective, as you will
+find. Stand at his head, orderly. Permit me, Miss Pelham.” And stepping
+to her side he raised the skirt of her riding-habit, quickly and deftly
+adjusted one spur to her slender boot, then hung the other on the
+off-side of her pommel. “The straps are old and weak, and may break, so
+you had better have both,” he explained, then was about to step back,
+when speech returned to her.
+
+“Oh, _thank_ you, Mr. Truscott, ever so much! Now I _know_ I can manage
+him. This is very thoughtful of you, and I’ll return them to-night.”
+
+“Don’t think of it,” he answered; “you will need them on many a ride,
+and besides, I know you will win them.”
+
+“Then take my whip,” she impulsively cried, and tossing the slender toy
+with its wrist-loop of dark blue ribbon to him, she gathered her horse,
+the orderly stepped aside, her barbed heel drove firmly into Ranger’s
+flank, and, obedient to the sting he knew, he sprang forward, and in an
+instant bore his fearless rider, guided by her firm hands, through the
+north gate, around the long curve of the road and down the slope until
+even hat and veil disappeared from view below the edge of the plateau.
+An instant after, Glenham likewise shot out of sight, his forage-cap
+popping up twice before its final occultation.
+
+Truscott’s face wore a very anxious look as he slowly returned to his
+quarters, closed his bedroom door behind him, and, stepping to the
+window, lingeringly examined the pretty toy she had thrown to him.
+It was of English make, slender and delicate, but of the very best
+material and workmanship, fit accompaniment to the perfect saddle and
+bridle his appreciative eye had marked as he adjusted her spur. The
+silver-mounted handle bore a simple inscription, “Grace, from Father.”
+He gazed longingly at the name, thinking, he could not help it, of the
+many times her soft, slender hand had closed upon it; then suddenly
+turning, he stepped to the wardrobe, paused one instant to press the
+handle to his lips, hung it by its loop way back in the dark recess,
+and abruptly hurried from the room.
+
+On the piazza stood Ray, with clouded brow, gazing through a binocular
+up the distant road. Hearing Truscott’s step, he turned.
+
+“See anything of them?” asked Truscott, shortly.
+
+“Not at this moment. They’re behind that belt of cottonwood, going
+like blazes. There they are now!” he added, suddenly. “I hope to God
+that Glenham will have sense enough to make her stick to the road. The
+horses can’t stand the pace much longer in that heavy sand.”
+
+Truscott took the glass and looked. “All right so far,” he said, after
+a pause, still keeping the glass at his eye.
+
+“Truscott, what do you think of that bit?” asked Ray, abruptly. “She
+rides better than any woman I ever knew; but if that blackguard of
+a horse should bolt—you see I never thought of her riding him with
+anything but the cavalry curb.”
+
+“Nor I,” said Truscott. “The bit is all right; unless—you remember the
+trick he used to have of catching the branch in his teeth?”
+
+“By heaven! yes. And with these straight English curbs he could do it
+as easy as lying.”
+
+Truscott took out his watch, and with a start exclaimed, “I ought to
+have been at the office half an hour ago, and here comes the colonel’s
+orderly after me now. Ray, what are you going to do this morning?”
+
+“I was going to write up the record of that last court, but d—d if I
+can now. Going out Ranger will do well enough, probably. It’s when
+he gets his head turned homewards that stampedes me. If he _should_
+bolt above the bend, where the road runs along the creek, why, it’s as
+crooked as Oakes Ames, and he’d dash over some of those banks——”
+
+“Take your horse,” broke in Truscott,—“take your horse and go out
+beyond the four-mile bend anyhow. Yes, orderly, say to the colonel I’m
+coming at once.”
+
+Five minutes after Ray was speeding up the valley, and Truscott was at
+his desk in the office. To his colonel’s surprised and almost hurt “You
+are very late, Truscott,” he replied very gently, in a voice that shook
+a little, “It was almost unavoidable, colonel; I will explain it all
+when we get through.” And good old Pelham asked nothing more.
+
+Now to follow Ray. As he bounded along over the flats, taking
+short-cuts wherever he could, he had time to think over the situation,
+and did not half like it. Ever since the night of the ball at Prescott
+he had carried with him the tassel of Grace Pelham’s fan, and Glenham
+knew it; more than that, Glenham had become cool and constrained in
+his manner towards him. It will be remembered that Ray had carried off
+the tassel just as he was hurrying to join his troop, and from that
+time to this he had not been back to his own station, Camp Cameron.
+During the brief campaign his troop had been attached to Canker’s
+command, and around the bivouac-fires at night the young officers,
+frequently talking over the ball, could not refrain from speaking in
+terms of enthusiastic admiration of Miss Pelham’s many attractive and
+lovely qualities, Ray being by long odds the most outspoken, while
+poor Glenham, with his heart burning with love for her, sat silently
+apart, puffing nervously at his pipe. He could not speak of her
+himself,—it was torture to him to hear them talk of her. It seemed
+like profanation to hear her name mentioned under such circumstances,
+though every word spoken was in genuine admiration and respect. Ray
+had been quick to notice this, and being a warm-hearted fellow, full
+of consideration for other people despite his recklessness as regarded
+himself, he it was who had privately suggested to his comrades the
+propriety of discontinuing the subject. “You can all see how wretched
+it makes Glenham,—poor devil! I know how it is myself, so let’s quit
+it, fellows,” and quit it some of them did. But Crane and Carroll were
+possessed with malice and all uncharitableness, and Wilkins was not
+a gentleman, and this trio saw fit to disregard Ray’s request. They
+were glad of a chance to worry Glenham, and for two evenings after
+the others had agreed to avoid the subject in Glenham’s hearing these
+worthies had delightedly encouraged one another in keeping up sly
+allusions to the fact that as Miss Pelham and Truscott were all this
+time at Prescott together it would doubtless be an engagement by the
+time they got back. It was a significant fact that they selected such
+times as Ray was absent from the circle, looking after his herd guard,
+as he always did before turning in at night, to indulge in this luxury.
+Turner and Raymond were always early to bed, and, rolled their blankets
+under the trees, heard nothing of it. Canker did not interpose. Hunter
+and Dana were boys just out of “the Point,” and stood a little in awe
+of these older campaigners; but Ray ranked all the subalterns present,
+they knew and trusted him, for he had been one of their instructors
+in tactics and horsemanship at the Academy, and so the second night
+when he returned to the camp-fire Dana called him to one side and told
+him that Glenham had taken his blankets and gone off out of earshot
+and of the remarks of the trio on both nights while he was away. Ray
+blazed with wrath a moment, then he strolled unconcernedly back to the
+fire telling Dana to remain where he was, and in the most dulcet tones
+imaginable said, “Oh, Crane, Carroll, just come with me a moment, will
+you?” And ignoring Wilkins entirely, he led them, wondering, to where
+Dana stood among the pines, out beyond the sleeping group of soldiers
+into a little open space in the dear moonlight, and there he turned and
+faced them.
+
+“Mr. Crane, I address my remarks particularly to you. Mr. Carroll has
+but recently joined, and has not learned our ways yet. You have been
+_with_ us for years. You never have been, probably never _will_ be,
+_of_ us. It seems that despite the discovery that our thoughtless talk
+about Miss Pelham greatly distressed Mr. Glenham, you have not only
+persisted in, but have added to this means of annoying him. One moment.
+Mr. Crane; let me finish, and then you may have the floor as long as
+you like (there was something silvery sweet in Ray’s voice and manner
+just here). _Gentlemen_ who detect what we detected abstain from the
+possibility of giving pain or offence that cannot be resented, as Mr.
+Glenham cannot resent this. Cads and blackguards, Mr. Crane,—_cads_ and
+_blackguards_ continue to affront and annoy so long as they think they
+can do so unmolested.”
+
+“Do you mean to insult me, sir?” fiercely demanded Lieutenant Crane.
+
+“Just as you please about that, Mr. Crane,” said Ray, with all the
+placidity of a parson. “Mr. Dana is witness to my remarks. _They_
+certainly can be resented, and you are at liberty to take any steps in
+the matter your fancy may suggest. We march at seven to-morrow; there
+will be abundant light and time beforehand. Mr. Dana will receive any
+message you may choose to send. And now, Mr. Carroll, let me as a
+man who would like to be your friend suggest that, as you are just
+commencing your career in the —th, that you cut loose from the society
+of men who are apt to lead you into trouble; your participation in this
+matter doubtless arose from inexperience and bad example. Come, Dana.
+Good-night, gentlemen.” And with that he turned to go.
+
+Crane sulkily muttered some foul language as he stood glaring after
+Ray, and once more the latter faced him.
+
+“Puppies, Mr. Crane, snarl and snap at the heels of men before whom
+they grovel and cringe. If you have anything to say, say it now while
+we are face to face, otherwise be silent, or add whelp to what I have
+already called you.” And Ray stood squarely confronting his bulky
+antagonist. But Crane knew his man too well. He muttered something
+about only having been in fun, not meaning to hurt Glenham’s feelings,
+etc., to which Ray replied with some asperity and much contempt,—
+
+“Then let there be no more of it, unless you want this night’s
+conversation and the fact that you did not seek an officer’s reparation
+published through the regiment.”
+
+This put an abrupt stop to Glenham’s nightly annoyances; he knew not to
+what influence to attribute the change, he vaguely felt that Ray had
+something to do with it, and yet _that_ hurt him, for he knew that in
+the breast of his scouting-jacket Ray carried the tassel of her fan,
+and all that he had ever won from her was the glove he wore next his
+heart. Poor boy! He was very miserable throughout that brief raid, and
+when the order came to make for home and, when one day’s march away, he
+received reluctant permission to gallop ahead, it was with absolute
+dismay that he heard that the general had directed Ray’s troop to be
+retained at Camp Sandy, where Colonel Pelham wanted to gather as many
+companies as possible for battalion instruction. So Ray’s and “G” troop
+were ordered to go into camp on the plateau behind the men’s quarters,
+and Ray was sent ahead with him to make the necessary preparations.
+Then Colonel Pelham liked Ray immensely, so Glenham had always heard,
+and just as soon as Ray could resume his uniform, which he had left at
+Prescott, he appeared at the colonel’s, and had been a very frequent
+caller during the few days preceding this of the ride. It worried
+Glenham, and, boy that he was, made his manner to Ray very distant and
+cold.
+
+All this occurred to Ray as he sped up the valley. “I must not join
+them,” he thought, “and even if they should meet me ’twould be awkward.
+He would be ass enough to think I was watching or spying.” And so,
+perplexed and dissatisfied, Ray passed among the sharp turns and along
+the stony road-bed at Four-Mile Point, and after much twisting and
+turning, rode out from under the cottonwoods and willows, and there
+lay before him, winding up a gentle slope to the northwest, some five
+hundred yards of smooth and unobstructed road, the old road to Prescott
+as it lay in ’71—making its first rise from the valley to climb the
+mountain chain to the west.
+
+“All well so far, thank God!” he muttered to himself, and then bringing
+his steed down to a walk, he rode slowly up the slope, pondering over
+the next step to be taken. “They won’t be apt to go much higher up the
+valley,” he said to himself. “She would like to make the most of her
+ride, no doubt, and gallop a good deal. They did gallop up along here,”
+he continued, as his practised eye marked the hoof-tracks in the sand;
+“but once over that ridge, Glenham will want to go slow and spoon.
+There is no decent ford to take a lady over for five miles along the
+Sandy above here. No; they’ll come back this way. Now, how the devil
+can I excuse my presence?” And thinking thus, some distance below the
+ridge Ray checked his horse and stopped still. Once on the crest, he
+knew that he and his horse could be seen from far up the valley. “I
+never felt so like a sneak in my life,” he thought. “I’ve more than
+half a mind to go back; but then Truscott—No, by Jove, I’ll stick.”
+
+[Illustration:
+
+               “‘All right, Miss Gracie! Let him come!’”
+
+]
+
+Oh, well for many a loving heart, well for sweet Grace Pelham, well for
+them all was it that the quickest, surest light-horseman in Arizona
+stood to his post that day! Looking back down the slope, he marked
+the point around which the road suddenly turned out of sight; marked
+the jagged rocks over which the Sandy went tumbling and frothing to
+the willow-fringed shallows below; marked how the road seemed to end
+right there, to _lead_ right there into the jaws of destruction. “D—n
+the man who engineered this road!” he says, aloud, and then, no longer
+irresolute as to his course, he turns to go on up the slope, when—God!
+what is that sound that blanches his cheek? The sputter of gravel, the
+fierce, terrible rattle and clatter of runaway hoofs. All in a second
+it flashed upon him just what to expect. All in a second there rushed
+into view upon the ridge a sight that froze the blood in his veins.
+Ranger, his head high in air, the bit in his teeth, dashing blindly,
+madly towards him, and Grace—Grace, hat and veil gone, her beautiful
+hair streaming behind her, still firmly maintaining seat and rein, but
+powerless to control the wild rush of her steed,—horse and rider came
+flying down the slope, down towards the pitiless rocks and surges that
+lay but that short five hundred yards away. _Now_, Ray, Where are you?
+Oh, never fear for him! Pluck and skill and grit, coolness and nerve
+were never lacking when Ray stood by. Quick as a flash he reins his
+horse to left about. Quick as a flash the spurred heels strike home,
+and with the shout of “Go, you scoundrel!” ringing in his startled
+ears, Ray’s horse springs into a charge down the slope, _leading_
+Ranger by half a dozen lengths. Well over to the left of the road his
+rider guides him, looking warily ahead and noting with satisfaction
+that no boulders or heavy stones mar the track. Then, cool and steady,
+he turns in the saddle and waves his hand to her with cheery shout,
+“All right, Miss Gracie! Let him come! Give him his head!” She cannot
+distinguish the words, but her glorious eyes brighten, and she smiles
+bravely back. Ranger is gaining with every stride. The racer of the
+regiment, he is furious at being led. Again Ray urges on his fresher
+steed. No use to close in on Ranger now; he would simply swerve off
+to the right and, once on the turf, leave all behind him until he
+plunged into some of the pits or sloughs along the flats. A hundred
+yards more and the road dives under the steep bank which shuts it
+close to the boiling water; but then, O God! how short a span beyond
+is that terrible turn, those frightful rocks! With every stride is
+Ranger gaining. Nearer they come to the sheltering bank. Warily Ray
+lowers his right hand behind his thigh, and with head half turned
+watches the crazy brute tearing up closer to his flank. Now the bank
+is rising on their right. Now Ranger’s head is close on his quarter,
+opposite his shoulder, almost opposite his horse’s head. _Now_, Ray!
+And like flash of feathered arrow the gauntleted hand comes down on
+the curb, and a grasp of iron is laid on Ranger’s mouth. Well he knows
+the hand. There follow a few ineffectual plunges, and then, with much
+crashing of gravel and hoof, panting, heaving, foaming, he is brought
+to a halt,—ten yards from the turn! Then Ray looks at Grace. She is
+trying to say something, trying to smile, but the reins drop from her
+nerveless hands, the words falter on her lips, the smile dies away,
+and, white as a sheet, she is reeling in her saddle. Quick, quick as
+ever, his right arm is thrown around her waist, and he lifts her from
+her seat, swings to the ground on the _off_ side of his horse, then,
+as he would carry a child, he bears her to the bank of the stream,
+lays her gently at the foot of a tree, fills his cap with water, which
+he sprinkles on her face, then, as she starts and gives a little
+shuddering sigh, he kneels close beside her, lifts her tenderly on his
+arm till her head rests upon his shoulder, and then with the same old
+foraging head-gear he fans and at the same time liberally besprinkles
+the sweet, pale face. Ah! what is he calling her? What is he saying to
+her as the glorious eyes slowly open? Why do the heavily-fringed lids
+close so quickly? And that faint color that surges up to cheek and
+brow, what brings it there? What means this picture that bursts upon
+the eyes of Glenham, who reins up beside them in an agony of fear? Ray
+looks blithely up.
+
+“It’s all right, Glenham. No harm done; just a little faint. Gallop in
+and bring out the ambulance, there’s a good fellow.”
+
+And, sick at heart, Glenham goes.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Meantime, the colonel and Truscott remained at their desks in the
+office, the former occasionally addressing some question to his silent
+subordinate, and then going on in his methodical way with his letters.
+From time to time the sergeant-major or a clerk would enter with a
+fresh batch of papers, which would be noiselessly deposited on the
+adjutant’s desk, and those already signed were as quietly removed, and
+in the adjoining room, where the clerks were busily at work, made ready
+for the mail.
+
+At last, as eleven o’clock drew nigh, the colonel appeared to have
+completed his writing, and, with a stretch and yawn, rose and strolled
+over to Truscott’s desk.
+
+“Don’t you think it strange we have no answer from the general about
+those scouts?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir,” replied Truscott, rising. “But you know that Sieber is
+still out. He may be waiting for his report.”
+
+“All he says is this,” said the colonel, hunting first in his
+coat-pockets, then among the papers on his desk, and picking up finally
+a telegraphic despatch: “‘Hold Fanshawe, Craig, and the Indian scouts
+at Sandy until further orders;’” and in order to read he had stepped to
+the window looking out on the parade. “Have you any idea when Sieber
+will be in?” he asked. “By Jove! I believe the chief will come down
+again himself. Even the telegraph is too slow for him. Truscott,” he
+continued, while waiting for reply to his own question, “you cannot be
+well. I never saw you so white and haggard, and the circles under your
+eyes haunt me. ’Pon my word, I think you need medical advice, or rest,
+or change, or something. I thought you looked ill enough yesterday, but
+this morning it’s worse.”
+
+“It is nothing serious, colonel. I’ve been sitting up late and smoking
+too much, I fancy. There was a vast deal to be done when we got back,
+and I could not let the work go.”
+
+“That is why we see so little of you at the house, I suppose,” said
+Pelham. “You must try and come in often. Jack—I—well—I never knew
+how to speak to you about it, but that wild boy of mine has recently
+written me something of what you have been to him. He hasn’t told me
+all, he says, but he has told me enough to make me very grateful, as
+his mother would be too if she knew the influence for good you have
+over him; but he shrinks from letting her know anything of his scrapes,
+or Grace either. I don’t know how to thank you, old fellow, but—let us
+see more of you. I want you to know Grace.”
+
+He had put his hand affectionately on Truscott’s shoulder, and now,
+though his eyes were filled with tears, the old soldier looked straight
+into Truscott’s, and for a second the two clasped hands, but the
+adjutant said not a word. Then they strolled out on the piazza together.
+
+“Did you see Grace and Glenham start this morning?” asked the colonel.
+“I had to hurry over here to answer those telegrams, and missed it.
+Hollo! here come Mrs. Tanner and Rosalie,” he went on. “Morning, Mrs.
+Tanner,” he called out, cheerily, as the stanch Concord wagon span
+along past them, and the smiling faces of its occupants nodded cordial
+response to the salutations of the officers. “Been taking Rosalie a
+drive down the valley, I suppose,” he said. “Truscott, I never knew
+that little woman until Tanner’s troop came here last summer, and, do
+you know? I think she’s one of the most perfect ladies I ever met. And
+yet my wife, and Grace, too, by Jupiter, are perfectly dumb when I
+speak of her to them. What’s the reason, hey?”
+
+But Truscott did not hear; was not listening. With cheek growing whiter
+every instant, his eyes were fixed upon the figure of a soldier running
+towards them,—the stable sergeant of Tanner’s troop. An awful dread had
+seized upon him. He sprang forward to meet the man.
+
+“What is it, sergeant? Quick!”
+
+“Ranger, sir. He’s just come in all foam, and——”
+
+“What, Jack! What is it?” gasped the colonel, with ashen face and
+storing eyes.
+
+“Get into Mrs. Tanner’s ambulance and go right up the valley, sir. Take
+her with you. Ranger is in without Grace!”
+
+“Oh, my God!” cried poor old Pelham, as, bewildered and
+horror-stricken, he ran with Truscott towards Tanner’s quarters. There
+Jack almost lifted him into the wagon, and quickly told Mrs. Tanner
+what was wanted. Crack went the whip, and at a dead run they darted
+through the north gate, leaving poor little Rosalie crying with fright
+and astonishment upon the piazza. As they tore down the hill, Truscott,
+seated beside the driver, rose and almost hurrahed,—
+
+“Cheer up, colonel. We’ll find her all right. Here’s Ray’s horse too,
+and he’s got her.”
+
+On they went, the driver lashing his mules into a gallop as they
+whirled along the sandy flats. Once or twice a groan escaped the
+colonel’s lips, and Mrs. Tanner gently spoke,—
+
+“I’m sure you will find her safe. Mr. Ray was there in time, or his
+horse would not be here now.”
+
+Two miles out, and——“Here comes Glenham!” exclaimed Truscott.
+
+“Where is Grace? Is she hurt?” almost screamed the colonel, thrusting
+head and half his body through the doorway.
+
+“No, sir. All safe—at Four-Mile——”
+
+“_Go_ on, driver!” shouted the colonel, never caring to hear the
+rest of Glenham’s report. Away went the ambulance, and poor Arthur,
+breathless, unnerved by excitement, terror, and misery, turned his
+panting horse about to follow in their tracks, and then, drooping his
+head upon the brawny neck before him, covering his face with his hands,
+he burst into tears.
+
+A short drive took the party in the ambulance to the Point, much
+to the astonishment and very much to the disgust of Mr. Ray, whose
+determination to make hay while the sun shone was thus summarily broken
+in upon. He had calculated that at least an hour would elapse before
+any vehicle could reach them from the post, and here it was barely
+thirty minutes. Pelham sprang out and seized his daughter in his arms,
+kissing her repeatedly before he spoke at all. Then he turned to Ray,
+and grasped his hand.
+
+“I have heard no particulars. Glenham said she was unhurt, but somehow
+I feel that we owe it to you.”
+
+“You ought to have seen it, father,” said Grace; “it was the most
+skilful catch of a runaway horse that ever I heard of. Ranger had
+the bit in his teeth and was simply uncontrollable; and when we came
+tearing down this hill, and I saw those rocks ahead—well, you can
+hardly imagine how glad I was to hear Mr. Ray’s voice.”
+
+Meantime, Truscott had assisted Mrs. Tanner to alight, and the gentle
+little lady came forward with him to congratulate Miss Pelham on her
+escape. Grace looked embarrassed the instant she caught sight of the
+pair, but thanked them with great civility for their prompt appearance.
+Then the colonel insisted upon her driving home with them at once. The
+wagon was reversed, and the entire party took seats therein except
+Glenham, who had meantime arrived, and remained in the saddle a silent
+and miserable spectator of the scene. His woe-begone aspect caught
+Grace’s eye, and she leaned forward holding out her hand. “_Please_
+don’t worry about it, Mr. Glenham,” she said, in her gentle voice.
+“_Please_ don’t worry. It was all my own fault; you know I insisted on
+trying that gallop against your advice.” And the young fellow’s face
+brightened as he eagerly clasped the extended hand. Then they parted;
+the “Concord” driving back to the post, and Glenham riding up the road
+in search of the vanished chimney-pot.
+
+That evening Mr. Ray dined at the colonel’s. On every account it ought
+to have been to him a most enjoyable occasion; but long before coffee
+was served the young gentleman wished that he were dining, as indeed
+he often had dined, on hard-tack, cheese, and herring, with bottled
+beer _ad libitum_, down at the sutler’s store. To begin with, Grace
+was very pale and silent. She strove to entertain him at first, and
+to appear bright and cheerful, but despite her efforts he plainly
+saw that something had gone very much amiss. Her beautiful eyes gave
+unmistakable tokens of recent and excessive weeping, and her sweet,
+low voice was tremulous in the last degree. In pity and sympathy he
+turned to the colonel, and addressed his conversation exclusively to
+him. It was the colonel who, with great effusiveness, had burst into
+his tent about one o’clock in the afternoon and seized him by both
+hands. “Ray, my dear boy, in my anxiety to get Grace into the house and
+with her mother I did not half thank you for the inestimable service
+you rendered me. By heaven! I believe that we owe her life to you,”
+he had exclaimed, and then after a chat of half an hour had made Ray
+promise to come to dinner and gone off homeward. But dinner at the
+colonel’s did not take place until after evening parade, and meantime
+all sorts of things had happened; and when dinner-time came Grace was
+well-nigh prostrated, the colonel was wretched, and madame, the lady
+of the house, appeared only as dinner was announced, took her seat
+with an air of melodramatic grandeur, and not only failed to say one
+word of thanks to Ray for the rescue of the morning, but absolutely
+treated him with haughty displeasure. Not one civil word did she
+speak during the hour he spent in the house; and to be brief, she had
+started in about two o’clock, when the colonel came home saying he had
+invited Ray to dinner, and spent the afternoon in making her husband
+and daughter utterly miserable. How she accomplished this will be
+detailed presently. Ray, as has been said, addressed his conversation
+to the colonel, and with all the tact at his command strove to hide his
+own discomfiture. The colonel, for his part, made fitful efforts to
+appear jolly and hospitable. To this end he kept the wine in constant
+play, and to Grace’s consternation it soon became evident that the
+unusual indulgence was telling upon him with startling effect. He
+talked incessantly, he made frequent repetitions, his face flushed,
+and his tongue grew thick; and finally, with a glare of wrath and
+defiance at his wife, he brought his clinched fist down on the table
+with a thump that made the glasses ring, and exclaimed, “Ray, you
+saved my daughter’s life, my dear boy, and you shall be welcome to my
+house and my table whenever you choose to come, no matter who dares
+to interfere.” Whereupon her ladyship rose and left the table, Grace
+following, but stopping to bend and press her pure lips upon her
+father’s heated brow; then giving her hand to Ray, she begged him to
+excuse her going to her room, saying that after all she found she was
+a trifle shaken by the morning’s adventure; but her eyes plainly said
+“Please go,” and go he did ten minutes after, declaring he heard first
+call for tattoo, with tattoo still an hour away. Then the colonel took
+a nap on the sofa, and Mrs. Pelham sent a messenger to say that she
+would like to see Mr. Glenham.
+
+No wonder Grace was looking pale and exhausted that evening. With her
+buoyant health and her years of experience in the saddle, there was
+nothing in the runaway of the morning to cause any especial distress as
+an after-effect; and so to reassure her mother she had laughed off the
+affair, changed her dress, and appeared at luncheon as though nothing
+had happened. She had recounted the entire adventure to her ladyship
+in all its essential particulars, but notwithstanding a rigorous
+cross-examination she had found it possible to make no mention of Mr.
+Ray’s emotional method of restoring her to consciousness. Madame had
+sharply watched her as she told how the last thing she remembered was
+his lifting her from the saddle, and the vivid blush that rose to her
+temples had excited the maternal curiosity, if not suspicion, and had
+filled her with vague alarm. Still, all might have gone well had not
+Mr. Glenham appeared about noon bringing the riding-hat and veil. Mrs.
+Pelham welcomed him eagerly, led him into the parlor, and, noting
+his pallor and distress, had made him swallow a glass of wine. Then
+she relentlessly assailed him with questions, found him hopeless and
+dejected, and strove to encourage him, but he broke forth impulsively,—
+
+“It is no use, Mrs. Pelham. I have no luck. Everything is against me.
+I might have some chance were it not for Ray, but every moment only
+adds to his advantage. She has liked him from the very first; and
+to-day—to-day—she _must_ care for him, for when I reached them she was
+in his arms and—and he kissing her.” And poor Glenham covered his face
+with his hands and groaned.
+
+Lady Pelham was horrified. What! Grace—her Grace falling in love with
+that penniless, dissolute young reprobate Ray! It was monstrous; it was
+unbearable. It _should_ not be. She made Glenham promise to obey her
+instructions implicitly, and finally dismissed him with the assurance
+that Ray should be sent to the right-about, and that Grace should be
+brought to her senses forthwith. Then she started for Grace’s room; but
+the ladies began to flock in to inquire after the young lady, and not
+until after luncheon did she get her innings.
+
+Of that interview the less said the better. Grace was accused of
+everything that was indelicate, immodest, unladylike. A disgraceful
+flirtation with a man who was utterly beneath her—accepting his
+caresses—and for aught she knew returning them—_lying_ in his arms.
+Shameful! shameful! And all the time leading Glenham on and encouraging
+him, and Truscott, too. It was bad enough with him at Prescott; but
+this—oh, what _would_ her poor father say if he knew it?
+
+Great heaven! why attempt to describe it? Is there on earth, can there
+be in Gehenna, anything to equal in bitterness, in rank injustice,
+in stinging, scourging, scalding venom, the ruthless tongue of
+an infuriated and disappointed woman? In vain Grace implored and
+protested; in vain she declared that it was only in her swoon that he
+had held her; in vain she denied all knowledge of his kiss. Her mother
+stormed on until in her agony Grace rushed from the room just as her
+father entered the house, and threw herself, in a passion of tears,
+into his arms. Sobbing and breathless, she strove to tell her story,
+but could not, though he led her into the parlor, and taking her on his
+knee, holding her close to his breast, as he had done so many a time in
+her childhood, he strove to soothe and calm her. Her ladyship followed
+and took the floor, reiterating her accusations, for, thoroughly
+enraged, she cared not what she said. For a moment he listened in dumb
+amaze. Then, with his arm still holding his daughter close to his
+heart, he sprang to his feet and stood confronting her.
+
+“Stop it, I say! Stop it at once! I will not listen to such outrageous
+talk,” he sternly spoke, while his face grew white and his firm mouth
+set like a rigid line under the crisp gray moustache.
+
+“Oh, better hear it from me, Colonel Pelham, than as the scandal of the
+garrison, as you _will_ hear it,” she answered.
+
+“_Who_ dared tell you such a thing? I don’t believe a word of it. You
+are crazy, Dolly. Think what you are saying, and restrain yourself.
+Grace, darling, I know it is all a lie. Don’t sob so, girlie; _don’t_
+sob so,” he pleaded, as his lips were pressed upon her forehead and his
+trembling hand caressed her shining hair.
+
+She raised her face to his, striving to smile through her tears,
+striving to control herself.
+
+“I had fainted, papa. I—I know that he lifted me in his arms,
+but—oh!—nothing else, except—except some foolish words he spoke.”
+
+“How did you know this? _Who_ is your authority for _your_ statement?”
+he said, angrily, turning towards his wife, who was pacing the floor
+like a tragedy queen. She stopped and glared at them as she almost
+hissed her reply.
+
+“Mr. Glenham, the gentleman she has been trifling with, saw it all. He
+is my authority. Perhaps you will doubt me now, Colonel Pelham.”
+
+“Glenham be d——d!” shouted the colonel, now fairly beside himself
+with wrath. “The idea of his coming whining here to you with such a
+miserable complaint! If that’s the sort of man you want your daughter
+to marry, you can understand right here that I won’t stand it. As for
+Mr. Ray, by Gad! Mrs. Pelham, he has my respect and sympathy. _Yes_,
+ma’am, my respect and sympathy. I don’t see how he could help kissing
+her; I—I’d have done it myself in his place; and she’s no more to
+blame than you are, nor half as much, by Gad!” Evidently the colonel
+was getting madder and madder, and waxing illogical and incoherent.
+Madame saw it and recognized her advantage. Oh, woman, woman! you might
+have spared him, you might have spared her, the bitter blow you had in
+reserve, but in your relentless wrath nothing short of torture could
+suffice.
+
+“Mr. Ray comes here to dinner to-day, Mrs. Pelham, and you will see
+that he is properly received and entertained. He saved our Gracie’s
+life, God bless him! And you—you’ve no more gratitude than a cat,”
+continued our irate and injudicious colonel. “And as for this infernal
+story of your friend, Mr. Glenham, I mean to sift it for myself. I had
+some regard for him before. _Now_ it’s my belief he’s a mere milksop.”
+
+Seeing her father’s increasing rage, poor Grace had checked her tears
+and was striving in vain to restrain him. He still stood with his
+left arm closely enfolding her, his right arm free and gesticulating
+violently. It was upraised as he closed with his denunciation of
+Glenham, and he stood there with flushed and angry features frowning at
+his wife.
+
+For an instant there was silence. Then came her answer. Every word
+sharp as the crack of a whip, remorseless, relentless.
+
+“Invite your gamblers and libertines if you will, Colonel Pelham, but
+spare your abuse of an honest and generous gentleman. _Possibly_ you
+may feel some regret for your intemperate language when I tell you
+that but for Mr. Glenham your own flesh and blood would now have been
+involved in ruin and disgrace, that but for his magnanimity your son
+would have been driven to suicide.”
+
+Slowly the color faded from Pelham’s face, slowly he unwound his arm
+from his daughter’s waist and leaned uneasily forward, slowly the angry
+light faded from his eyes, and little by little a wistful, bewildered
+gaze took its place. He attempted to speak, but choked in the effort.
+At last the words came. “What do you mean?” he whispered. “I don’t
+understand.”
+
+“Simply this,” she answered, coldly: “Ralph has been speculating: he
+obtained in some way five hundred dollars which he felt sure of being
+able to replace in three days; lost it all and was ruined. He had only
+one hope—Mr. Glenham, and Mr. Glenham instantly telegraphed him the
+money from Prescott.”
+
+“How do you know this?” gasped the colonel. “Has Mr. Glenham told you
+this, too?” he asked, unjust in his misery, as many and many a man has
+been, warm-hearted as he was.
+
+“Mr. Glenham is too much of a gentleman to mention such a thing. There,
+sir, is your son’s letter to me.” And she tossed him a rumpled sheet.
+He took it from the table mechanically, seated himself on the lounge,
+and began to read. Without a word Mrs. Pelham strode from the room and
+ascended the stairs. Grace stood a moment like one in a trance, then
+wearily turning, slowly, dreamily sought her own room. Colonel Pelham
+remained motionless on the lounge, and Maggie, the housemaid, putting
+things to rights in the dining-room, knocked off work and went in next
+door to tell Bridget, the cook, of the high jinks at the commanding
+officer’s that afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Pending the arrival of Mr. Glenham, for whom her ladyship had sent
+her messenger, she took a seat upon the piazza. The evening air was
+chilly, and she wrapped her mantle closely around her and fell to
+thinking over the events of the day. It cannot be said that she felt
+either elation or happiness over the result of her efforts. Now that
+her paroxysm of rage had vanished she began to realize that she had
+been horribly unjust to Grace, and yet had anybody suggested that
+she had been brutally unjust it would have fired her with sufficient
+self-righteous fervor to have nerved her to repeat with emphasis every
+word she had uttered. Then there was her husband. She had humbled him
+in the way of all others she well knew would hurt him the most. She
+had goaded him into saying harsh and unjust things about one of his
+officers, and then cracked over his head the terrific whip of his great
+and hitherto unknown obligation to that gentleman. She had inflicted
+upon him in Grace’s presence the deep humiliation of hearing that his
+favorite son had again been resorting to questionable means of raising
+money for stock-gambling, and having lost, had appealed to officers of
+his regiment for assistance and got it. She had absolutely insinuated,
+as though to throw brine upon the quivering flesh she had galled, that
+Ralph had confessed to her that he had tampered with funds that he had
+no authority to use, which was untrue and unpardonable in a mother,
+but rage was in her heart when she did it, and she thought of nothing
+but how surest to wound. She had humbled him in the dust, and what
+had she gained? Now that it was all over she sat there brooding over
+the affair. The colonel was sleeping heavily upon the lounge in the
+parlor; Grace, who had gone to her room immediately after dinner, had
+stolen down-stairs and arranged the pillow more comfortably under his
+head, and then, after fanning him a while, had seated herself in a low
+chair, and with her face buried in her hands was trying to think calmly
+over all that had happened. The lamp burned low on the parlor table,
+and Mrs. Pelham looking through the slats of the blind could see her
+as she sat in this attitude of utter dejection. The mother’s heart for
+a moment struggled within her and urged her to go and take her to her
+bosom and beg her pardon for the hideous language she had used that
+day, but no. It was no time for weakness, she argued. By all means,
+by _any_ means, she must be made to marry Glenham, and then, said her
+ladyship, once rich, independent, with a husband who adores her, she
+will be happy, and will thank me for my unswerving course. Yes, the end
+will justify the means. She must fret and worry now a while. Truscott
+is no longer to be dreaded. Thanks to his devotion, or the story of
+his devotion to Mrs. Tanner, _he_ is disposed of, and Ray will be as
+easily settled. She cannot have learned to care for him so suddenly.
+And so ran her ladyship’s reflections, and so she found excuses for her
+unnatural conduct.
+
+Ralph’s letter had by no means justified the tragic manner and
+language of her announcement. It was a simple, warm-hearted, boyish
+confession to his mother that he had lost five hundred dollars in
+speculation, that the money for the margins had been raised unknown to
+his father, and that he would have been swamped but for Glenham. “I
+wrote to Truscott of my trouble, in accordance with a promise I had
+made him, and instantly Glenham sent me the money. Now I have quit it
+for good and all, and I want you to know it,” was pretty much what he
+had written. All the rest of her sensational account was purely an
+invention of her own. She hated to think that Truscott was in any way
+mixed up in the matter; but there is no need of Grace’s knowing that,
+she argued. She must understand that it is all Mr. Glenham’s doing. But
+where was Glenham all this time? She had sent for him long since, and
+he had not come, nor had the orderly returned. What did it mean? The
+night was dark and chill, occasional gusts of wind whirled through the
+line of deserted piazzas. Officers’ row outside was desolate. Every one
+was in-doors. Nobody seemed to be calling on anybody. She had dreaded
+that some of the ladies would be over to make further inquiries, but
+none had come. In fact, her ladyship’s unpopularity had begun to be
+recognized as established by this time, for she had snubbed pretty
+much every woman in the garrison, and none of them cared to call upon
+her unless some new story about somebody or other was floated upon the
+tide of garrison talk, and thereby rendered a chat with her ladyship
+endurable. Very lonely she felt as she sat there looking out on the
+dark parade and listening for the clank of the orderly’s sabre as he
+returned from his quest. Over at the adjutant’s office the lights were
+burning brilliantly as ever, and there she knew Truscott to be at work.
+Half an hour passed, and at last a form came stalking up before her
+through the darkness,—the orderly, but no Glenham.
+
+“Could you not find Mr. Glenham?” she asked.
+
+“No, ma’am. The loot’nint isn’t in his quarters, nor down at the store,
+nor over at the company. I’ve looked everywhere, ma’am, except among
+the officers’ quarters.”
+
+She pondered a moment. It was hardly possible that he would be calling
+anywhere this evening of all others. A sudden thought struck her.
+
+“Have you been to Mr. Ray’s camp?”
+
+“Yes’m, an’ he ain’t there. Mr. Ray, he’s down at the store playin’——”
+and the orderly finished his sentence with a conscience-stricken
+gulp, it suddenly occurring to him that possibly poker was not to be
+mentioned to so exalted a lady as the colonel’s wife, but madame had no
+scruples in the matter. Here was a possibility of confirmatory evidence
+at Mr. Ray’s expense.
+
+“What was he playing, orderly?”
+
+“Cards, ma’am.”
+
+“Yes. Cards, of course; but what game?”
+
+“They plays it with chips, ma’am,” said the orderly, vainly struggling
+to repair the damage of his unlucky admission.
+
+“You mean poker, of course,” persisted madame. “Who else was in the
+game?”
+
+“Faith, ma’am, I didn’t notice. I was lookin’ for Mr. Glenham,”
+stammered the soldier, wishing to heaven he were out of her clutches;
+and she, finding it useless to question further, dismissed him and
+returned to her reflections.
+
+Then soft and clear there rose from near the flag-staff the trumpet
+signal for “first call;” and, as the mellow notes were repeated,
+the doors of the men’s quarters across the parade were opened, and,
+with jest and laughter and merry talk, the troopers came sauntering
+out. Here and there lights flitted to and fro,—the lanterns of the
+first sergeants. Then the trumpeters of the entire command, having
+united, began their march around the garrison, sounding their stirring
+quicksteps. Door after door along officers’ row opened and gave exit to
+some muffled figure, and the lanterns of the company officers danced
+away across the dark parade. Then her own door opened and closed with
+a slam, and her husband stood beside her. He glanced curiously at her
+one instant, and, without a word, strolled off to the other end of
+the piazza; he who rarely met her without some kindly greeting, and
+she knew well how deeply she had wounded him; then the assembly rang
+out upon the still air, and the “here,” “here,” of the men could be
+distinctly heard, and the gruff voices of the sergeants calling their
+rolls; then the lanterns all seemed to be converging towards a solitary
+light that stood under the flag-staff, each halting short some few
+paces from it, and such communications as “Company ‘B,’ present, or
+accounted for,” “Company ‘F,’ Private Mulligan absent,” came floating
+along the chill night air; then all the lanterns scattered, and soon
+were out of sight; all save one,—the stationary light in the centre
+of the parade; and presently Truscott’s deep voice was heard calling
+for the first sergeant of some company, and then the colonel sharply
+turned,—
+
+“Orderly, my compliments to the adjutant, and say I wish to see him.”
+
+Another moment and the tall form of Mr. Truscott appeared, lantern
+bearing, and the colonel spoke,—
+
+“What troop was that failed to report?”
+
+“‘K,’ sir.”
+
+“‘K!’ Captain Canker’s! Whose duty was it to receive the report of the
+roll-call?”
+
+“Mr. Glenham’s, sir.”
+
+“Why, where on earth is Glenham? I never knew him to miss roll-call
+before.”
+
+“Nor I, colonel. It is possible he has slept through over home. He was
+looking very worn and tired at dinner.”
+
+“Beg pardon, sir,” broke in the orderly; “I’ve been everywhere for the
+loot’nint this evening, and I don’t believe he’s in garrison.”
+
+“Where else could he be? There’s no earthly place to go to,” said
+Pelham, impatiently. “See if you can find him, Truscott,—not that I
+want to see him to-night,—and then—come back, will you? I want to see
+you.”
+
+“And should you find Mr. Glenham, be so kind as to say that Mrs. Pelham
+would like to speak with him a few minutes,” said madame, placidly, and
+Truscott walked rapidly away towards the northern end of the row.
+
+Sitting in the parlor, Grace had heard most of the conversation. Her
+heart was full of pity for Glenham before the events of this day, and
+the suffering in his young face had touched her deeply when she saw
+him at noon. Now, now it seemed that he had rescued Ralph, the brother
+whom she dearly loved, from a fate that was bitter as death. How could
+she thank him? Where was he? What did this strange absence mean?
+
+Distressed and anxious, she stepped out on the piazza and joined her
+father, who was standing in moody silence where Truscott had left him.
+She slipped her hand within his arm, saying not a word, and rested her
+soft cheek upon his shoulder. The colonel sighed deeply as he patted
+the little hand, and then touched her brow with his lips. Neither
+spoke, but in deep, sweet sympathy father and daughter understood and
+comforted one another.
+
+Meantime, Truscott had reached his quarters. The lamps were burning
+dimly, and a brief inspection showed him that Glenham was not in the
+house, but his cavalry overcoat and his favorite pipe were gone too,
+and, taking his lantern, the adjutant quickly stepped out on the back
+gallery, and in a moment more had gained the edge of the bluff north
+of the post. Here, a short pistol range from the gate, there had
+been built in the bank a stout timber framework, on which was hung
+a huge wooden water-wheel, turned by the flow from the _acequia_ on
+the plateau. The wheel worked a force-pump, by means of which a small
+supply of water was driven through wooden pipes along the back of
+officers’ row. The plash of the water fell with a musical sound upon
+Truscott’s ear as he approached the little waste weir above the wheel.
+He walked quickly and unhesitatingly towards it.
+
+“Poor fellow,” he said to himself, “he has dreaded meeting any of the
+‘crowd’ to-night, and has stolen out here somewhere to dodge them.”
+
+Searching along the bank, he came to a pathway leading down to the well
+below the wheel, and, cautiously descending it, he suddenly heard his
+name called; a sleepy voice inquiring,—
+
+“That you, Jack? What’s up?”
+
+“Time you were up, youngster,” was the half-laughing answer. “What do
+you mean by gipsying out here all night?”
+
+“I suppose I must have been asleep,” replied Glenham; “though God knows
+I didn’t expect to sleep this night,” he added, in a tone of such deep
+dejection that, as he rose, Truscott stretched forth a kindly hand and
+aided him up the slope.
+
+“Never mind, old fellow, none of the gang will be around to bother you.
+Come into the house and spruce up a bit. Mrs. Pelham wants to see you,
+and the chief wants to see me. We’ll go down together.”
+
+And so the watchers on the colonel’s piazza were soon rewarded by the
+sight of the adjutant and his comrade rapidly approaching, the faithful
+lantern still swinging in Truscott’s hand. Pelham greeted the younger
+officer with an attempt at jocularity that well nigh choked him. Then
+saying,—
+
+“I believe Mrs. Pelham wants to have a word with you,” he turned to
+Truscott. “Come in, Jack,” he said, and led the way into the parlor,
+whither Grace had already fled. She rose as they entered, intending to
+leave the room, but her father called to her not to go, and Truscott,
+stepping forward, held out his hand, saying,—
+
+“It is the first opportunity I have had, Miss Pelham. I heartily
+congratulate you on your escape this morning. I think I ought to say on
+your own pluck and good riding.”
+
+“Pluck and good riding would not have saved me, Mr. Truscott, if Mr.
+Ray had not been there.”
+
+“Possibly not. Ray’s skill is proverbial, but pluck and good riding
+kept you in your seat when many a woman would have been hurled out and
+dragged.”
+
+“See here, Truscott,” broke in the colonel, “suppose you ride with
+Grace to-morrow. You can spare the time now, can you not? and I’ll feel
+safe when she is with you.”
+
+Despite his efforts at self-control the blood rushed to the very roots
+of his hair. Truscott had marked all too keenly Grace’s constraint and
+coldness towards him since their arrival at Sandy, and Mrs. Pelham’s
+rudeness was the talk of the garrison. Grace, too, had colored at her
+father’s abrupt request, but said no word of remonstrance. So Truscott
+quickly spoke,—
+
+“I shall be most happy, Miss Pelham, if you will honor me as the
+colonel suggests;” and Grace could not but accept. “To-morrow morning,
+then,” he added, and with that he turned to his colonel as she passed
+on into the adjoining room.
+
+Then the old soldier grasped his hand, and in a voice that trembled in
+spite of his efforts at self-control, the colonel impetuously broke
+forth,—
+
+“Jack, what is this about Ralph? I want to know everything. He
+writes to his mother that he has lost money in speculating, and that
+through you he has borrowed five hundred dollars from Glenham; and he
+intimates that but for this timely aid he would have been ruined.
+Where—how did he raise the money in the first place?”
+
+Again the flash of embarrassment rose to Truscott’s temples. He
+hesitated before speaking, but presently the words came, calmly,
+resolutely.
+
+“Just where he got it I do not know, but this I do know, that in no
+way has he employed the funds of his firm; in no way has he violated
+his trust. He borrowed the money from some broker, giving his note at
+thirty days,—some broker who knew him and felt sure of his money. He
+has been led into this speculation by overconfident friends in San
+Francisco, and he and they have been swallowed by larger and shrewder
+operators. It is an expensive experience, colonel, but a valuable one.
+He wrote me fully and frankly, and I feel confident that the case
+stands as I tell it to you.”
+
+“God bless you, Jack! God bless you for the lifting of this load from
+my heart. I—I feared it was far worse. His mother said—well, she
+misunderstood him, or his letter, or somehow she got it wrong. She
+thought he might have been tempted and—you know, Jack—embezzled the
+money. It upset her and made her nervous, I suppose, for she broke it
+to us in rather a rough way. God bless you again, Jack! you’ve been
+a good friend to my boy.” And now the tears were streaming down old
+Pelham’s rugged face, and he stepped hurriedly to the door leading to
+the dining-room.
+
+“Grace, daughter, come here. I want you to hear what Truscott says; it
+isn’t as your mother put it, thank God! it isn’t that at all.” And
+leading her in, he sank upon the sofa and buried his face in his great
+bandanna, almost sobbing in his relief and joy.
+
+Looking down into the sweet, pale features, Truscott repeated to Grace,
+in his grave, gentle way, just what he had told her father, and as he
+finished, and the eager, anxious, wistful gaze fled from her face,
+giving place to radiant joy, she stood one second looking up into his
+eyes; then, with an uncontrollable impulse, she threw forward both her
+little hands, seizing his with a clasp that sent the blood thrilling
+through his veins, her glorious eyes welled with tears, and she
+exclaimed, “Oh, no wonder father says ‘God bless you!’ Mr. Truscott.
+I say it. I pray it again and again. God bless you! God bless you!”
+And upon this most touching and delightful of domestic pictures who
+should there be gazing in dismay and astonishment but Lady Pelham
+herself? Yes, there she stood at the parlor-door, well-nigh petrified
+with amazement. Not one of the three observed her. All were too much
+occupied in their own affairs to think of her an instant. Listening,
+she heard Truscott reply. Oh, could any woman mistake the meaning
+of that intonation, the infinite tenderness, the tremulous, almost
+caressing sweetness of his deep voice?
+
+“I have done nothing to deserve such thanks, Miss Grace; though there
+is nothing I would not do. Don’t fear for Ralph. You shall have his
+own letters—yes, this very night if you like, and see for yourself how
+undeserving he is of such suspicion.”
+
+And then, of course, her ladyship swept forward. “If _you_ have any
+letters of my son’s bearing upon this matter, Mr. Truscott, _I_ desire
+to see them, and to-morrow morning will be time enough. Grace has had
+quite enough agitation for one day and needs repose. Colonel Pelham,
+with your permission I will say good-night. Come, Grace.”
+
+But Grace did not come with the alacrity expected of her. Hardly
+noticing her mother, she stepped to the colonel’s side as he sat
+mopping his face in his handkerchief, bent over him, twining her arms
+around his neck and kissing him tenderly. Then she rose, and standing
+before Truscott, again held out her hand, and smiling brightly up in
+his face, exclaimed,—
+
+“I wish I knew how to thank you, Mr. Truscott, but now I can only say
+good-night.”
+
+Only say good-night! But what went with it? Oh, Grace, Grace! were
+you after all immodest, unladylike? If not, how can you account for,
+how can you defend, the fact that you did, honestly and actually, not
+exactly squeeze, but press, Jack Truscott’s hand? To this day he has
+never forgotten it.
+
+That Mrs. Pelham was all ready by this time to inflict another tirade
+of abuse upon her daughter is not to be doubted by any reasonable being
+who had once become well acquainted with that energetic matron. Having
+marshalled Grace out of the room, she likewise made her exit, closing
+the door behind her, and the stairs were presently heard creaking under
+her weight. Grace had fluttered up like a bird, and rushing to her room
+had closed her door with some emphasis, quite as much as to say that
+she was in no mood for further lectures. But her indomitable parent
+followed relentlessly in her footsteps, and entered the sanctuary with
+no ceremony whatever. Another moment, and her voice became audible
+in the parlor below. Truscott bade his colonel good-night, and that
+veteran went up the stairs two at a time and precipitated himself upon
+his better-half in the midst of an imposing sentence.
+
+“Dolly! We’ve had too much of this sort of thing to-day. Not one word
+now. I mean it. Come at once to your own room and leave Grace in peace.”
+
+Rare indeed were the occasions when he ventured thus to assert himself
+before her. But when he did she had the deep sagacity to obey. One
+experience at revolt years before had resulted so disastrously that
+never again did she attempt it, and so now with a glance full of
+meaning at her daughter, and a heart full of passion and bitterness,
+she rose in silence and left the room.
+
+Jack Truscott walked home with a wild elation in his heart, with pulses
+still bounding from the pressure of that slender white hand. He heard
+Glenham moving about in his own room, but somehow he could not bear
+to see Glenham just then. Lighting his pipe, and throwing his cavalry
+circular around him, he took a seat out in the darkness of the piazza,
+and strove calmly to think it all over. Until this night she had
+plainly shown a desire to keep him at a distance, and he, too proud to
+question, had accordingly avoided her. He could understand the maternal
+antipathy, but not that of Grace. To-night, all of a sudden, all was
+changed, and sweeter, more attractive than ever, she had shown herself
+to him in her true light. Striving to fathom it all, he became absorbed
+in thought, and failed to hear Glenham’s footsteps as the latter
+approached him; he started as a hand was laid on his shoulder.
+
+“Jack, I want to talk to you; I want your advice.” It was Glenham, pipe
+in mouth and camp-chair in hand, who had accosted him. He shook himself
+together, and with an effort bade his young comrade pull up his chair
+and fire away.
+
+“It isn’t such a long story, Jack; I sha’n’t bore you a great while.
+You know Mrs. Pelham sent for me to-night, and we had a talk about—Miss
+Pelham.” And already poor Arthur began to stumble and hesitate. “You
+_must_ know all about it, Jack; how—how I’ve loved her ever since we
+met at the Point during my first class camp two years ago. It has got
+to be something mighty—mighty serious with me, and I’m afraid you’ve
+thought me unfriendly and forgetful of you of late; but it isn’t that,
+Jack; I’m too miserable and unhappy to want to see anybody but—but her,
+and that only makes me worse. Everything is going wrong; I thought I
+had reason to hope; I was led to hope, Jack, but—it was all a mistake I
+reckon, and luck is dead against me here.”
+
+He stopped and looked appealingly towards the dimly-outlined figure in
+the neighboring chair. There was a moment’s pause, and then Truscott’s
+pipe was removed from his lips and he slowly spoke:
+
+“Glenham, I have known it, of course,—that is, something of it. Do you
+mean now that you _want_ me to know the whole story?”
+
+“Yes, I do, Truscott, for I need your advice.”
+
+There was another pause, and then came the question:
+
+“You say you were led to hope. Had you spoken of the matter to her
+before?”
+
+“Yes, two years ago, at West Point.”
+
+“And she led you to hope then?”
+
+“No, not at all; she was gentle and kind, but—but she was nothing more.”
+
+“Then how were you led to hope?”
+
+“Mrs. Pelham, Jack, she talked to me two or three times, and told me
+that it was only because Grace was too young then, that it would all
+come right. That’s why I applied for the —th, and was content to come
+in at the foot of the list. I’m no horseman; I’m only fit for the
+infantry, and ought to have gone in it.”
+
+“And since you have been here and at Prescott together, has there been
+nothing more favorable?”
+
+“I thought so, and Mrs. Pelham declares it is so, but after this
+wretched morning—well, ever since Ray got here I’ve thought otherwise.”
+
+“Do you mean that you look upon Ray as a rival?”
+
+“How can I help it, Jack? He carries the tassel of her fan in his
+vest-pocket. He was devoted to her every chance he got at Prescott, so
+he has been here, and this morning—this morning he saved her life, and
+you know it, and when I reached them—my God! he had her in his arms,
+and—oh, I can’t tell you about it! She never moved even when I came.”
+
+Truscott winced as though a sharp knife had suddenly pierced him, and
+his voice was lower, deeper, than ever as he asked,—
+
+“Do you think she cares for Ray?”
+
+“I don’t know. I can only judge by what I saw. Why, Truscott, I—I saw
+him kiss her, and she—well, if she fancied him before, this morning’s
+work has finished it. She owes her life to him.”
+
+Truscott sat a while in silence, then rose and slowly paced up and down
+the piazza. Presently Glenham joined him, and the two walked side by
+side.
+
+“I don’t know what to make of Mrs. Pelham, Truscott,” said he. “She
+sent to reassure me, she said, and told me that while Grace might be
+grateful to Ray for rescuing her as he did, she would be far more
+touched by the infinite service I had done her brother. I asked her
+what she meant, and she replied that Ralph had confided to her that I
+had supplied him with a large sum of money to relieve him from great
+and pressing embarrassment. I swore I’d never done anything of the
+kind; and when she found I was in earnest, she asked me to forget that
+she had mentioned it, and to say nothing about it to any one; but she
+is so mysterious that I don’t like it. What is she up to, do you think?
+My brain is addled to-night.”
+
+“Hard to say,” replied Truscott, briefly. “Tell me this, Glenham, has
+she, Miss Pelham, ever alluded to her brother to you?”
+
+“Never. She never does talk to me except on utterly matter-of-fact
+affairs. That’s what grits me so. I know I’m far from being her equal
+mentally, but I’m not utterly a blockhead.”
+
+“Then as I understand you, Glenham, you think that but for Ray’s
+interference you could hope for success?”
+
+“Her mother says so, Jack, and I—I try to think so, but I can’t get
+over the feeling that she—that she—well—almost pities me. She has so
+much character, intellect, I suppose they call it, and I——” And here
+poor Glenham stopped short with almost a sob, and leaned drearily
+against one of the wooden pillars of the piazza. Truscott, too, ceased
+his promenade and stood beside him, puffing somewhat nervously at his
+meerschaum.
+
+Then Glenham spoke again. “Jack, you have always been my best friend
+here, and I have learned to lean upon you. I want your advice. Do you
+think I have any chance with her?”
+
+For a moment there was no reply; then it came, slowly, almost sadly.
+
+“You have wealth and position, Glenham. You have the best wishes of her
+parents. She herself cannot but respect you and your honest love for
+her. I should say that the chances were in your favor; but, you said
+‘advice.’ Do you mean it? Do you want to know just what I think of this
+affair?”
+
+“Yes,” said Glenham, huskily.
+
+“Then, in all candor, Arthur, I say to you, it is my belief that the
+man who marries a woman who either is, or who fancies she is, his
+mental superior, makes the fatal blunder of his life.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+That Mrs. Pelham should fail to put in an appearance at the
+breakfast-table on the morning succeeding her tirade at the expense
+of Mr. Ray was a circumstance neither to be unexpected nor greatly
+deplored. It had frequently happened of late that the colonel and his
+daughter had been the only partakers of that meal, as we Americans are
+perforce condemned to designate those household gatherings whereat, be
+it breakfast or dinner, tea, supper, or luncheon, we thankfully consume
+our daily bread. I hate the word, yet what have we as a suitable
+equivalent? Repast is stilted, refection monastic, and refreshment
+applies equally to a bath or a “cocktail.” Meal it must be in all its
+Anglo-Saxon ugliness until some gifted word-builder come to our rescue
+and evolve a term less objectionable.
+
+The morning had dawned bright and beautiful, and Grace, whose
+sleep had been broken and troubled, rose with the sun, and
+busied herself noiselessly with a neglected diary and an equally
+neglected correspondence until the trumpets sounding first call for
+guard-mounting warned her that it was time to make her father’s coffee.
+First, however, she tapped at her mother’s door, and receiving no
+answer, softly opened it and peered in. Whether asleep or awake her
+ladyship gave no indication, so Grace stole on tiptoe to the bedside.
+Her mother’s eyes were closed, and to Grace’s gentle inquiry as to
+how she had passed the night, and whether she would breakfast there,
+no reply was vouchsafed, so the girl quietly turned and left her.
+Breakfast over, she and her father had betaken themselves to the piazza
+and watched the guard as it passed in review. Then as the colonel
+walked over to his office to receive the report of the officer of the
+day, Mr. Truscott, in utter disregard of his established custom, came
+striding towards her. Ladies on the other galleries were as quick to
+notice it as Grace herself, and several pairs of inquisitive eyes
+followed his movements as he stopped before her and, raising his helmet
+in salutation, stood, with one foot resting upon the lower step,
+looking up into her face.
+
+Oddly enough, her first impulse on seeing him approach was to retire
+within-doors and await his coming in the parlor. Glancing along the
+line, she could see that the unusual circumstance of the adjutant’s
+going to greet her instead of direct to his own quarters had attracted
+wide attention. Her cheek flushed, and her eyes looked all the brighter
+in consequence; perhaps, too, she bit her scarlet lip in the effort to
+quiet the strange and tremulous emotion with which she marked this,
+the first overt act on his part since her arrival at Camp Sandy that
+savored of “attention” to her. Little as it might have been among the
+other officers, it meant something where Truscott was concerned. The
+instant he had returned sabre after passing the officer of the day, and
+before the guard had wheeled to left into line, he faced about and went
+to the spot where she stood, and now here he was looking steadfastly
+up into her eyes.
+
+“Are you sure you feel entirely equal to another ride this morning,
+Miss Pelham?” he asked.
+
+“I am; and I shall not rest until I have subdued that scamp of a horse.”
+
+“Then, if the hour suit you, we will start at ten o’clock,” he said,
+smiling at the determination of her manner. “I see you are eager to
+try conclusions with Ranger again, and there is nothing to prevent my
+starting early, provided I go at once to the office.” And with that,
+suddenly as he came, he left her. She could hardly realize that he had
+been there at all. Turning to enter the house, she saw that Mrs. Tanner
+had stepped out upon her piazza, and Mrs. Tanner’s eyes were fixed upon
+the retiring form of Mr. Truscott, who, without backward glance, was
+walking rapidly towards headquarters.
+
+Only the day before, despite the vague distrust inspired by her
+mother’s innuendoes, Grace had been won to the gentle-mannered little
+lady by the interest and attention she had shown her after the runaway.
+She wanted to greet her with a cordial “good-morning,” but for a moment
+Mrs. Tanner absolutely did not seem to be aware of her presence, and
+once more the feeling of aversion struggled for the mastery. Grace
+seized the knob of the door and turned it sharply, even then looking
+back at her neighbor, and just as she did so Mrs. Tanner caught sight
+of her; a bright smile of recognition flashed over her face, and with a
+gesture of invitation she stepped blithely forward as though to speak.
+Grace Pelham simply bowed calmly, yes, coldly and entered the house;
+and Mrs. Raymond, two doors farther north, saw the whole thing, and
+went over at once to ask Mrs. Turner what she thought of it.
+
+It was a “troop drill” morning, and at nine o’clock all the officers
+except the staff and the officer of the day were summoned to their
+commands. For two years previous drills of any kind had been the
+exception rather than the rule in the —th, for the entire regiment
+had been occupied incessantly in mountain and desert scouting. Now,
+however, Colonel Pelham had succeeded in assembling six of his
+companies at headquarters, and had inaugurated a system of instruction
+which promised well for the discipline and _morale_ of the command.
+By half-past nine the flats to the north of the garrison were alive
+with blue-bloused troopers and gay with fluttering guidons, while the
+trumpets, softened by distance, floated their stirring skirmish-calls
+back to the spectators on the upper end of the parade; and here it was
+that most of the ladies had gathered to watch the lively evolutions up
+the valley.
+
+Followed by his orderly the colonel himself had ridden past the group
+on his way to superintend the drills, and to note with practised and
+critical eye the work of his officers and men. And so it happened that
+when ten o’clock came and Mr. Truscott with the horses arrived at
+the Pelhams’ door, not a lady in the garrison took note of the fact.
+Grace promptly appeared, was swung up into saddle before she realized
+that her foot was in his hand, and in another instant found herself
+riding at a quiet walk down the slope to the south, out of sight of the
+denizens of officers’ row.
+
+Beyond a quiet commendation of her punctuality and a request that she
+should “ride him on the snaffle,” for a few moments Mr. Truscott had
+not spoken. He was narrowly watching Ranger’s eye and the tapering,
+sensitive ears, which kept tilting back and forth in response to the
+varying emotions of that unrepentant quadruped. As for Grace, she
+sat as gracefully erect, as jauntily unconcerned to all appearance,
+as though the runaway of the day before were a matter of no earthly
+consequence; but her hand, light and low, felt warily the champing
+mouth, and the curb-rein lay within the pressure of her fingers, where
+a mere inch of a turn of the wrist would bring it into play. She noted
+that Truscott rode well forward, close to Ranger’s head, noted the
+steady gaze of his dark eye, and a feeling of security stole over her.
+Ranger might curvet as he pleased, no movement could be too sudden for
+that vigilant watch or for that ready hand. Another moment and side by
+side the horses plunged breast-deep into the rapid waters of the Sandy,
+forded the stream, and disappeared among the willows on the eastern
+bank.
+
+It must have been somewhere about eleven o’clock when Lady Pelham
+descended to the dining-room in quest of toast and tea. These not being
+entirely to her liking, she fussily wandered through her parlor for
+a few moments, tossing over the books and magazines as was her wont
+when mentally disturbed, and finally betaking herself to the piazza.
+Recall had sounded, and the troops were returning from drill. Some
+little distance up the row she saw her husband, seated on his horse,
+conversing with one or two officers. She had not met him since the
+previous evening, and she was not eager to meet him now. That he was
+greatly incensed at her violent conduct of yesterday she felt morally
+certain; and whether she had bettered her cause, as she regarded
+Glenham’s suit, she felt by no means assured. Presently the colonel
+came riding towards her, and she prepared herself to greet him as she
+thought might be most soothing to his ruffled feelings; but to her
+amaze and wrath he actually pulled up his horse the instant he caught
+sight of her, and then, with a most flagrant counterfeit of interest
+and cordiality,—so she deemed it,—he dismounted at Mrs. Tanner’s
+door-step, and, bidding the orderly take his horse to the stable,
+entered into a lively conversation with that lady, who, with Rosalie,
+was awaiting the return of the captain from drill. Angry again, and
+in good earnest, her ladyship marched within-doors and spent half an
+hour in the preparation of a lecture to be delivered on her lord’s
+return. Then it occurred to her that she had not seen Grace since
+breakfast-time, when that dutiful daughter was tiptoeing out of the
+maternal bedroom. Inquiry of the housemaid resulted in the information
+that Miss Grace had gone riding.
+
+“With whom?” asked Mrs. Pelham, shortly.
+
+“Mr. Truscott, mum,” was the reply.
+
+For an instant her ladyship stood transfixed. Then she abruptly left
+the room, mounted the stairs, took from her desk a letter she had
+received only a few days before, read it carefully over, thrust it
+in her pocket, and returned to the piazza. Colonel Pelham was still
+talking blithely to Mrs. Tanner, and the captain, holding Rosalie on
+his knee, was toying with the child’s pretty hair. It made a cheery
+picture, that group at the neighboring quarters, and Mrs. Tanner,
+catching sight of her lonely ladyship, forgiving the slights and
+coldnesses she had received at her hands, rose, and, coming to the
+end of the gallery, invited the elder lady to come and join them, but
+retired in unmistakable mortification at the very discourteous manner
+in which her invitation was received. Pelham himself colored with
+indignation and speedily rose, bade them good-morning, and with a fixed
+determination to bring his wife to a realizing sense of the outrageous
+nature of her conduct, accosted her briefly with, “I have something
+to say to you, Dolly; come into the house,” and led the way into the
+parlor. There he turned and faced her, and was surprised to note how
+preternaturally calm and complacent she looked.
+
+“Sit down,” he said, and without a word she obeyed. “I had grave reason
+to want to see you earlier this morning. Now I have still graver reason
+to claim your attention to what I have to say. Are you at leisure? Have
+you time now to listen to me?” he continued, striving to speak gently
+and quietly.
+
+“I am entirely at your service, Colonel Pelham,” was the stately reply.
+
+“Very well, then,” and as he spoke he paced slowly up and down the
+floor. “Yesterday you saw fit to behave with infinite discourtesy and
+rudeness to Mr. Ray, my guest, at dinner,—a gentleman whom I have
+every reason to regard highly personally, and an officer of whom the
+regiment is proud. Yesterday morning”—and here his voice began to
+tremble—“he saved your daughter’s life. Last evening you actually
+insulted him at our table. The reasons you gave were frivolous, if not
+absolute falsifications. I trust that a night of reflection has taught
+you the propriety of your making amends to him as well as to Grace in
+the near future.” He paused and looked at her. She was seated placidly
+in the easy-chair, her hard eyes fixed on a tiny statuette on the
+mantel. She never looked more imperturbable in her life, and he could
+not understand it. The mere fact that he should have been allowed to
+address a few score of words of reproof to her uninterrupted was in
+itself so unusual as to be absolutely disconcerting. She answered not
+a word. So he went on again: “Ten minutes ago, in my presence, you
+rudely, very rudely rejected a courteous invitation from Mrs. Tanner.
+I have seen other instances of your discourtesy to her, but nothing so
+glaring as this, and now I have called you here to listen to my opinion
+of your conduct——”
+
+“One moment, Colonel Pelham,” she calmly spoke.
+
+“Hey?” he stammered, at the placidity of her tone and manner.
+
+“One moment, I say. Let me suggest that before you proceed to wither
+me by your remarks upon my so-called rudeness to Mrs.—to the person
+you have mentioned, it might be as well to be sure of your ground.
+You propose calling me to account because I repel, have repelled, and
+shall repel” (now she began to warm up to her work) “every attempt
+of that woman to seek my society. Be sure of your ground, colonel.
+Do—you—_know_ Mrs. Tanner, do you think?” And with uplifted eyebrows
+and insinuating accents her ladyship looked into his flushed and
+astonished face.
+
+“Know her? Of course I do! There isn’t a more thorough lady in the
+regiment. What devil’s nonsense is this you are driving at? What do you
+mean to—to—hint or say? Speak out. I hate these feminine slurs. Who has
+dared malign her to you? or what do you dare say against her?”
+
+“_Dare!_ Colonel Pelham. _Dare!_ I warn you to guard your temper. I
+pass over what you said regarding my manner to Mr. Ray. _That_ need
+not be touched upon now, but it is high time you were made aware of
+the character of the woman you desire to force upon my acquaintance
+and your innocent daughter’s. More than that, if you cannot see the
+desperate recklessness of allowing such men as Ray and Truscott to
+monopolize your child’s society and to go riding alone with her through
+the seclusion of this out-of-the-way neighborhood, I can and do, and as
+her mother I protest against it. You hate feminine slurs, you say; then
+beware lest the slurs of the whole garrison follow Grace, innocent as
+she is, as they have followed Mrs. Tanner, innocent as she is not!”
+
+“Stop right there,” said Pelham. “Before you go one point further give
+me your authority for your insinuations against Mrs. Tanner, that I may
+judge whether it be even worth my while to hear a specific statement.”
+And his voice was harsh and strained, his eye troubled.
+
+“Your past experience _ought_ to have told you that I never made an
+allegation I could not substantiate,” said madame, majestically (“It
+hasn’t, by a—gulp—good deal,” said the colonel, _sotto voce_), “but
+you pay no attention to my warnings. I tell you no idle gossip. Ask
+any lady in the garrison, any lady in the regiment, ay, any lady in
+Arizona, how Mrs. Tanner stands, and you will then begin to believe me.
+My ‘authority’ is legion, Colonel Pelham.”
+
+“Then of what do you accuse her?” he demanded, wheeling sharply about
+and again confronting her.
+
+“Of shameful or shameless (as you please) conduct with an officer in
+this regiment during her husband’s absence in the field.”
+
+“Trash and nonsense! I don’t believe a word of it.”
+
+“Ask any lady in the garrison.”
+
+“I wouldn’t believe one of them against her. The whole thing is some
+vile concoction of jealous and malignant women, who envy her the
+respect in which she is held. By the eternal! Mrs. Pelham, you will do
+well to keep out of such infernal garrison scandal as this! You _would_
+do well to——”
+
+“Copy after her, I suppose you mean to say! Copy after _her_, colonel!
+Now listen——”
+
+But listen he would not. The crunching of hoofs was heard on the
+gravelly road in front, and through the blinds he had caught sight of
+Grace and Truscott on their return. He stepped eagerly to the door, but
+even before he could reach the piazza the adjutant had thrown his reins
+to the orderly and lightly swung her from the saddle. A soft flush was
+mantling her fair cheek, and the brilliant eyes seemed bathed in a
+dewy light as she glanced up from under the fringing lashes to thank
+her escort. Even as he came forth to greet them the colonel could not
+but note how radiant was her beauty, and how earnest, how grave and
+reverent was Truscott’s manner as he bent low over the shyly tendered
+hand.
+
+“It has been such a lovely ride, Mr. Truscott,” she said, “and I’m sure
+Ranger could not have gone better.”
+
+“It has been a lovely ride to me, Miss Pelham,” he replied; “and I
+hope for others yet to come, may I not?” he asked, and as he asked
+he—he could not have been thinking as he stood gazing down into her
+face—retained in his the slender hand he had taken, and for an instant
+it did not seem to her at all an unusual thing; then she suddenly but
+gently withdrew it, and her color deepened as she answered,—
+
+“Yes, indeed; I will ride with you gladly.”
+
+And Mrs. Pelham, noting every look and word, set her teeth and
+muttered, “Not one more if _I_ know it.”
+
+“Come to lunch, Truscott,” called the colonel; “we never see you
+nowadays. Come, man.”
+
+And Truscott looked first towards her, a quick, flitting glance, but
+though she spoke no word, he thought he could read a second invitation
+in the sweet eyes that for one instant met his own.
+
+“I will come, colonel, with pleasure,” he answered. “Let me sign those
+papers on my desk, and I will be here in fifteen minutes.”
+
+Then Colonel Pelham re-entered the parlor. Grace darted up-stairs to
+change her dress, and Lady Pelham turned sharply from the window to
+meet her lord.
+
+“You have asked Mr. Truscott here to lunch?” she inquired.
+
+“Certainly I have,” said he, stung by the indescribable tone of her
+query.
+
+“You consider Mr. Truscott a suitable escort for your daughter, and a
+fit person to invite to your table, I suppose?”
+
+“Suppose!” he broke forth, flashing with indignation and annoyance.
+“Suppose! Look here, Dolly, this is becoming insupportable. Last night
+it was Ray. To-day, Truscott, my adjutant, the best officer and most
+thorough gentleman in the regiment. What has got into you? You of all
+others ought to welcome him. You know he has been the means of saving
+Ralph. You——”
+
+“I know nothing of the kind. We owe everything to Mr. Glenham where
+Ralph is concerned, though Mr. Truscott would, doubtless, like to
+arrogate all that to himself. What I _do_ know is this, that your
+paragon of an adjutant is the man to whom Mrs. Tanner owes her fall——”
+
+She stopped suddenly, trembling at her own audacity, at the force
+and outrage of the blow she had struck, and at the horror and amaze
+in his face. For an instant she longed to unsay, at least to qualify
+her words, to avert from herself the consequences she felt sure would
+result from the vile exaggeration of which she had been guilty. The
+expression in his face frightened her. At first he glared with anger;
+then, little by little, the color died away. Incredulity, pity,
+contempt, one after another, shone in the steady eyes which never left
+her face. At last, with a shrug of his shoulders, a “pa-a-h!” of utter
+disgust, he turned coldly and deliberately away. At the door he paused.
+
+“I _thought_ the whole thing was a lie before. _Now_ I know it.”
+
+She fairly rushed towards him. “You shall _not_ go until you have
+heard all. You must hear it now. You say”—seizing his arm—“you would
+believe no lady in this garrison. The time was when you used to hold
+Mrs. Treadwell up to me as the model of all an army wife should be.
+Perhaps you would ignore her opinion?”
+
+“Mrs. Treadwell would never be mixed up in any such disgraceful
+business as the circulation of such a story,” he answered, coldly.
+
+“But it _was_ Mrs. Treadwell,” she panted. “She herself who saw—who
+discovered the whole thing. She who warned the others that what they
+suspected was—was true.”
+
+“You have been told this, perhaps,” he said, weary of the matter and of
+her, striving to pull away from her grasp; “but these women’s yarns are
+too malicious, too utterly base and baseless to be listened to. I don’t
+believe Mrs. Treadwell ever said such a thing.”
+
+“You wouldn’t believe it, I suppose, if she herself were to write and
+tell you.”
+
+“She never would write such a thing.”
+
+“_Wouldn’t_ she, Colonel Pelham? Read that.” And her ladyship forced
+into his hand the letter she had secreted in her pocket. Barely
+glancing at the superscription, he thrust it aside.
+
+“I will not read it. It is—well, it _may_ be hers, of course, but I do
+not desire to see it.”
+
+“See or hear it you must. You accuse and believe me guilty of slander
+and malice. I tell you that the proof of my words is here. Be just,
+Colonel Pelham. I have some rights in this matter.”
+
+Wearily his head bent forward on his breast, and his hands clinched in
+the paroxysm of disgust that had seized him.
+
+“Read, if you must,” he said, finally; “I will hear what she has to
+say.” And read she did, slowly, emphatically, what follows.
+
+                                 “FORT HAYS, KANSAS, December 7, 18—.
+
+  “Your letter of the 23d ult. reached me yesterday, my dear Mrs.
+  Pelham, and I am greatly distressed at its contents. You give me to
+  understand that recent events have revived a story that I had hoped
+  was long since forgotten, and you indicate that for your daughter’s
+  sake it is necessary that you should know just what I know or saw. It
+  is inexpressibly painful to me to have to write upon such a subject,
+  and that I do so at all is due, first, to your urgent appeal on
+  Grace’s account; second, to the fact that I believe you have heard a
+  most exaggerated statement of what took place at Fort Phœnix. Under
+  these circumstances I yield to your request.
+
+  “Mr. Truscott arrived suddenly at Phœnix. Captain Tanner’s quarters
+  adjoined ours, and for a month or more Mrs. Tanner and I had been
+  on terms of intimacy. I felt for her a warm and constantly-growing
+  friendship, even admiration, and had been in the daily habit of
+  running in to see her at any hour, never thinking of knocking at
+  the door. Hearing of Mr. Truscott’s arrival and knowing how warm a
+  regard she and her husband entertained for him, I dropped my work
+  and hurried in to tell her, as I supposed, of his presence. The
+  front door was open, the parlor-door partially so, and, as I entered
+  hastily, I could not but see what I did. Mrs. Tanner was sobbing in
+  his arms as he stood facing the door, her back was towards me, and
+  she was looking up into his face, he down into hers. Neither of them
+  observed me, and I withdrew at once.
+
+  “Two weeks afterwards, to my infinite regret, I, in strict
+  confidence, told what I had seen to a lady now no longer with the
+  regiment. She had heard some very cruel rumors, and—well, I cannot
+  justify my action at all. I told her, and, beyond all doubt, the
+  story has reached you in hideously expanded form. Beyond this I know
+  nothing, and I beg that you will do all in your power to suppress any
+  mention of even this that I have told you.
+
+  “It is hard to believe, but you compel me to believe that what
+  took place at Phœnix was but the preface to the recent events you
+  allude to. With all my heart I hope that all may be satisfactorily
+  explained. She was my ideal of a true woman, and Colonel Treadwell
+  thought _him_ a perfect gentleman and soldier.
+
+  “I have no heart to write of ordinary news or gossip. You will, of
+  course, welcome the order relieving you from duty in Arizona and
+  bringing you all East. Give much love to Grace, and tell her how I
+  wish I could see her now. We have heard so much about her from Mr.
+  Sprague and Mr. Walker of last year’s class. You do not mention Mr.
+  Glenham, and they did.
+
+         “Very sincerely yours,
+
+                          “E. G. TREADWELL.”
+
+During the reading of this letter Colonel Pelham had stood motionless.
+Little by little the lines upon his brow grew deeper, and his mouth set
+firm and rigid. An ashy gray replaced the flush on face and forehead.
+He passed his hand wonderingly once or twice across his eyes, and at
+last stretched it forth.
+
+“Let me see that one moment,” he said; and, taking it, he glanced over
+the pages, scrutinized the signature, and then, with an irrepressible
+shudder, handed it back.
+
+She stood in silence before him. Well she knew that now it was no time
+to speak. The blow had struck home. She watched him as again he passed
+his hand along his forehead in that dazed, almost helpless manner, and
+at last in a voice hoarse and strange he spoke:
+
+“Say no word of this to any one. I—I shall think it all over. There
+is—there must be some mistake, some explanation. Do you mean,” he
+asked, with sudden vehemence, “that they assert worse than this of
+her—of him?”
+
+“They do,” was her answer. And without a word he turned and left
+the house. Going to the side-windows, she followed him with her
+eyes. With bent head and slow, uncertain steps he walked a few yards
+towards his office, whither the adjutant had gone, but, as though
+suddenly recollecting himself, he turned abruptly and went to the
+bluff-side east of the post. There she lost sight of him, and with
+vague uneasiness she left the parlor and sought her room. Presently
+Grace’s voice, blithe, low, and happy, was heard. The sweet words of
+a favorite song came floating back through the hallway, and her light
+footsteps went dancing down the stairs and into the empty parlor. “More
+like herself than she has been for days,” thought the mother, as she
+listened to the thrill and gladness that rose in every mellow note.
+Were her efforts, then, all in vain? Had she been too unwary in her
+guard? Had she allowed her, after all, to become interested in this
+man, and that, too, when fortune, position, independence, luxury, lay
+at her feet? Bathing her hot face in lavender-water, her ladyship stood
+in deep anxiety, even distress, before her mirror. She had seen nothing
+of Glenham that morning; he had not even come to inquire after Grace.
+What could that mean? Then how had it happened, too, that, despite
+all her warnings, Grace had gone riding with Truscott? She could not
+control her annoyance. Down she went into the parlor to investigate. It
+was the first meeting of mother and daughter that day, for Grace still
+believed that her mother had been asleep when she entered her room
+before breakfast. The girl had by no means forgotten her ladyship’s
+conduct of the previous day, and her kiss of greeting, though dutiful,
+was not warm and loving as of yore. Her song, too, ceased the instant
+she heard the stairs creaking under the maternal weight.
+
+“You look unusually well, Grace,” madame deigned to say. “I was not
+aware that you proposed riding again to-day, much less that you would
+ride with Mr. Truscott.”
+
+“I went to your room to tell you, mother, but you were asleep. As for
+riding with Mr. Truscott, that was father’s doing, and I have to thank
+him for a very pleasant morning.”
+
+Something in the calm glance of her daughter’s fearless eyes awed yet
+provoked her ladyship. Had it come to this, that Grace, always so
+docile, dutiful, and yielding before, was now asserting independence of
+the mother’s counsel or control? It stung her all the more, doubled
+her resentment to realize that her own conduct had been such as to
+warrant, even to dictate, the withdrawal of much of the trust and
+deference that was a mother’s due. She struggled a moment with the
+feeling of pride and love evoked by her daughter’s radiant beauty as
+she stood before her. But the thought of all that was at stake nerved
+her to other efforts.
+
+“Have you forgotten, then, the warnings you have received as to Mr.
+Truscott?”
+
+“I have forgotten nothing, mother. I simply cannot and do not believe
+what you have heard; and I cannot help liking a man who has been so
+true a friend to Ralph.”
+
+“What do you know, pray, of his relations to Ralph?”
+
+“Nothing but what Ralph’s letters have told me, of course, and what he
+himself admitted to-day——”
+
+“_What_ did he admit? How did you come to speak of such a thing?” asked
+Mrs. Pelham, alarmed and angry.
+
+“I do not remember what he said, mother. I do not know that he admitted
+anything. I was talking of Ralph and of Ralph’s last letter to me,
+and—and you know how gratefully he wrote of Mr. Truscott. How could I
+help telling him how glad I was that Ralph had found so good a friend?
+Ralph said he owed everything to Mr. Truscott. And—well, he really did
+not say anything except to protest that he was only too glad to be
+of any service to father’s boy, but that really he had done nothing
+deserving of any thanks.”
+
+“Then he _had_ the conscience to admit that! Why could he not have gone
+further and told you what he perfectly well knew,—_who_ it was to whom
+all our thanks were due, our unspeakable gratitude, in fact?”
+
+Grace opened her eyes in wonderment, but before she could reply the
+tramping of feet was heard on the piazza, and the hall-door burst open.
+
+“Come right in, Truscott,” she heard her father say; and the colonel,
+holding an open telegraphic despatch in his hand, hastily entered,
+followed by the adjutant. The latter bowed silently to the ladies, the
+former threw himself into a chair, and, with perplexity and some little
+trace of excitement on his face, read through the closely-written page.
+Then he looked up.
+
+“Two troops to start at once, Truscott. Can we get scouts down from the
+reservation by sunset?”
+
+“An orderly can go at once, sir. Shall I send the order?”
+
+“Yes; we want twenty of their best.” And Mr. Truscott disappeared.
+
+“What is it, colonel?” demanded Mrs. Pelham. “What is wrong? Another
+outbreak?”
+
+“The general directs me to send out a command to hunt up the Apaches in
+the Tonto basin,” he replied shortly, “and he may be down here himself.”
+
+“Who will have to go?” she asked, anxiously.
+
+“Who? Oh, I don’t know. It goes according to roster. Truscott keeps
+that,” he answered, rising and pacing up and down the floor. “I’m
+sorry, too,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I’m sorry, for now
+or never is the time to nab this band of Eskiminzin’s, and—I’d like
+to select the officer to command. Some men have no idea of handling
+Indians.”
+
+“Who are the best for such duty?” persisted madame.
+
+“They’re all good, Dolly; they’re all good so far as zeal and that
+sort of thing goes,” he answered, impatiently, “only Tanner or Raymond
+or some of the youngsters like Ray and Stryker, seem to have better
+luck—or something. I wish this were Tanner’s detail.”
+
+“So does Mr. Truscott, no doubt,” was the dry rejoinder. And looking
+sharply, angrily at her, the colonel stopped short in his walk, and was
+about to speak, when the sight of Grace’s troubled face restrained him.
+Another moment, and Truscott knocked and re-entered.
+
+“Whose companies are first for detail?” asked Pelham, the instant he
+appeared.
+
+“Tanner’s and Ray’s, sir,” was the quiet, prompt reply.
+
+Despite his effort the colonel started, and the color leaped to his
+forehead. Madame gave an audible gasp.
+
+“I thought Tanner—at least I understood that Raymond’s company had been
+longer in garrison than Captain Tanner’s,” he said.
+
+“Tanner’s only went to the reservation on this last scout, colonel,”
+answered the adjutant, very respectfully, “and Raymond’s has been out
+twice since August.”
+
+“True. I had forgotten it. I’m heartily glad that it is Tanner’s turn;
+he is the very man to settle this business. Well, notify them at once,
+Truscott, then come to lunch. I declare I had forgotten it. I would
+like to see Tanner myself; as soon as possible, though, if you will
+tell him.” And bowing again, the adjutant withdrew.
+
+Mrs. Pelham had insinuated that Mr. Truscott would be glad that it was
+Captain Tanner’s detail for scouting duty. Very far from glad did Mr.
+Truscott look as he knocked at Captain Tanner’s door. It was opened
+by little Rosalie herself, her face all beaming with smiles when she
+caught sight of her friend. Jack bent and raised her in his arms,
+tenderly kissing the bonny cheek.
+
+“Run and tell papa Uncle Jack wants to see him,” he said, as he set
+her down; and as she trotted away he seated himself at the window and
+covered his face with his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. The
+dejection of his attitude struck Tanner the instant he entered, but
+before he could speak the adjutant rose.
+
+“What news, Jack?”
+
+“Another scout; you to command; start to-night.” And the two men looked
+into one another’s eyes without a word for a moment. Then Truscott held
+forth his hand and took that of his friend.
+
+“The thing has been worrying me ever since Craig and Fanshawe got in. I
+knew the chief would be apt to send out detachments from here, and—the
+detail would come on you—just at this time.”
+
+“It is what I expected,” said Tanner; “but it is pretty rough to have
+it come just now.”
+
+“Does Mrs. Tanner know?” asked Truscott.
+
+“No, she hasn’t heard, though the other ladies in the garrison seemed
+to know all about it; but she never goes anywhere, and I could not bear
+to tell her until it became a certainty. To-night, do you say?” he
+asked, suddenly.
+
+“Yes, to-night,” said Truscott, sadly. “I suppose you will have to
+start soon after sunset.”
+
+“And it was just at tattoo that—that baby died, five years ago. It will
+come hard to her; that’s all that troubles me.”
+
+And for all answer Truscott could only press his hand.
+
+“The colonel wants to see you as soon as possible; he is home now.
+Tanner, I wish to heaven I could take this detail for you. Won’t you
+let me tell him? Raymond would be only too glad to go; and there’s Ray,
+who goes anyhow. He knows every inch of that country, and it would be a
+splendid thing for him if he could have the command.”
+
+“Tell nobody, Jack. I never shirked a duty, big or little, yet, and
+I won’t now. If it were not for poor Nellie I wouldn’t ask anything
+better than this chance at old ’Skiminzin. It is the breaking it to
+her I dread. She’s up-stairs now with—with the little one’s shoes
+and stockings. She thought I did not see her get them from the baby
+trunk, but I did. My God, Jack! it’s breaking it to her that upsets
+me. I’ll go and see the colonel first.” And taking his forage-cap,
+Tanner and Truscott went forth together, the latter crossing the parade
+and proceeding to the camp in rear of the garrison. It was after one
+o’clock, after lunch-time. The mess-room of the bachelor officers
+was deserted, as he could see. Several of the juniors—Crane, Dana,
+and Hunter—were grouped around the doorway of the court-martial room
+awaiting the arrival of the other members of the court, then trying
+some cases among the enlisted men, but none of them had seen Ray; he
+had not been to lunch, had not been seen since morning drill. Truscott
+said nothing, but continued on his way towards camp until he had passed
+beyond the company quarters, then turning sharp to his left, he rapidly
+descended the hill and took the shortest cut for “the store.”
+
+“Good-day, Mr. Truscott,” exclaimed the barkeeper, as he entered.
+“Don’t often see you down here, sir,” he went on, eager to be civil
+to the officer who represented so much influence and power at
+headquarters. “Looking for anybody?” he asked, as Truscott’s keen
+glance took in the other occupants of the main room, then wandered to
+the green-baize door of the card-room beyond.
+
+“Who are in there?” he briefly asked, in a low tone, as he noted the
+silence that had fallen upon the group of packers and quartermaster’s
+men who were loafing about.
+
+The barkeeper winked confidentially, and whispered, “Little game going
+on. Some of the boys down from Prescott. The doctor’s there, and Ray
+and Wilkins.”
+
+“Tell Mr. Ray I want to see him, around at the side-door,” said
+Truscott, and left the room.
+
+In another moment Ray had joined him, and Ray’s face was flushed and
+his eyes glassy.
+
+“What’s up, Jack?” he queried.
+
+“Scout, and you’re wanted instanter,” said Jack, gravely.
+
+“Hurray for hurrah! Who is it this time?”
+
+“Eskiminzin, I believe. It’s over your old stamping-ground. Tonto
+basin, anyway.”
+
+“Bully! When do we light out?”
+
+“This evening. No time to be lost. Better come up and get your men
+ready right off.”
+
+Ray hesitated and looked grave. “By Jove, Jack, that’s bad! I dropped
+a month’s pay last night, and now the luck’s just beginning to turn.
+I want to quit even if I can, but this scout business knocks it. D—n
+the odds, though! I’m better out roughing it than fooling around here,
+where I’m only in the way. Who else goes?” he asked, suddenly.
+
+“Tanner and you with your troops and some twenty Apache-Mohaves.”
+
+“What subs? Don’t Glenham go?”
+
+“Probably not, as he is Canker’s only assistant now. Why should he?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know, only if I were in his place I’d want to. I’ll be up
+in ten minutes, Jack.” And with that Mr. Ray returned to the card-room
+to wind up his connection with the game, and Truscott went direct to
+his colonel’s.
+
+“What the mischief does Ray mean?” thought he, as he walked rapidly
+along. “He has been drinking, to be sure, but knows well enough what he
+is about. ‘If I were in Glenham’s place I’d want to go.’ What _does_ he
+mean?”
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+The duty performed of notifying the troop commanders of their detail,
+Mr. Truscott proceeded at once to rejoin the colonel, and found Captain
+Tanner just leaving.
+
+“I am very sorry you will not stay and lunch with us,” Pelham was
+saying, “but I understand well enough that you will want every moment
+of your time. I shall be out to see you off, though, and shall hope to
+meet you again meantime.” Then, as the captain walked away and Grace
+smilingly welcomed Truscott and slipped her hand within her father’s
+arm as though to call his attention to the fact that luncheon was
+waiting, the latter stood gazing after Tanner’s receding form.
+
+“The more I see of that man the more I like him,” he said, musingly.
+“He is one of the most soldierly fellows I ever met; and yet, do you
+know, Truscott, it seemed to me that he was anything but glad of this
+detail?” And the colonel turned and faced his adjutant, Grace still
+resting her hand upon his arm.
+
+Before he could collect his thoughts for the reply evidently expected
+of him, Mr. Truscott became aware of the fact that Mrs. Pelham had
+suddenly appeared at the hall-door and was intently regarding him. His
+hesitation instantly attracted the colonel’s attention.
+
+“Has he any reason for not wishing to go?” he asked, and there was
+an unusual tone as of annoyance in his voice, something sharp and
+unnatural.
+
+Truscott colored slightly, but spoke slowly and calmly in reply.
+Involuntarily he glanced at Grace, and was surprised at the intent
+expression with which her eyes, too, were fixed upon him. Instantly,
+however, she looked away.
+
+“Nothing, colonel, that he would allow to stand in the way of his
+going. Indeed, he will not thank me for admitting that the detail was
+in the least unwelcome.”
+
+“Then you know he would rather not leave the post just at this time, do
+you, Mr. Truscott?” asked Mrs. Pelham, with a calm deliberation that
+perplexed him for days after, as again and again her manner recurred to
+him.
+
+“Captain Tanner would welcome this duty very much at any other time,
+madame,” was the answer; “but while it is hard for him to go at this
+time, he would consider it most unfriendly in me to allude to it with
+any view to having another take his place.”
+
+“Ah, I see that you are very jealous of the _rights_ of your friends.
+Some people, I fancy, would not thank you for such efforts in their
+behalf.” And the caustic emphasis on the words was so marked that the
+colonel turned sharply upon her.
+
+“What earthly business is it of yours, Mrs. Pelham? Truscott is
+perfectly right. Now _do_ hold your tongue, and don’t interfere with
+what is solely my affair. Let’s go to lunch.”
+
+“You will excuse me, please,” said her ladyship, with majestic dignity,
+looking at nobody at all. “_I_ am going to Mrs. Raymond’s.” And with
+that she swept across the piazza and up the row.
+
+“Mother breakfasted very late,” said Grace, apologetically, as she
+led the way to the dining-room, “and she rarely takes luncheon.” But
+whether she took luncheon or not, her absence on this particular
+occasion was readily forgiven.
+
+All the same, something akin to constraint had fallen upon the trio.
+The colonel had hoped to hear from Truscott a prompt disclaimer of any
+knowledge of a reason for Tanner’s not desiring to go on the scout just
+ordered, so, too, had Grace; but, to the vague distress of both, he had
+virtually admitted that he _knew_ of a reason, and would not disclose
+the nature thereof. Despite his efforts at cheery conversation, the
+colonel could not drive from his thoughts the effect of that strange
+letter of Mrs. Treadwell’s, and despite his long acquaintance with his
+wife’s reckless language at the expense of any man or woman to whom
+she took a dislike, her words of the morning had powerfully, painfully
+impressed him. All unconscious of the thoughts in his colonel’s
+perplexed head, Mr. Truscott felt certain that something had gone very
+wrong with the chief within the past twenty-four hours, and, for his
+own part, he found himself constantly oppressed with the contemplation
+of the effect the orders would have upon Mrs. Tanner. He strove to shut
+out the sorrowful picture and to fittingly respond to Grace’s efforts
+at being entertaining, but here, too, the effort was evident. What
+could it all mean? Ray’s mysterious words about Glenham, Mrs. Pelham’s
+extraordinary language and manner, the colonel’s spasmodic struggles
+to be cheery, and, above all, Grace’s odd, constrained replies to
+any allusion to Captain or Mrs. Tanner. Truscott was indeed puzzled.
+Verily, a cloud seemed to have fallen upon the house, and it was with
+absolute relief that the trio heard a quick, light footstep on the
+piazza, and the chirrupy voice of Mr. Ray inquiring for the colonel and
+the ladies. They rose and met him in the parlor.
+
+Bright as a button looked that young gentleman as he blithely greeted
+them. Even Jack, accustomed as he was to the mercurial changes of his
+comrade, was unprepared to see him so radiant; but a cold plunge-bath,
+a change of raiment, and the enlivening prospect of the work before him
+had chased away all vestige of his morning’s dissipation, and Mr. Ray
+was to all appearances the jolliest man in the garrison.
+
+“I have just left Captain Tanner, colonel, and I wanted to come in
+to see you and Miss Grace before shedding my regimentals and getting
+into war-paint, which must be in an hour from now. Jack, I’ve been to
+your quarters, and Glenham, who’s in the dumps about something, said
+you were here. Everybody knows we’re going by this time, and Glenham
+is ready to cry because it isn’t his turn. Colonel,” he exclaimed,
+suddenly, “may I see you a few moments? Please excuse me, Miss Grace.
+It is my only opportunity.” And with that Truscott and Grace were left
+alone.
+
+On the centre-table were two photograph albums, one bound in Russia
+leather and stamped with the letters G. P. in monogram.
+
+“May I look at this?” he asked.
+
+“Certainly,” she replied; yet, as he opened it, she made an involuntary
+move as though to check him.
+
+The first portrait was a cabinet-sized photograph of Mr. Glenham in his
+cadet uniform. For a moment Truscott gazed quietly at it without saying
+a word, but the tired look she had marked before when at Prescott had
+stolen over his forehead and eyes. Why should she excuse the prominence
+of that picture to him? Why make any explanation at all? He had said
+nothing; but Grace, coloring vividly, looked up in his face.
+
+“The album was a Christmas present from Mr. Glenham, two years ago,”
+she said, hurriedly, confusedly. “That is where he placed his own
+picture.”
+
+“I did quite as boyish a thing, two years ago, Miss Gracie,” said
+he, very quietly, while an amused but by no means satirical smile
+appeared under the curling moustache. “It is a most natural thing that
+he should seek to be first with you,” he added, gravely, and the dark
+hazel eyes looked steadily into her face as the words fell from his
+lips. No wonder that the deep-fringed eyelids drooped at once beneath
+the searching glance. Her color deepened, and she knew not what to
+say. _He_ knew that his words were tantamount to an impertinence, and
+yet, they had escaped him before he had weighed their meaning; he who
+usually weighed every word. He felt at once that, unexplained, his
+last remark was unjustifiable. He knew well that there was only one
+explanation which would condone such a solecism in a woman’s eyes; and
+he knew well that now, despite the estrangement of the past few weeks,
+broken only by the sweet memory of the yesterday’s ride, despite the
+open hostility of Mrs. Pelham, despite all rumors of her engagement to
+young Glenham, he loved, and loved her dearly.
+
+Instantly he realized that in this ill-judged speech he had done
+injustice to himself; possibly, nay, probably, had offended her. The
+strong hand upon the album trembled visibly; he stood for an instant,
+silent, gazing with beating heart upon the drooping head and slender
+figure before him. In the adjoining room the deep voice of the colonel
+and the eager, energetic tones of Mr. Ray could be heard in earnest
+conversation, but in the parlor all was still. Oh, that dangerous
+silence! How many an avowal has it precipitated! Grace! Grace! where is
+your tact, your presence of mind? Why do you not break the spell? Is
+it—can it be that you have penetrated the veil of his reserve; that you
+divine his thoughts; and that your woman’s heart craves the confession
+of his love?
+
+Impulsively he steps to her side, his dark eyes glowing, his lips
+firmly set; but as he speaks his voice is low and tremulous, and a
+thrill of delight flashes through every nerve as she hears it.
+
+“Forgive me, forgive me, Miss Gracie. I had no right; I did not mean to
+let such a speech escape me——”
+
+“I do not blame you. It was—why—everybody remarks it, I suppose,” she
+broke forth desperately, incoherently; “but the fault is not mine.” And
+once again the shapely head drooped upon her breast.
+
+“Then it does _not_ mean that he is foremost in——No. Do not answer me
+until you hear more. I have no right to question.” He spoke hurriedly
+and low. Then with a sudden gesture he threw back his proud head and
+stood gallantly before her. “It is your right to know my reasons, to
+know why I so far forgot myself as to speak of such a thing as Mr.
+Glenham’s relations with yourself. I had not thought to startle you so
+rudely, but, come what may, I can brook this uncertainty no longer,
+for, with all my heart and soul, I love you, I love you.”
+
+Both her slender hands are resting on the table now, as once again
+he bends eagerly over her. The room seems whirling round. She has
+heard, and a glorious, thrilling joy has seized upon her. She cannot
+speak. She dare not raise her eyes to his, yet she can almost hear the
+throbbing of his strong heart, and it finds its echo in her own. The
+next instant she knows that his firm hand is clasped upon hers; that he
+is waiting, waiting for her words. Slowly she lifts her queenly head,
+not yet daring to look up into the fervent love in the dark eyes gazing
+so yearningly upon her. She tries to speak, but all too late. Back
+from the dining-room, jubilant, beaming, absolutely detestable in his
+exuberant good spirits and undesirable presence, comes Mr. Ray.
+
+“It’s all right, Jack; the colonel says that Glenham may go with us
+provided Captain Canker will permit. Use your influence with him like
+a good fellow. Let’s go and see him now.” Then Mr. Ray falters. He
+has had time to note the surging color in Miss Pelham’s temples, the
+deep glow in Truscott’s eyes, the unmistakable embarrassment of the
+former, the preternatural gravity of the latter. “Oh!” he continues,
+irrelevantly, as the gladness suddenly dies from his face and a wistful
+expression takes its place. “You have a raft of other things to attend
+to, I suppose. I’ll go; and I won’t say good-by now, Miss Pelham.”
+With that he vanishes, and the colonel himself appears.
+
+“It seems that Glenham is eager to go with Tanner’s command, Truscott,
+so if Captain Canker has no objections I shall detail him.” He faltered
+a bit, looking somewhat nervously at Grace’s brilliant color as he
+spoke, but her cheek never paled, as he half expected to see it. “You
+might see Glenham and Canker also,” he continued, and the adjutant
+promptly took his forage-cap. Grace glanced hurriedly, timidly up into
+his face as he half turned towards the door, then impulsively extended
+her hand. One instant they met, the strong, sinewy brown hand and hers,
+so white and fragile. One instant she looked up into his eyes, and then
+with wild, exultant, joyous heart, he hastened on his mission. In that
+thrilling instant he had read his answer, and was satisfied.
+
+Meantime, where was Arthur Glenham, and how was it that during this
+entire day he had not once appeared at the colonel’s quarters?
+
+During the troop drill of the morning Mr. Ray, dismounting his men for
+a five minutes’ rest after a half-hour of sharp exercise, was occupying
+himself in a comparison of the different company commanders. Well over
+to the west of the plain Captain Turner’s chestnut sorrels and Tanner’s
+bright bays were having an enlivening though impromptu competitive
+drill. It was pretty generally conceded that these two troops were very
+evenly matched, and, except among the partisans of other companies,
+it was as generally agreed that they were much ahead of the rest of
+the regiment in point of snap and style in drill. Both captains were
+fine instructors and individually liked and respected by their men;
+whereas Canker, who really had enjoyed finer opportunities for keeping
+his men up to a moderate degree of proficiency, never could succeed in
+making anything out of them. He studied hard, he worked faithfully,
+he even furtively watched the methods of such officers as Tanner and
+Truscott, and strove to profit by what he learned in this way; but the
+cavalry officer is born, not made; and, handicapped as he was with the
+disadvantages of a bad seat, a bad hand, and a very bad temper, Canker
+found it all up-hill work. He had fine material in his company, but was
+desperately unpopular among them, so much so that none would re-enlist
+with him on the expiration of their terms of service, but would “take
+on,” as they expressed it, with other troops, notably Tanner’s and
+Turner’s. Ray’s, too, was a favorite command since he had been placed
+in charge; but its captain, now on recruiting service, had been very
+inefficient, and since his departure much of its time had been spent
+in mountain-scouting, where drills were unknown and discipline lax. It
+was Canker’s habit, when betrayed into speaking of the matter at all,
+to say that “the secret of the superiority of Tanner’s company was that
+he got his best men from me;” but in the depths of his heart he knew
+that statement to be absurd. It did not help him much to hear, as he
+did hear, in the inexplicable way in which such things are brought to
+our ears (who was it that said no man ever yet was so poor but that he
+had friends to tell him unpleasant truths about himself, or words to
+that effect?) that his men said that all they needed to make them the
+best-drilled troop in the —th was to have a captain who was capable of
+teaching them something. Altogether, drill-time was a sort of purgatory
+to both officers and men in Canker’s troop, and this morning was no
+exception. Ray quickly marked the sullen look of the faces along the
+line as they came trotting past him, the horses seeming as worried and
+jaded as the men; and as they halted and dismounted near him, it was
+easy enough for him to divine that Canker had been more than usually
+eruptive from the fact that Mr. Glenham kept at a distance from his
+captain, and stood moodily kicking at the turf. Mr. Ray himself, as has
+been hinted, had spent the greater part of the night in the card-room
+at the store, to the detriment of his pocket, but in no wise to that
+of his sunny temperament. He knew well that he had been vastly in
+Glenham’s way of late, and the consciousness of the fact made him all
+the more ready to condone the young fellow’s distant and constrained
+manner. Just now the dejection of Glenham’s whole attitude struck him
+forcibly. “I hate to see him look so glum,” he muttered. “Great Scott!
+if I had half his money, and a six-months’ leave, and the wings of
+a dove, I’d be off for the States so quick that——Hold on; would I,
+though, so long as she is here? That’s where he’s anchored; where I’d
+be, too, if I had the ghost of a show. ’Pon my soul, I believe I’ll go
+and give him a lift after drill.” And with another lingering look at
+his unconscious comrade, who had by this time thrown himself prone upon
+the ground, Mr. Ray remounted, and presently his animated voice was
+heard glibly expounding on the text of “centre forward.”
+
+Drill over, he sought Glenham’s quarters, and found the junior officer
+kicking off boots and spurs in the rear room. There was no especial
+cordiality or welcome in the latter’s voice as he said, “That you, Ray?
+Sit down. I’ll be there in a moment.”
+
+“No hurry, Glenham,” replied the other, with breezy good nature. “I
+want to glance over Truscott’s _Nation_. Got anything to drink?”
+
+“There’s bottled beer in the sideboard, but I’m afraid it’s too warm.
+Jack has some undeniable whiskey, if you prefer that.”
+
+“Where’s it at?” said Mr. Ray, briefly, and falling unconsciously into
+the vernacular of the Blue-Grass region.
+
+“Lower shelf. There’s bitters and sugar somewhere there, unless
+Bucketts cleaned us out last night. He and Jack were owling. Excuse me,
+please, Ray; I can’t.”
+
+“Sensible boy! May you never know what it is to feel a hankering for a
+cocktail!” And the tinkle of glass and stirring of spoon indicated that
+the gentleman from Kentucky was preparing some such beverage on his own
+account.
+
+Presently Glenham emerged from his bedroom and found Ray placidly
+smoking, stretched at full length in Truscott’s great canvas chair.
+
+“Glenham,” said he, “I’ve come in to talk with you a while. I’m no hand
+at beating round the bush, and want to go straight at it. Are you busy?”
+
+“No,” said Glenham, hesitatingly.
+
+“Then sit down; I won’t keep you long.” And Glenham wonderingly obeyed.
+
+For a moment there was silence, Ray puffing nervously at his pipe. Then
+he laid it upon the table and leaned forward.
+
+“Glenham,” he spoke, and his voice was singularly soft and
+gentle, almost as though he were speaking to a woman. “I think a
+misunderstanding worse than an open rupture; and for some time past,
+you who used to like me better, I believe, than you did any man in the
+regiment but Truscott, have been cold and constrained in your manner
+towards me. I am not going to ask you why. I know well enough, and I
+don’t blame you. Whatever may be the result of what I have to say to
+you, there shall be no excuse for further misunderstanding. It may
+not result in the restoration of your friendship for me, but it will
+relieve you from any indecision or embarrassment. Pardon me, now, if
+I speak of a very delicate matter. We all know that you are very much
+attached to Miss Pelham. Indeed, there are not lacking those who say
+that you are actually engaged to her. If this be true, I cannot excuse
+my conduct in the least. (“It is not true,” said Glenham, shading his
+face with his hand.) But up to last evening I thought it a matter in
+which—in which we—well, I thought it was a free-for-all race, owners
+up, and it might be a fair field and no favor.” He finished abruptly
+and in evident great embarrassment. Then he rose and commenced pacing
+the floor.
+
+“Hang it, Glenham! if I am clumsy in my language it’s because—because
+the thing has struck nearer home than you imagine. I admired her from
+the very first, but I did not know what it meant until—until she
+nearly slipped from her horse yesterday and fainted. (Glenham winced
+as though stung, but still sat in silence.) I did not know what it
+meant to me, I did not know what it meant to you until she lay there
+so white and still, and you rode up with a face as white as her own.
+Last night my eyes were further opened. I won’t tell you how; it isn’t
+necessary. Only this, Glenham: if you think my conduct has been unfair
+or unfriendly, you can afford to forget it and forgive it now, when
+I tell you that I have no earthly hope in the matter, and that even
+if it were possible for me to win a thought from her beyond—beyond
+frank, friendly liking or gratitude possibly for the simple piece of
+luck yesterday, I would be a whelp to try and do it. Why, Glenham, I
+haven’t a cent in the world; I’m swamped in debt. What, in God’s name,
+_have_ I to offer her? Last night I left her house perfectly satisfied
+of two things,—that she was the dearest thing on earth to me, and that
+I wasn’t worth two straws to her or anybody else, probably. I haven’t
+had a happy night of it, man. I saw clear enough what was before me,
+and I went down and played poker all night nearly to keep from thinking
+of the thing, as though that would do any good. It has just come to
+this, Glenham: I’ve got to get away from here, and I’m going. I can’t
+win—I’m not worth the love of that sweet girl, and I won’t stand in the
+way of a man who is worthy and can. When I watched you at drill this
+morning it all came over me, how you must have been cut up by my goings
+on.” And now Ray’s voice was trembling, and a suspicious moisture was
+gathering in his eyes. “Arthur, because I’m not worth a woman’s love
+you need not think me unworthy a man’s friendship. Forgive me for the
+trouble I’ve caused you, old fellow, and let us be friends again.”
+
+“Ray, I—I beg _your_ pardon!” exclaimed Glenham, springing from his
+seat, dashing his hand across his eyes and seizing the outstretched
+gauntlet. “I was a fool, I suppose. Everything seemed going against
+me. I thought—hang it! I think now that there was no chance for me. It
+turned me against everybody, I suppose.”
+
+“Well, this ends the turn against me, does it not?” said Ray, with
+a wintry, cheerless smile, but still grasping cordially the hand of
+his friend. “I’ll soon be out of your way, and she’ll forget my—my
+ebullition of yesterday, if indeed she heard it at all.”
+
+“Why do you go at all, Ray? What is that for?”
+
+“Because then I’ll get away from seeing her every day or hour. Lord,
+how I wish there were a scout or a shindy! There’s going to be a
+horse-board mighty soon, and Wickham or Bright will help me on to that.
+It’s the only thing I know anything about. So now, I’m off.” And he
+turned to the door despite Glenham’s efforts to detain him. There he
+turned again, and, with a resumption of his old light, reckless manner,
+exclaimed,—
+
+“’Pon my word, I feel more like a Christian since we’ve had this short
+talk than I have in months. Arthur, you have my blessing. Go in and
+win. That’s what I’ll do, too,—down at the store. Lucky at cards,
+unlucky in love, you know. The Prescott crowd rather scooped me last
+night, and I’ll go down and give them a riffle now.”
+
+“Then hold on one moment, Ray. I mean to drink your health, if it
+_is_ against my rules. It’s nothing but sherry, but it’s sherry you’ll
+like.” And from a locker he produced a brown, portly bottle and some
+fragile glasses. “These only come out on swell occasions, Ray, but—this
+is one I’ll never forget.”
+
+“Never mind that, Glenham. Here’s happiness and success to you. Your
+devotion deserves it.”
+
+“Do you know, Ray, that’s just what gets me,” said the junior,
+slangily, but with sad earnestness, as he set down his half-emptied
+glass. “Devotion don’t seem to do any good. I almost—I almost believe
+I’ve been an abject slave since she—since Miss Pelham came out. It
+hurts me somehow.”
+
+For a moment Ray hesitated. Then he too set down his wine-glass and
+pondered a few seconds, looking the while at the trouble in Glenham’s
+face. At last he broke forth,—
+
+“I don’t know what you’ll think of what I say, but ’pon my word,
+Glenham, I believe you’ve hit on the truth. There _is_ such a thing as
+being too devoted, in my opinion. Look here! Did you see Truscott catch
+that rascal of a Ranger yesterday? You, you remember, went galloping
+after him wherever he went; you were all eagerness and excitement, just
+bent on catching the scamp; he saw it, knew it, and it was just fun to
+him to lead you a race. Then Truscott hauled you off and took the chase
+instead, and see how he managed it. He just let on to Ranger that he
+didn’t care a cuss whether he was loose or not,—might run to Halifax
+for all he’d do to stop him; he just rides off to one side, and sure as
+a gun the horse turns right round and goes running up to inquire what
+such indifference means. I tell you, Glenham, lots of women are just
+like horses; that is, the nice ones are, and I’m paying some of them
+a high compliment in saying so. Just so long as you go tagging round
+after one she’ll lead you a dance all over creation; it’s all fun to
+her: she’s sure of you, you know; but haul off for a while and leave
+her to herself, and let on that you’ve tired of that sort of thing and
+mean to swear off, you’ll find that it will bring her round if she
+cares anything whatever for you. If she doesn’t, why, the sooner you
+know it the better. Now I’ve been preaching, I suppose, but you try
+it. Get every scouting detail you can; don’t mope around the post. Now
+forgive my bluntness, Glenham, and—and good luck, old fellow.”
+
+With that he was gone.
+
+Some hours later Glenham’s servant entered and stood hesitatingly at
+the doorway. Glenham looked up from his writing. “What is it?” he asked.
+
+“Big scout going out, sir,—two companies; but it ain’t our fellows.”
+
+Down went pen and desk upon the floor, and, seizing his forage-cap,
+Glenham rushed forth in search of Ray and Truscott. Failing to find
+the adjutant at the office he hurried to Ray’s camp, where that young
+gentleman was rubbing head, chest, and arms into a glow after a cold
+hath.
+
+“Come right in, Glenham. Didn’t I say the luck was bound to turn? or
+did I prudently refrain for fear it wouldn’t? This is going to be the
+boss scout of the season, and now’s your chance. I wouldn’t miss it for
+six months’ pay, and the Lord only knows what I wouldn’t do for that in
+spot cash.”
+
+“Just what I came to see you about, Ray. Do you think you can get the
+colonel to let me go with you?”
+
+“I’ll try it, anyhow. He will like you all the better for wanting to
+go. I was struck all of a heap for a minute when Truscott came down to
+warn me; but even poker pales before a chance like this.”
+
+“How’d you come out?” asked Glenham.
+
+“Nearly even, after all; and I’d have knocked some of those fellows
+endwise if there had been a little more time. I was just hauling in the
+pots when Jack called me out.”
+
+Ten minutes afterwards Ray departed on his mission to the colonel’s,
+with what success has already been seen. Then a visit to Captain
+Canker had been in order, and there too the diplomatic Ray, after a
+long conversation, had carried his point, for Canker was one of those
+peculiar company commanders (and there are many who in this respect
+strongly resemble him) by whom the subalterns attached to his troop
+are regarded as a species of personal property, and it was not to be
+supposed that such a concession as was asked for Mr. Glenham could be
+granted without much demur and without a long dissertation, in which
+his shortcomings as a subaltern, and his captain’s long suffering,
+patience, and consideration as a commander, formed the subject of the
+monologue. Ray listened with exemplary docility, and Truscott, who had
+come in to assist according to the colonel’s directions, found that
+matters were progressing favorably under Ray’s management, and went off
+to see Glenham himself. Meantime stable-call had sounded, and all the
+officers were flocking thither, when Mrs. Raymond’s negro servant came
+running across the parade. He handed Glenham a note, which the young
+officer opened, glanced at the single line which formed its contents,
+changed color, paused irresolutely, and then turned and walked
+hurriedly back to Captain Raymond’s quarters. At the door he was met by
+Mrs. Pelham, who eagerly beckoned him in. Ten minutes after he appeared
+at stables, and with painfully embarrassed manner accosted Truscott,
+who was at the instant conversing with Canker, while the colonel with
+several officers were entering the “corral” of Tanner’s troop.
+
+“Jack, can I see you a moment?”
+
+“Excuse me, captain,” said Truscott; then stepping to one side with
+Glenham, and noting with surprise the changing color and downcast eye
+of his friend, “What is it, Arthur? Anything wrong?” he asked, kindly.
+
+“Is the order issued yet for me to go with this scout?”
+
+“Not yet. It will be right after stables. Dana goes too.”
+
+“Jack, I can’t—go.”
+
+For a moment there was dead silence. Then Truscott spoke,—
+
+“You know your own business best, Glenham; but did you not ask Ray to
+see the colonel and get you detailed?”
+
+“I did; yes. I—I cannot explain it, but I’ve changed my mind. Something
+I had not foreseen——” He broke off abruptly, utterly unable to
+continue, and without another word turned and walked hurriedly into the
+stable enclosure.
+
+“What’s the matter with Glenham?” asked Canker.
+
+“He has felt compelled to change his mind, and says that he cannot
+go,” replied Truscott, loyally striving to smooth matters as much as
+possible for his friend. “I’ve no doubt he has very weighty reasons.”
+And with that he went to join the colonel.
+
+Soon after retreat that evening, while yet the lingering hues of
+crimson and royal purple mantled the jagged rocks that hemmed in the
+valley from the east, a busy throng had gathered in the open space
+between the quarters and the stables. Drawn up in single rank were the
+horses of the two companies,—Tanner’s and Ray’s,—while the men in their
+rough and serviceable scouting-dress were nimbly darting about their
+steeds, tightening “cinches,” or more snugly strapping the blankets or
+canteens that swung on the saddles. A little distance away, huddled
+together in silence, were the Apache scouts who were to accompany the
+command, and behind them all, scattered here and there over the sandy
+level, or clustering about the bell-horse of the half-breed leader,
+were the hardy, devil-may-care-looking little pack-mules.
+
+Thronging about their undress uniforms and overcoats (for the December
+air was chill) were the men of the four troops who were not so lucky
+as to be of the detail, all envious of their departing comrades, and,
+soldier-like, nearly all indulging in much good-humored chaff at the
+expense of the envied ones.
+
+“It’s old Skinnin’ Jim ye’re after this time, Micky. Luk out fur that
+beautiful crop o’ yours.” An allusion to the vivid hirsute adornment of
+Private Michael Mulligan that called forth a roar of applause. “Will
+ye lave me your boots, Hoolihan? It’s the other end of ye that’ll
+need a bomb-proof.” “Don’t you get kilt, Kelly; it’ll ruin the sutler
+entirely,” etc. All of which seemed to give infinite delight to the
+surrounding crowd, and not at all to discompose the martial objects of
+the sallies.
+
+Presently Lieutenants Kay and Dana rode up and commenced a leisurely
+inspection of their commands, putting an end to the fun and laughter.
+Darkness was beginning to settle down upon the garrison, and lanterns
+were called into requisition. Presently again there appeared a large
+party, at sight of whom the men respectfully drew back right and left,
+and, escorted by a number of officers, Mrs. Raymond, Mrs. Turner, the
+inevitable Mrs. Wilkins, and several others unnamed in our chronicle
+made their appearance upon the scene, all intent upon giving the
+command a cheery God-speed upon its mission. Then came the colonel with
+Grace leaning upon his arm, and instantly she was swallowed up in the
+group of ladies, and for the time being deprived of all opportunity of
+seeing what was going on. She was aware of the fact that Mr. Ray was
+standing near her laughingly chatting with some of the ladies, and that
+Mr. Dana was waiting for a chance to put in a word, but Mrs. Turner
+really hadn’t seen anything of her for an age, and Mrs. Raymond had
+certainly thought she meant to cut her acquaintance, and Mrs. Wilkins
+was dying to know why Mrs. Pelham didn’t come out to give the boys a
+send-off, and between the three matrons and the two or three damsels
+hovering about, all talking at once as was their wont, or treading on
+the heels of one another’s sentences, Grace was in such dire confusion
+that she would have turned gladly to Ray or Dana for relief, when dead
+silence fell upon all as Mrs. Wilkins’s voice propounded the query,—
+
+“But where’s little Glenham? I thought he was to go along.” And then
+all feminine eyes were fixed upon Grace.
+
+Ray noted it, quick as a flash, and came to the rescue. “Hadn’t you
+heard, Mrs. Wilkins?” he said, with a tone of weary indifference,
+indicative of a desire to drop the subject. “The order was not issued
+at all.” And then, laughingly, “Miss Pelham, am I not to be allowed the
+customary luxury of last words before going forth to deeds of derring
+do? I want you to see my troop, anyhow.” And with quiet determination
+he took her hand, placed it within his arm, and led her out of the
+inquisitive group.
+
+“Is Mr. Glenham not going?” she gasped, the instant they were beyond
+ear-shot.
+
+“Mr. Glenham is _not_ going,” he answered, in a low, measured tone.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“He merely writes that an utterly unforeseen circumstance has induced
+him to change his mind. I have not seen him; he did not come to
+dinner.” And wonderingly he looked into her face. It was evident that
+she had heard the news for the first time, and was more than perplexed.
+
+“I hope you will keep up your riding, Miss Pelham, while we are away.
+Tanner tells me that he leaves Ranger here,” said Ray, considerately,
+desirous of changing the subject.
+
+“Yes; so Mr. Hunter told me. Where _is_ Captain Tanner? I want to
+thank him and to say good-by.”
+
+“Not here yet, and time’s up, too. But I fancy it was hard lines saying
+good-by to Mrs. Tanner and little Rosalie. Here they come, though,
+Tanner and Truscott both.” And as he spoke two tall, manly forms
+passed, them in the gathering darkness and approached the colonel.
+“We’ll be off in a minute, Miss Gracie,” said Ray, and his voice
+lowered. “Wish me good luck.”
+
+She felt that his hand, now clasping hers, was trembling. She knew
+with all her woman’s intuition that with all his forced gayety of
+manner this parting was no easy one to him. She liked him well, and
+felt grateful for the tact that he had shown, more than grateful for
+the skill and gallantry with which he had so recently rescued her from
+a probable fate; but though her heart beat throbbingly at the moment,
+it was not for him; and the deep, dark, glorious eyes looked beyond,
+though only in one furtive glance, and sought the taller of the two
+forms now standing by her father’s side. For an instant she forgot the
+young soldier standing patiently before her. “Good-by, Miss Gracie,” he
+gently said; then with quick, impulsive movement raised her hand to his
+lips, turned, and sprang to his horse. The next moment he was in saddle
+in front of his troop, and she had not even answered him. Irresolute
+she stood a moment, then she saw her father shake Tanner warmly by the
+hand, and the latter, putting his arm through Truscott’s, drew him to
+one aide. She joined the colonel.
+
+“Papa, I want to speak to Mr. Ray; I haven’t bade him good-by. Come
+with me.”
+
+“Why, certainly, daughter,” he answered, as he led her rapidly towards
+the spot where the lieutenant, seated on his horse, was addressing some
+words to one of his sergeants. “Here, Ray, my boy, Grace wants to say
+good-by.” And Ray was off his horse and on his feet beside her in less
+than a second.
+
+“You _know_ I wish you all success and a speedy and sale return, Mr.
+Ray,” she said, as she held forth her hand. “You will not like it, of
+course, if I say that I almost hope you won’t see an Indian the whole
+time you are away.”
+
+“That would be the worst kind of luck, Miss Gracie. Ah, Jack, is that
+you? What! good-by already? I thought you would see us off.”
+
+“So I had intended,” said the deep voice she had learned to know so
+well, as Truscott suddenly appeared at her side. “Good-evening, Miss
+Grace. I had promised myself the pleasure of escorting you out to see
+the start, but found that you had already gone. Ray, I have to attend
+to something for Tanner. Good-by and good luck, old fellow.” And with a
+warm clasp of the hand for him, and uplifted cap and courteous bow for
+her, he hurried away. Then came the ringing trumpet-call, and Tanner’s
+soldierly voice ordering “mount.” The colonel drew his daughter swiftly
+back, the men swung into saddle, reformed ranks, and the next instant
+were marching off in column of fours down the slope to the south.
+There was no cheering, no noise, or confusion. In silent array they
+disappeared in the darkness, and the throng of spectators broke up
+and wandered homewards. For a few moments Grace was detained by her
+father, who was talking with Major Bucketts, and several of the ladies
+compelled their escorts to wait until she should be ready to start.
+Then, as they walked across the parade in a group, there were many
+invitations to come and sit a while on this and that piazza, but Grace
+desired to see what had become of her mother, and so declined. Mr.
+Hunter was walking beside her, and escorted her to the door. “_Do_ come
+out again, Miss Pelham, and walk out on the bluff with me. We can hear
+them as they ford the stream,” he urged. She ran up-stairs, knocked at
+her mother’s door. A peevish voice bade her enter, and she found her
+ladyship stretched upon the bed with her night-lamp on the table. “You
+are not well, mother?” she asked, gently.
+
+“I am worried half to death, and have a splitting headache,” was the
+reply.
+
+“Can I do nothing for you? Can I not help you at all?”
+
+“You _could_ help me vastly by coming to your senses. Otherwise not,”
+was the ungracious reply, and her ladyship tossed impatiently over on
+her side.
+
+Grace hesitated one moment; then saying, quietly, “I will soon return
+to you, mother,” left the room.
+
+Mr. Hunter was waiting for her. Together they strolled out in the
+starlight towards the edge of the bluff in rear of the officers’
+quarters. As they neared the slope Grace became aware of two figures
+dimly visible standing just before them; one tall, stalwart, soldierly,
+the other a slender, graceful, womanly form. She knew both at a glance,
+and stopped short. As she did so, loud, ringing, and clear, the trumpet
+signal—first call for tattoo—rose on the air. Her companion looked
+down in surprise at her abrupt stop, but she never heeded him. Her
+eyes were fastened upon the pair in front. Even as she gazed, even as
+the first notes of the call swelled upon the breeze, she saw the woman
+droop and sway; saw him bending towards her; saw him fold her in his
+arms, and could bear no more. “Oh, come away! come away!” she hoarsely
+whispered to Hunter, and plucking nervously at his coat-sleeve, turned
+and fled.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+When Mr. Truscott appeared at breakfast on the following morning he was
+surprised at the extremely cold manner in which Mr. Hunter returned his
+salutation. Glenham he had not seen at all; the boy had risen early and
+gone off upon a lonely ride. But Truscott had too many things to think
+of to worry over a fact that at another time would have attracted his
+attention. Glenham had actually avoided him all the previous evening as
+well. Bucketts, Carroll, Crane, and the doctor greeted him as usual,
+and went on with their speculations as to the probable result of the
+scout just started, and Truscott, busied in his own reflections,
+thought no more of Hunter’s averted eye. “The youngster possibly thinks
+he ought to have been sent out instead of Dana, and that I’m to blame,”
+was the explanation that occurred to him. “He will think better of it
+after a while.”
+
+Office-work over, he rose from his desk and went with his usual
+straightforwardness to the colonel’s and rang at the bell. “Can I see
+Miss Pelham?” he asked of the servant.
+
+“Miss Pelham is not able to leave her room, say to Mr. Truscott,” said
+the voice of her ladyship, at the head of the stairs.
+
+The adjutant stepped quickly into the hall and gazed aloft. “Miss
+Pelham is not seriously ill, I trust,” said he, with evident anxiety in
+face and voice.
+
+“She is far from well, and cannot see anybody,” was the reply, in a
+very stately and unsympathetic tone.
+
+“I am extremely sorry to hear it, Mrs. Pelham. Please express to her
+my sincere sympathy and regret,” said he, and, hearing no response,
+reluctantly withdrew. Leaving the house, looking anything but
+comforted, Mr. Truscott turned in at an adjoining piazza, and knocked
+at Captain Tanner’s door. While waiting for admission, something
+prompted him to look at the side window of the colonel’s quarters. As
+he did so, Mrs. Pelham suddenly withdrew her peeping head, but he had
+distinctly seen her. Inquiry of the answering Abigail resulted in the
+information that Mrs. Tanner, too, was indisposed, and had not left her
+room. “But would Mr. Truscott stop in by and by?” Mr. Truscott said he
+would, and mean time proceeded to his own quarters.
+
+Passing Captain Turner’s, he raised his cap in acknowledgment of the
+smiling greeting of the lady of the house. She was eagerly conversing
+with young Mr. Hunter, who looked away. At home he found the house
+deserted. Glenham had returned evidently, and was now probably engaged
+in some of his company duties. Truscott unlocked his wardrobe and took
+therefrom the pretty whip Grace had tossed him two days before, seated
+himself in his easy-chair, and holding it in his hands, gave himself up
+to thought. Two or three of the greyhounds, finding the entrance open,
+stole to his doorway and looked wistfully in, begging for an invitation
+to come, but he did not see them. An ambulance rattled past the house,
+and he heard laughter and familiar voices, but paid no attention. For
+nearly an hour he sat there thinking earnestly, or perhaps at times
+only idly dreaming. At last he rose, replaced the dainty whip in the
+wardrobe, seated himself at the desk, and wrote a brief note, closed,
+sealed, and addressed it to “Miss Pelham, Camp Sandy,” and as the
+noonday call was sounding from the guard-house, sent the note by the
+hands of the office orderly. It had been a dreary morning to him, but
+it had been worse for Glenham.
+
+To begin with, the latter felt utterly certain that the whole garrison
+was talking about him. He knew well that Ray had told several officers
+that he, Glenham, had applied to be ordered out on the scout. It was
+known all over the post before stable-call, for, had not Mrs. Pelham
+heard it while at the Raymonds? and had not his own servant come
+in to know what things the lieutenant would take in his pack, and
+couldn’t he, too, go along? And then at the eleventh hour he had most
+inexplicably backed out. Full well he knew the flood of conjecture,
+gossip, and talk to which his sudden change of mind would give rise.
+Full well he realized that among the officers he would be regarded
+with grave disappointment, among the men as a milksop, and among the
+ladies of the garrison as legitimate prey for all their questionings
+and insinuations. The fact that Mrs. Raymond was the only one who, up
+to late in the previous evening, had any idea of the real cause of
+his conduct was not fraught with especial comfort: for the absolute
+inability of that fascinating but volatile young matron to keep
+anything to herself was only too well appreciated throughout the —th.
+Within twenty-four hours, therefore, he counted on the story being
+told with a score of exasperating embellishments all over the post,
+and was furthermore certain that the next day’s mail for Prescott
+would go up laden with a dozen letters from as many feminine pens; the
+story of his “break-down”—so he regarded it—being the one topic. He
+hated himself, hated, or began to hate, the woman whose influence had
+brought the thing about. He felt ashamed to look his colonel in the
+face, and he alone of all the officers of the post failed to put in an
+appearance when Tanner’s command marched away. Nevertheless, he was
+utterly, miserably in love, poor boy; and, like many another poor boy
+under similar circumstances, he rated ambition, professional pride, the
+“_qu’en dira-t-on?_” of Mrs. Grundy, everything—_anything_ as naught
+in comparison with what had been set before him as the inevitable
+consequence of his going away at this critical juncture,—the loss of
+the lady of his love.
+
+And this was the terrific whip held over him by that prospective
+mother-in-law.
+
+Mrs. Pelham heard the news of Glenham’s application as she sat with
+Mrs. Raymond during her afternoon visit; the captain himself had come
+in with the information. Startled as she was, madame had kept her wits
+about her, and even while conversing with her host and hostess had
+managed to review the situation and to decide on her plan of action.
+Well she knew that, despite all her efforts to connect Mr. Truscott’s
+name in a dishonorable affair with Mrs. Tanner, she had not been able
+to more than temporarily shake the confidence in and respect for him
+which she saw to be daily growing in Grace’s heart. She had marked all
+too plainly the girl’s glad welcome of her soldierly friend, and the
+glow of happiness in her face on her return from her ride. Then there
+was this miserable affair of Ralph’s. If the truth concerning that were
+to leak out at all, her hopes, her plans, were dashed to earth, for
+now she felt assured that Truscott, not Glenham, had been her son’s
+benefactor. Oh, what an idiotic blunder she had made in her wrath! Why
+had she ever mentioned that matter, or shown Ralph’s letter to the
+colonel? He would only probe it to the bottom, find out that he was
+even more indebted to Truscott than he supposed; then Grace would be
+told the story, and that would be the end of everything. Poor perturbed
+lady! She could stand the contemplation of such disaster no longer. Not
+only her plans would fail, but she herself must infallibly be exposed
+to the contempt of her husband and, perhaps, that of her own daughter,
+for whom she had been plotting, manœuvring, and lying all this time.
+
+Prompt measures alone would avail her. She must see Glenham, and see
+him at once. Not at home, for there she knew the colonel, Grace, and
+probably others to be at that moment. Mrs. Raymond would befriend her
+she felt sure. What wouldn’t that politic lady do to curry favor with
+so ruthless an old agitator?
+
+“I want to see Mr. Glenham at once. May I send for him to come here?”
+she hurriedly asked.
+
+“Why, of course. Sam will run and tell him. There goes stable-call
+now,” said Mrs. Raymond.
+
+Her ladyship seized a scrap of paper. “Come to me instantly at Captain
+Raymond’s,” she wrote, and away went Sam with the brief, mandatory
+missive. What need of explanation? thought she; had he not promised to
+obey her implicitly? Quickly as he came, he could hardly come quickly
+enough. She met him at the door, and ushered him into the vacant
+parlor. Mrs. Raymond had withdrawn, of course, but, oh, how she hoped
+that madame’s voice would reach the adjoining room in tones so loud
+that she could not help hearing!
+
+But Mrs. Pelham did not speak loud. In low, hurried, impressive tones
+she told Arthur Glenham in plain words that his one chance of winning
+Grace lay in his remaining at the garrison. “It is madness to think of
+going now, at the very moment when her heart is beginning to feel its
+dependence upon you,” she said. He glanced up quickly, a wild hope in
+his young eyes. “I _know_ it,” she continued. “She has almost confessed
+as much to me. But if you go, you subject her at once to the attentions
+of a man who is no true friend of yours, and whom she is too innocent
+to fathom.”
+
+“What—who do you mean?” he gasped.
+
+“Your _friend_, Mr. Truscott.”
+
+He started as though struck. “I can believe no wrong of Truscott,” he
+said. “He is my most trusted friend, but I never mentioned this—this to
+him until last night.”
+
+“Mark my words, though. You go at your own risk. _Even the colonel
+is reluctant to have you go now._ _I_ shall say not another word to
+warn you. It is only because of my promise to you that I have brought
+myself to do this. If you love Grace and would win her, stay! If not,
+go!”
+
+And of course he stayed.
+
+Despite Mrs. Pelham’s “worry and headache,” a number of officers and
+ladies gathered in the colonel’s parlor soon after tattoo the night
+that Tanner’s command marched away. Fleeing from the spot where she and
+her escort had plainly seen Mr. Truscott and Mrs. Tanner, Grace had
+called all her pride and pluck into requisition, and finding her father
+with one or two of his cronies standing on the piazza, she had begged
+them to come into the parlor.
+
+“Yes, _do_ come,” urged the colonel, and “Grace will give us some
+music.” And so it had happened that quite a number of the young people
+had gathered there, and for over an hour mirth, music, and laughter had
+reigned supreme. Never had Grace seemed so winsome, so full of life and
+gayety. She sang for them again and again, and sang gloriously; her
+voice rich, clear, and true, seemed more thrilling than ever, and they
+would not let her stop. Twice the colonel bent to kiss her and praise
+her singing. And she, looking up in his face, answered so that only
+he could hear, “If it please you, father; I care for no one else.” In
+the midst of it all who should enter but Truscott. She was singing at
+the moment, but the colonel welcomed him cordially, and Mrs. Turner
+motioned him to a seat by her side. The instant the song was finished
+he rose and went forward; but before he could speak Miss Pelham, too,
+had risen, and with perfect ease and the most radiant smile, exclaimed,
+“This is indeed an honor, Mr. Truscott. You have been so confirmed a
+recluse that an evening visit from you is more than a rarity.” Then
+she turned instantly to reply to several requests for another song,
+laughingly protesting that they must leave at least one or two for
+some other occasion; and Truscott noted with vague uneasiness and
+disappointment that the little hand so carelessly extended had barely
+touched his, and was cold as ice.
+
+During the rest of the brief half-hour he listened with delight to her
+singing when she sang, and watched the grace and cordiality of her
+manner among the guests with growing admiration, but not one word more
+was vouchsafed him. It was soon time to go, for others were going, and
+not even a good-night pressure of the hand could he gain. Mrs. Turner
+had absolutely taken his arm after saying farewell, and Grace, quickly
+noting the circumstance, had seized her opportunity.
+
+“Ah! you going, too, Mr. Truscott? Good-night.” And with the words she
+turned her attention to other departing guests. But when all were gone,
+and her father would have detained her a few moments, she hurriedly
+kissed his ruddy forehead and wished him pleasant dreams, darted up the
+stairs and into her own room, locked the door, threw herself upon the
+bed, and burst into a passion of tears.
+
+Late the following afternoon, and not until late, she appeared in the
+parlor. A violent headache had been her excuse for remaining in her
+room all day, but she was wide awake when Truscott called, and as her
+mother stepped to the head of the stairs, she had listened to that
+brief conversation with strained attention. She could not help noting
+the earnest anxiety in his voice, and a thrill of gladness for an
+instant possessed her. Then she recalled the scene of the previous
+night, and then again her mother’s voice was heard in the adjoining
+room, “And now he is going into Mrs. Tanner’s.” And Grace hardened
+her heart against him in bitter, jealous pain. Gladly would she have
+shunned all eyes that day, but the Raymonds and Mr. Glenham had been
+invited by Mrs. Pelham to dinner, so rise and dress she had to. Once
+during the morning the colonel had come in to kiss and cheer her, but
+she shrank from all conversation with her mother, and lay perfectly
+still, as though striving to sleep, whenever that lady entered; but at
+noon she heard the servant coming up the stairs after answering the
+door-bell, and with a “sh-sh-sh” of caution, Mrs. Pelham had swooped
+out from her own room and taken possession of the tiny note that
+Grace could not see. No wonder that Truscott received no answer that
+day,—that the tiny note never was answered. At stables he learned from
+the colonel that she was better, and “had been resting quietly,” but
+that was all. It had been his intention to have a talk with Glenham
+after dinner, and on returning from stables he found the latter getting
+into his full uniform. They had not met before during the day.
+
+“What’s that for, Glenham?” he asked. “There is no parade to-night.”
+
+“Dinner at the colonel’s,” was the brief reply.
+
+“Indeed! I hope Miss Pelham is well enough to be down, then.”
+
+“She was looking well as ever when I saw her ten minutes ago,” was
+the dry response; and Truscott, pained and stung,—he hardly knew
+why,—decided that he would postpone what he had to say to Glenham. He
+spent the evening alone, and it was after eleven, and he had gone to
+bed, when he heard Glenham return. It used to be the practice of the
+latter when he came in late and found no one in their sitting-room to
+go to Jack’s door and see if he had turned in; but this night he never
+stopped an instant; and Truscott, lying sleepless for hours afterwards,
+and thinking over the events of the past few days, felt sadly assured
+that in many ways the course of his true love was to run no smoother
+than was proverbially the case.
+
+The next was a busy day in the office. Truscott stopped at the
+colonel’s on the way thither to inquire after Miss Pelham, and was
+told by the servant that she was much better, and at the moment
+at breakfast. The colonel himself remained but a few moments at
+headquarters, and yet Truscott’s practised eye saw at once that
+something had gone very wrong with him. He was looking anxious
+and harassed, and replied to the few questions addressed him by
+the adjutant with evident constraint. All the morning and much of
+the afternoon Truscott was chained to the desk, engaged with the
+sergeant-major and the clerks on some important papers; but shortly
+before stables he called at the colonel’s, and inquired if he could
+see Miss Pelham. He heard the rustle of feminine garments in the
+parlor as the servant ushered him through the hall, but it was
+vacant when he entered, and the door leading to the dining-room was
+closed; the piano was open, and on the rack was a favorite song
+of Miss Pelham’s,—Millard’s “Waiting.” On the piano was a cavalry
+forage-cap,—Glenham’s. In a moment the servant returned. “Miss Pelham
+is lying down, and begs to be excused,” was the message; and with a
+deep, dull pain, and a sense of injury he could not define rankling in
+his heart, Jack Truscott turned and left the parlor. He never entered
+it again.
+
+Late that evening two soldiers of Captain Tanner’s troop rode into
+garrison, went at once to the adjutant’s quarters, and delivered a
+package addressed in the captain’s handwriting to Truscott. Opening it
+he found a letter for himself, a second addressed to Tanner’s business
+agent in San Francisco, a third to Mrs. Tanner. Sending the men to
+their quarters he rapidly read the first note, and for a few moments
+remained buried in thought. Then he started, looked at his watch, once
+more glanced at his note, and, taking all three in his hand, left the
+house.
+
+Meantime, what has become of Mrs. Tanner? Just how she bore the tidings
+that her husband was to be torn from her at the very day and hour when
+she most needed his loving caresses, just what that parting cost her,
+just how long, dreary, and tear-laden was the night that followed the
+departure of his command, and how desolate and sad the succeeding day,
+no words could tell; and, fortunately enough, the poor powers of this
+narrator would fall too far short of adequate description to render
+the faintest attempt pardonable. There are some sorrows too sacred
+for prying eyes to look upon; too deep, too holy, for any record save
+that of the All-Merciful on high. _Is_ it compensation? is it, can
+it be sufficient to the eye of faith upturned in dumb, yet patient,
+prayerful agony, that He who giveth only to take away, notes with
+loving pity every sob and tear, and only chasteneth because He loveth?
+Ah! I fear me there be mothers who cannot fathom the depths of a love
+so infinite, mothers to whom the prattle and petting of some sweet,
+sunny-haired baby were worth far more than a love infinite indeed,
+yet infinitely beyond them. Bow and bend and bear it as they may, is
+there a mother-heart so utterly sanctified by grief, I wonder, as to
+be able to _feel_ the utter resignation of the words the quivering,
+kiss-robbed lips so meekly strive to frame,—“Thy will be done”? Perhaps
+so. Possibly it was so with her whose lot it was to be bereft of the
+idols of her gentle life; to be left lone, desolate, wellnigh deserted
+in her bereavement; to be shunned by those whose hands were not worthy
+to unlatch the very shoes upon her feet, whose lips were too sullied to
+breathe the least holy, womanly, wifely thought that ever found birth
+in her pure and humble soul. Let us leave her with her grief and her
+God. It was practically what Camp Sandy did.
+
+The Raymonds and Mr. Glenham had dined at Colonel Pelham’s, as has
+been seen, and it will be remembered that Mr. Hunter was in earnest
+conversation with Mrs. Turner that morning. Very soon after Hunter’s
+departure Mrs. Turner had run over to Mrs. Raymond’s. Later in the day
+Mrs. Wilkins in a high state of excitement was observed to be imparting
+some intelligence to no less than three ladies over on Captain Canker’s
+piazza. That night after dinner Mrs. Raymond had a long whispered
+conversation with Lady Pelham on the sofa, while Grace was trying to
+sing for the benefit of the adoring Glenham, who hung rapturously about
+the piano. Later still Mrs. Pelham had inflicted a curtain-lecture
+upon the colonel which robbed him of sleep, and in course of which
+she gave him a piece of information that made him utterly wretched.
+The next morning on his return from the office he had sought Grace,
+and after a few moments’ conversation, in which he had shown grievous
+embarrassment, he had taken her in his arms, saying, “Grace, my
+darling, sometimes I think I can believe nobody but you. For God’s
+sake, tell me that this story I have heard of what you and Mr. Hunter
+saw is not true!” And she, looking wildly up in his face one moment,
+exclaimed, in horror-stricken tones, “Oh, father, he cannot have told
+it!” and burst into a passion of hysterical tears.
+
+Then poor Pelham knew it was true. He did not go to stables that
+afternoon: he did not want to see Truscott. He shut himself in his
+“den,” as a sort of study and smoking-room of his was called, and
+strove to think. When the adjutant reported the command present at
+tattoo, he merely replied, “Very well, sir,” and abruptly re-entered
+the house. And when ten o’clock came and the trumpet-call for
+extinguishing lights wailed through the garrison, its notes sounded
+like a knell to his honest heart. Ah, how many there were to whom the
+notes were even sadder! All because a weak-minded boy had not sense
+enough to hold his tongue.
+
+“You don’t seem to like Mr. Truscott,” Mrs. Turner had remarked to Mr.
+Hunter that morning. “Why, I thought he was the Admirable Crichton
+himself.”
+
+Now Mr. Hunter was Mrs. Turner’s latest victim. The young fellow was
+dancing around the limited circle of which her apron-string was the
+radius much of his time, and he was jealous of her admiration for
+Truscott, and was not a youth of profound good taste or discretion in
+any event.
+
+“I don’t like any man who is two-faced,” was his surly reply.
+
+“But I always thought Mr. Truscott the personification of honor and
+straightforwardness,” she persisted.
+
+“He may be, only his way doesn’t strike me as eminently high-toned,”
+was the answer. And in ten minutes she had deftly extracted his story
+from his not unwilling lips and sent him about his business. This
+was the delicious plum she carried to Mrs. Raymond, and it needs no
+dilation now to tell how the plum expanded by the time it reached the
+colonel.
+
+No wonder no lady had called to see how poor little Mrs. Tanner was on
+either of the two days succeeding her husband’s departure.
+
+All that evening the colonel sat alone in his den. It was late, eleven
+o’clock, when the wife of his bosom suggested his going to bed. She
+herself had been having a long chat with Mr. Glenham, despite the fact
+that she had monopolized him during much of the afternoon. Grace was
+indeed up-stairs when Truscott called, but it was Mrs. Pelham, not she,
+who sent the message that she was lying down. But the colonel would not
+go to bed.
+
+“I cannot sleep now, Dolly. I want to think. The mail goes up to
+Prescott first thing to-morrow morning, and I must write two letters.”
+
+It must have been long after midnight when at last he rose, and, with
+a drawn, wearied look upon his face, extinguished the lights and went
+to his room. Even then he stood for some little time at his window,
+looking out upon the starry sky to the southward. Suddenly he heard
+quick footsteps crossing the parade from the direction of the office.
+Somebody bounded up on the piazza, and instantly the clang of the bell,
+thrice repeated, resounded through the house. Pelham quickly waddled
+down and opened the door.
+
+“Who is it?” he sharply asked.
+
+“Corcoran, sir. It’s an important despatch, and I brought it right
+over. It’s lucky I sleep next to the instrument, or we might not have
+got it until morning, sir.”
+
+“Come in,” said Pelham. And leading the way to the parlor, he struck a
+light, tore open the envelope, and hastily read the contents.
+
+“Go and wake the adjutant at once, and tell him I want him,” he said.
+And Corcoran was off without a word.
+
+The next moment Grace’s light footstep was heard upon the stair, and in
+a loose, warm wrapper, she stole hastily in upon him.
+
+“What is it, papa? I could not call for fear of waking mother, and I
+was anxious.”
+
+“A very important message from the general with instructions for
+Tanner’s command. Instructions he must get at once, too,” said the
+colonel, “and there isn’t a scout in the garrison.”
+
+“What can you do?” she asked, anxiously.
+
+“I don’t know yet; I’ve sent for the adjutant,” he stammered. He
+could not explain it, but he could not then pronounce his name in her
+presence. Again he read the despatch.
+
+“Advices just received from Stryker prove Eskiminzin to be near
+Diamond Butte. Send couriers after Tanner at once and turn him that
+way. Indians are strongly reinforced and making for Green Valley. Hold
+entire command in readiness to move at moment’s notice. What force has
+Tanner? Acknowledge receipt.”
+
+He handed it to her. “You may read it, Grace. I had thought all this
+was at an end, but you never can tell. There be agents and agents. It
+looks like another general outbreak.”
+
+The sweet face paled a little as the curt, business-like wording of the
+despatch met her eyes. Then she looked up.
+
+“Do not speak of it to any one,” he said. “Your mother sometimes
+forgets that these are not matters for talk. But what keeps Corcoran?”
+he asked, impatiently, and stepped forth upon the piazza. Despite the
+chill night air, Grace threw his heavy cloak around her and followed
+him, linking her arm through his and nestling close to his side.
+
+“It is all so exciting, and yet, I can’t help it, I like it,” she said.
+
+“You’re quite a soldier, Gracie,” he answered, fondly. “I believe you
+were cut out for the army, despite your mother’s predilections for
+civil life. Here comes Corcoran on the run, as usual. Did you find
+him?” he asked.
+
+“No, sir. He isn’t there at all.”
+
+“What?” said Pelham, with sudden vehemence. “Not there? Are you sure?”
+
+“Sure, sir. Mr. Glenham got up and we went through the house. He isn’t
+there, and all is dark down at the store——” And Corcoran paused
+irresolutely.
+
+“Go and call the officer of the day, Captain Canker, quick,” said the
+colonel, shortly.
+
+Then there was silence. He put his arm around his daughter’s waist, and
+she, shivering, though not from cold, nestled closer to him. From the
+guard-house arose the prolonged cry of the sentry, “Number one, one
+o’clock.” And one after another the sentries took up the call before
+Corcoran returned. Behind him, with clanking sabre, came Captain Canker.
+
+“Have you any idea where Truscott can be?” was the immediate question
+from the colonel’s lips.
+
+Before the astonished officer could reply, the door of Captain Tanner’s
+quarters, close beside them, opened. A broad light shone forth upon
+the parade, and, calm and erect, the adjutant stepped quickly from the
+hall. The door closed behind him. With one bound Grace Pelham tore
+herself from her father’s arm and fled up-stairs.
+
+“You are calling me, colonel. What is it?” the deep, grave voice was
+heard to ask, and Mr. Truscott stood before his commanding officer.
+
+For an instant no one spoke. Pelham fairly staggered. Canker’s face
+bore an expression of virtuous amaze and indignation. Truscott alone
+looked self-possessed.
+
+“Mr. Truscott,” at last said the colonel, with evident effort, and very
+gravely, “I have been sending everywhere for you.” (A conventional
+statement which many a post commander considers it justifiable to make
+when the desired officer doesn’t happen to be in the first place he
+is looked for.) “It is necessary to send a courier to Tanner at once,
+some one who will be sure to find him. A most important despatch is
+received, and it must get to him quick as possible. Who can take it?”
+
+“I can, sir.”
+
+“But I don’t want to send you. Stop, though,” said the colonel, and
+a sudden thought seemed to flash across his mind. The look of deep
+trouble, of stern, startled resolution, was still upon his face. “I
+wish you _would_ go. It is best you should. I—I mean it is of such
+moment that I like to intrust it to no one but an officer.”
+
+“I can start inside an hour, colonel, and can catch him before the next
+sunset.”
+
+“Then take any escort you like, and get ready at once. Bucketts will
+act for you in your absence. I will be at the office.” And Truscott
+turned and left, turned suddenly again at Tanner’s quarters, and
+knocked lightly at the door. It was opened at once, and he entered.
+The colonel and Captain Canker gazed after him in silence. Then their
+eyes met. “Come into the parlor, Canker,” said the colonel, hoarsely,
+and led the way. “Corcoran, go and wake the sergeant-major, and send
+the orderly trumpeter to report to the adjutant. Wake Major Bucketts
+and say—no, never mind waking anybody else. Come in, captain.” And the
+colonel closed his door.
+
+In five minutes Mr. Truscott reappeared on the piazza, and Mrs. Tanner
+followed him. “You will stop for the letter?” she anxiously asked.
+
+“Certainly,” he answered, and was gone.
+
+At two o’clock in the morning three horsemen rode rapidly away from the
+adjutant’s office down the slope to the southward. With them were two
+led horses. Jack Truscott had started on his dangerous mission.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Down in a deep valley close under the frowning cliffs of the Mogollon
+range a cavalry detachment has gone into bivouac. The setting sun
+flashes upon tree-top and rocky spur above, and throws into bold
+prominence the long expanse of rugged precipice that spans the view
+far as eye can reach. To right and left it stretches, a barrier grim
+and impassable, shutting off all view towards the east. Northward and
+southward are the foot-hills, lofty in themselves, but dwarfed by the
+great height of the palisaded crest in front. All are densely wooded,
+covered with short, stunted but hardy pine, juniper, and scrub-oak,
+while down in the deep interlying valleys and narrow cañons tall
+cottonwoods rear their heads. It is in a grove of these that the men
+have unsaddled, and now, as twilight settles upon the scene, and the
+herd-guards are doubled around the grazing steeds and pack-mules, the
+glow of the camp-fire is visible down under the stream-bank, whence
+its light cannot be detected beyond the narrow limits of the bivouac.
+The ruddy glare falls upon the faces of three or four busy soldiers,
+the cooks _pro tempore_ of the command, but almost to a man the other
+troopers are gathered about two dusty, weary-looking non-commissioned
+officers who have just dismounted and are now unsaddling their jaded
+horses. The merry, reckless chaff is stilled; a marked silence has
+fallen upon all; the men converse in quiet tones. Even the horses
+have an air of mysterious caution about them, and the Indian allies,
+crouching or squatting under the trees, are gazing fixedly, but
+without a word to one another, upon the group of soldiery. Even while
+questioning the new-comers and listening eagerly to their replies, some
+of the troopers keep constantly in view a party of five men standing
+aloof engaged in earnest conversation. One of them, the tallest,
+is unbuckling belt and spur as he stands leaning against a broad
+cottonwood. He lifts his broad-brimmed scouting-hat and passes his hand
+across his white forehead with an air of evident fatigue, but continues
+his quiet talk to the others. It is Jack Truscott, and around him are
+Tanner, Ray, Dana, and the doctor. Since two o’clock in the morning he
+has been in pursuit, through mountain-pass, through dark and gloomy
+cañon, through wilds only well known to the infesting Apaches, through
+lairs where every moment he might expect to hear their vengeful yell
+and the crack of rifle or whiz of arrow; but even as he promised and
+predicted, before the setting of another sun he has accomplished his
+mission, and the despatches are now in Tanner’s hands. He has read
+them, and, pondering over their contents, is still eagerly listening to
+Truscott’s talk.
+
+“Could you tell how many there were?” he asked.
+
+“No,” said Truscott. “But it was evident that they had been there to
+fill their _ollas_, and it must be that their main body is somewhere
+among the high peaks, within a mile or two of the water.”
+
+“What a blessed piece of luck! We passed up the valley on the other
+side, and might never have seen it. Who knows what time the moon will
+be up?”
+
+“Eight thirty,” answered Ray.
+
+“Then we want supper for all hands first thing. Jack, you must be
+hungry as a wolf. Ray, Dana, let your men fill their canteens and take
+along a couple of days’ bacon and hard-tack. See that every man has
+fifty rounds carbine cartridges and enough for his revolver. We start
+afoot at moonrise. There will be time for some of them to get a nap.
+Doctor, two of the men will carry what you want.” And with that Captain
+Tanner proceeded to stow his despatches in his scouting note-book,
+and briefly to note in pencil the events of the day. In ten minutes
+the entire bivouac, officers and men, were eagerly disposing of a
+substantial supper with the zest only mountain appetites and the vivid
+uncertainty as to when or where the next might be obtainable can impart.
+
+Then as pipes were filled and lighted, Tanner, Truscott, and Ray,
+stretched at ease upon their blankets, fell into further discussion.
+
+“What time did Mills and Lewis get in?” asked Tanner, referring to the
+two soldiers who had been sent back with despatches the day before.
+
+“It must have been soon after ten,” said Truscott. “I found Mrs. Tanner
+still up and dressed, and she got the papers at once.”
+
+“I’m sorry to have put you to so much trouble, Jack. It must have been
+some hours’ work. Why, man alive, you cannot have had a wink of sleep
+for thirty-six hours or more. I never thought of it.”
+
+“Never mind that,” said Truscott, laughingly. “It was good luck. If
+your note had not come I would have been asleep when this despatch
+reached Sandy, and the colonel would have sent somebody else. Then too
+if it had not come I would have followed on your trail, or whoever came
+would have done so, instead of taking the short cut by Hardscrabble and
+Jaycox Pass, and so would have missed these signs entirely.”
+
+“All the same you need rest. Of course, now that you are here, you’ll
+want to go with us on the night-hunt; but you can sleep till nine or
+ten and follow. Sergeant Kane can go with the Apache-Mohaves and show
+the signs. We’ll follow the old tactics, of course,—attack at daybreak.”
+
+“All right,” said Truscott, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe;
+and rolling over, burying his face in his arms, he was soon sound
+asleep.
+
+Tanner and Ray smoked in silence a while, busied in their reflections.
+Dana, a few yards away, was writing what appeared to be a letter.
+The doctor was busy about his pannier, getting ready lint, bandages,
+and the ominous-looking supplies of his department. Some distance
+farther the men were chatting in low tones under the trees, kicking
+off their cavalry boots and spurs and pulling on Indian moccasins as
+more suitable for the work before them, and overhauling their arms and
+ammunition-belts. Out in the glade the herds were restfully grazing,
+while here and there on the outskirts could be heard the subdued voices
+of the guards as they rebuked some straggling quadruped, while the
+muffled tinkle of the bells on the necks of the lead-horses of each
+company’s pack-train, and the occasional snap of burning twig or stamp
+of hoof, were the only sounds that a hundred yards away would have
+betrayed the presence of the command.
+
+“Truscott ought to be fairly used up, Ray,” said Tanner, finally.
+“I’ve a great mind to steal off and leave him sleeping here with the
+camp-guard to take charge of him.”
+
+“You would not get far away before he would be striding after you,”
+said Ray, with a grin. “But what kept him up all last night? I did not
+understand.”
+
+“Why, that was my doing, confound it!” answered Tanner. “I had promised
+to send copies of certain important papers to San Francisco, and was
+ordered off in a hurry, and—well, it escaped my attention, for it was
+particularly hard to leave my wife just at this time. So when the
+doctor sent Lewis back sick, I wrote to Jack and asked him to get them
+off by first mail for me. I supposed that he would have them copied
+by a clerk; but the mail went this morning, and in order to get them
+off he and Mrs. Tanner had to sit up till after midnight and make the
+copies. It isn’t the first time he has had to look after my affairs for
+me. I fancy Jack knows more about my business matters than any agent I
+ever had; and, glad as I am to see him, I wish he hadn’t come away from
+Sandy just now.”
+
+Ray looked up inquiringly.
+
+“You didn’t know it, I suppose, Ray, but the night we marched away,
+almost the very hour, was the night five years ago we lost our little
+Bertie. It is a wretched anniversary to my poor wife, and always upsets
+her. She never has any intimates or particularly warm friends among
+the ladies somehow, and Truscott has been about the only real comrade
+we’ve ever had. She thinks all the world of him, for he nursed Bertie
+through one severe attack while I was away, and he was the only soul
+to sympathize with her the night we marched. It hurts me to think how
+lonely these days must be to her and poor little Rosalie.” And the
+bronzed, bearded face turned away from the firelight.
+
+Ray rose impulsively. “Why in thunder hadn’t I thought of this, Tanner?
+I wish all the more now that—— Why! why didn’t Jack tell Pelham? Oh,
+of course you forbade him, but all the same I would have let him know.
+Never mind, old man, we’ll give these reds a trouncing to-morrow and
+then hurry back for Christmas, and give Rosalie an out-and-out merry
+one.”
+
+“God grant it!” said Tanner, gravely. And Ray wondering at the
+earnestness, the solemnity of his tone, fell to thinking of their
+conversation. It had made a deep impression upon his light, careless
+nature, and he long remembered every word. Well was it that he did so!
+
+At last, looking eagerly aloft among the tree-tops, Tanner notes the
+faint, shimmering, silvery touch of moonlight. All at the base of the
+Mogollon is still deep shadow. He rises from the blankets in which
+he has rolled himself and looks around. At his feet, sleeping like
+children, are Truscott and Ray. Under a neighboring cottonwood lies
+Dana, but not asleep. It is too new an experience to him, and the
+proximity of the doctor’s kit of murderous-looking implements is not
+conducive to placid reflections. All along under the trees, close to
+the rushing brook, the men are noiselessly grouped, most of them
+soundly sleeping, though a few move restlessly about. To the left
+front, securely hobbled and under vigilant guard, the eight-score
+animals—horses and mules—are scattered over the glade. Here and there
+is the faint glow of smouldering cook- or watch-fire, and over all
+peace and silence.
+
+Little by little the silver shield rises higher and peers down over the
+rocky wall into the depths of the valley. Then Tanner signals to his
+watchful sergeant, and in low, brief tones the word is given,—
+
+“Tumble up, men.”
+
+No stirring trumpet, no martial reveille, no formal roll-call or
+assembly, nothing, in fine, that speaks of the pomp and circumstance
+of war. Rolling out of their blankets and hastily strapping them into
+bundles, the troopers, with the ease of long practice, stow their small
+belongings in shape for immediate transportation on mule-back, turn
+them over to the packers for safekeeping, and in ten minutes the little
+command is ready. A strong guard under experienced non-commissioned
+officers remains most reluctantly in charge of the herds and packs;
+but some eighty men, nearly all veteran Indian-fighters, are grouped
+about the watch-fire waiting orders. Looking among them, no wonder Mr.
+Ray mutters to Captain Tanner, “Well, we’re banditti all over again
+to-night,” for hardly a vestige of regulation uniform appears in the
+entire array. Old slouch white hats, shirts of buckskin, canvas, or
+woollen, trousers of similar material, an occasional pair of boots,
+but a predominance of serviceable Tonto moccasins, in which the men
+glide about noiselessly as spirits; not a uniform coat or cap in
+the whole command. Even the officers, in their blue flannel shirts
+and broad-brimmed hats, are as picturesquely unencumbered by any
+paraphernalia of rank as their men.
+
+“Send Sergeant Winser here with the scouts,” is the low-toned order
+that falls from the captain’s lips, as he and Mr. Truscott stand,
+watch in hand, under the tall cottonwood at the edge of the glade;
+and, obedient to the summons, a tall, splendidly-built soldier with
+bronzed face, clear-cut features, and dark, thoughtful eyes, steps
+forward, and, quietly saluting, stands in silence before his commander.
+Following him come a dozen Apache scouts, their coarse, matted hair,
+bead-like, glittering eyes, and snaky movements giving them, despite
+their temporary and enforced allegiance, an indefinable something that
+makes the beholder wary and distrustful. These fellows, though, have
+been proved in many a trying scout and skirmish through the mountains,
+and their strange Apache names have long since been dropped for the
+shorter, less romantic, but far more pronounceable titles given by
+their soldier comrades. Toyáh has become Pop-corn, Kithaymi, Hopkin
+(after a discharged soldier to whom he had become strongly attached);
+Tomawárecha is “Whiskey,” though he knows not the taste of the article,
+and a villainous-looking young scamp of a savage, with the appalling
+name of Ulnyiákahorah, is dubbed Jocko for short. And here, too, is
+Araháwa,—Washington Charley,—and he takes his place by the sergeant’s
+side as interpreter, should interpreting be necessary.
+
+Briefly Tanner gives his instructions.
+
+“Lieutenant Truscott will lead you and the scouts, sergeant. He found
+signs six miles down the valley, and we will follow the trail wherever
+it goes. Ready, Jack?” he asks. Truscott nods, throws his carbine over
+his shoulder, and without a word strides off down the brook-side.
+Sergeant Winser beckons to his Apaches, and away they go at his heels.
+Then Tanner turns to his troopers. “All ready, sergeant?”
+
+“All ready, sir.”
+
+“See to it, men, that your canteens don’t rattle. Keep in the shade
+as much as possible. Come on.” And with Ray, Dana, and the doctor
+close behind him, the captain follows on the trail of the scouts, and
+after them, in no tactical order whatever, but in perfect silence and
+readiness, the men of the two troops trudge briskly along. For a while
+the trail is so narrow and winding that they move in single file, but
+little by little the valley opens out, broader glades appear, the trees
+grow sparse, except close along in the bed of the stream, and soon they
+are able to spread out to the right and left and to see about them. To
+the right the foot-hills roll off northward in wave-like undulations.
+To the left, only a short distance from the valley down which they are
+rapidly marching, high, jagged precipitous cliffs and “buttes” rise
+against the southern sky, all dark and forbidding.
+
+For over an hour they plunge along, and the pace is beginning to tell
+upon some of the heavy-weights towards the rear; but Truscott and his
+Apaches at the front know well that there is no time to be lost in
+getting on the trail of the Tontos. They must be followed to their
+lair before daybreak. If it be far from the valley whither they had
+come for their supply of water, then every hour will be needed. If
+near, then there will be plenty of time to rest after they get there.
+At last, towards eleven o’clock, some time after leaving the banks of
+the stream, and while pushing ahead among the foot-hills of the tall
+cliffs to the south, the rearmost men find themselves closing upon the
+leaders, and now the command is feeling its way.
+
+Among a lot of stunted trees, on a “bench” some few hundred feet above
+the level of the valley, Tanner has halted his men to take breath. Out
+in front, gliding from rock to rock, or flitting about among the trees,
+are the tireless Apaches. The tall forms of Truscott and Winser can be
+seen among them, apparently directing their movements. Every now and
+then a muffled clap of hand or a muttered call brings half a dozen of
+the wild-looking creatures to the side of some one of their number, who
+points in silence to broken twig, freshly-turned stone, or the print of
+moccasin on tuft of grass or ant-heap, then all move on again.
+
+Before them lies a dark ravine. To the left front towers a ragged slope
+that seems to reach to the skies. Across the ravine to the right there
+rises another, and right between these, into the gorge itself, the
+scouts are noiselessly, stealthily creeping. Tanner motions his men to
+keep back under the trees, and taking Ray with him, crouches forward to
+where Truscott is kneeling among the rocks.
+
+“In there, do you think?” he whispers.
+
+Truscott shakes his head and points upward.
+
+“They are much higher than this, I take it, and farther in; but the
+trail seems to lead this way.”
+
+Under the rocks the darkness is intense, and only slow progress is
+made; but every now and then patches of moonlight are found, and these
+are eagerly scrutinized. Two of the Indians, Kithaymi and Wawámecha,
+seem to hunt in couples. Side by side they crawl along, pointing
+eagerly with their long, bony fingers at objects that are fraught with
+deep meaning to them, but that would never attract the attention of
+a white man. At last an opening appears in the rocks to the left of
+the deep ravine in which they are working. A broad sheet of moonlight
+streams across the front, and Washington Charley, his eyes gleaming
+with excitement, his white teeth flashing through his lips, points
+aloft.
+
+“Got ’em,—plenty Tonto,” he whispers to Tanner.
+
+“How far up?”
+
+“No sabe,—mebbe so top,” is the answer.
+
+“Go ahead anyhow. Ray, bring up the men.”
+
+And now the climb begins in earnest. Noiselessly the scouts swarm up
+over rock and boulder, peering cautiously ahead all the time, creeping
+on all-fours to every ridge or projecting point, and warily studying
+the objects beyond before venturing farther. Close behind the foremost
+Indians Truscott and the sergeant slowly follow. Back some distance
+down the jagged slope comes Tanner with the command, noiselessly as
+white men can. In the darkness some one’s foot slips, a stone goes
+rolling downward, and the metallic clink of a canteen is heard, whereat
+one or two profane remarks are growled about among the men, and Tanner
+orders halt in a whisper. “Take off your canteens, men,” is the next
+word, and they are noiselessly deposited under the trees, only the
+doctor and his attendant being allowed to retain theirs. Then on they
+go again. Twice Ray has to turn and caution his men to take it easy.
+All are eager to get to the front. All know that somewhere, probably
+at the very top of the rugged mountain they are climbing, a band of
+Apaches are hidden, for only on the summits of these isolated buttes
+have they of late dared to build their rancherias, so untiring has
+been the search for them, so sudden the attack. Presently they come to
+ledges of rock so steep that only by using both hands and helping one
+another can they clamber up. Carbines and rifles are passed from man to
+man, and slowly, warily the ascent is continued, and still, far aloft,
+the summit stands before them. They have been climbing fully an hour in
+this way when the word halt is passed, or those in advance hold up a
+warning hand. Tanner and Ray again creep forward.
+
+“What is it, Jack?”
+
+“Can’t tell. There’s a deep hollow round that point. Charley said wait.”
+
+Tanner looks at his watch. “Nearly one,” he mutters, “and we’re not at
+the top yet. Did you ever see such a country?”
+
+Well might he ask! Clinging along the side of this huge spur from
+the main range, his men could look for miles and miles over a sea
+of tumbled rock and ravine, of jagged precipices and stony heights,
+of barren wastes or pine-crested slopes. Softened as it was by the
+silvery touch of the moon, there yet was in the entire scene the very
+abomination of desolation. Below them yawned a black gorge whose depths
+no eye could penetrate; before them an almost impracticable ascent of
+rock and tangled underbrush; around them nothing that was not savage
+and inhospitable. Already the keen night air began to cut in to the
+very marrow, and the men huddled together for warmth. “What stops us?”
+is the muttered query.
+
+Back come Charley and Toyáh. They are wild with excitement now, and
+breathlessly the former makes his report. Broken as is his English,
+his hearers readily understand him. They have found the hostiles, and
+it is a big rancheria. “Mebbe so two hundred Tonto. No can tell,” says
+Charley. “Come, captain; come see.” And noiselessly as before the three
+officers creep forward beyond the scouts, following the lead of the
+agile young chief, who, nearly as naked as on the day he was born,
+knows neither hunger, thirst, nor cold in the face of such a glorious
+prospect as lies before him. His savage soul thirsts for war, and here
+is his opportunity.
+
+Some two hundred yards they half climb, half creep, and at last arrive
+at a ridge or point, over and around which they are bidden to look, but
+not to expose head or hand, and to preserve intense silence. Peering,
+they see a shallow depression in the mountain. It lies between the
+rocky ridge on which they are crouching and a corresponding ridge some
+six hundred yards beyond. It is well filled with pines and stunted
+oaks, is walled in on the east by an almost precipitous cliff, while
+to the west the mountain-side slopes abruptly down into the depths of
+that unfathomable gorge. Save the glistening tree-tops and occasional
+outcropping of boulder, all is darkness. Yet Charley has said that
+there lay the rancheria; that in that hollow were probably over a
+hundred hostile Apaches. How does he know?
+
+Truscott points beneath them. “Look!” he says.
+
+The mountain breeze is beginning to sigh through the pines and to stir
+the dead leaves among the crevices of the rocks. As a little gust
+flutters the branches below them, from a dozen different points, deep
+down in this mountain fastness, little showers of sparks fly forth,
+and are as quickly lost to sight. They spring from the smouldering
+embers of tiny fires, invisible except from above, and this it is that
+now betrays the position of the hostiles, who, sleeping in fancied
+security, have not a sentinel to oppose to the coming foe.
+
+For five minutes Tanner and his two comrades study the situation in
+silence. Some of the fires are away off to the left under the cliff,
+others to the right nearer the ravine, more directly in front, and
+around them all they know the Apaches to be huddling. It _is_ a large
+rancheria, very probably Eskiminzin’s, the very one they are after.
+
+Now come the dispositions for attack. It is too dark for effective work
+down in that hollow, even with the moonlight to aid. Then too a bank
+of clouds has risen from the west and rolled up towards the zenith.
+The moon that has been of such assistance on the trail will soon be
+totally hidden, and in the darkness that must ensue all the advantage
+will be on the side of the natives. Tanner decides to wait until dawn.
+Meantime, his men must be cared for. None have overcoats or blankets:
+to light fires would be too hazardous. Orders are sent back to remain
+where they are in such shelter as they can find among the rocks, while
+he, with the Indian scouts and his officers, explores the ground
+around the rancheria. An hour’s patient, noiseless search results in
+the discovery that only from their side, the north, and for a short
+space on the west can the rancheria be approached. The main entrance
+or “trail” to it is evidently from the south, and they have come to
+it by the back way. And now the moon has disappeared and all is total
+darkness. It is impossible to send a detachment farther up the mountain
+to get around in rear of the position of the Tontos. The darkness
+prohibits that, and even in daylight, three hours at least would be
+consumed before they could expect to reach the desired point. Eagerly,
+tirelessly therefore, they watch their prey. The hours drag along, but
+there is no relaxation in their vigilance. At last, towards half-past
+four o’clock, Tanner directs Sergeant Winser to take his scouts down
+to the right, to feel their way along the edge of the ravine and get
+as far forward towards the rancheria as possible. Ray calls up and
+stations his men a few feet apart all along among the rocks from the
+ravine to the centre, while Tanner’s own company under Lieutenant Dana
+are disposed along the ridge almost as far as the base of the cliff to
+the left. Very slowly and cautiously has this been accomplished. Hardly
+a sound has been made that could be heard more than a few yards away,
+and now, as a grayish pallor spreads over the heavens above, and the
+tree-tops rustle in a wind that grows chiller every minute, Tanner’s
+little command, copying the tactics taught by long experience among the
+Indians themselves, lies crouching in readiness for its spring. Near
+the centre of the line and in front of all is the captain himself,
+kneeling beside a huge boulder; with him, prone upon the ground, lies
+Truscott; behind them crouch one of Tanner’s sergeants and “the Kid.”
+Every man has his orders,—silence, not a move, not a shot until the
+captain gives the word, then one volley and a rush in. The nearest
+fire opposite Tanner’s position seems about three hundred yards away,
+perhaps not quite so far. Little by little a wan light is stealing over
+the scene, and the men can begin to distinguish one another’s features;
+but in the hollow no forms are visible. Tanner looks impatiently at his
+watch again.
+
+“Quarter-past five,” he mutters, “and dark as Erebus down there yet.”
+
+Truscott makes no reply. His eyes are fixed on the glow of one
+particular fire near the middle of the hollow. He puts out his hand and
+lays it on Tanner’s arm, pointing with the other.
+
+Something shadowy and dim is moving down there about that fire. Twice
+it has passed between them and the blaze. Five minutes more and the
+blaze leaps upward, as though freshly fed, and the snap and crackle of
+burning twigs is heard. Distinctly now two human forms can be seen, and
+along all the watching line there runs a thrill. Some men cautiously
+bring their carbines to full-cock and ready; others, shivering ’twixt
+cold and excitement, look eagerly towards their silent captain but stir
+not.
+
+And now it is growing so light that objects beyond the rancheria are
+distinctly visible, and along the outskirts of the Indian bivouac
+before them the men can detect the outlines of rude shelters. Once
+again Truscott touches Tanner’s arm and points to the right front.
+Between the trees in the hollow and the edge of the deep ravine a
+level shelf or bench, covered with broken rocks, is now to be seen, and
+close to the edge of the trees stands the figure of an Indian. For a
+moment he is motionless, then, gun in hand, he comes lightly stepping
+along the bench straight to the point of the ridge, straight to where
+Ray is crouching with his men.
+
+“Quick, sergeant! slip down there and caution them not to fire,”
+whispers Tanner. “Get him alive, if possible.”
+
+Then follows a moment of intense strain and excitement. Almost every
+man in the command can see that Indian coming. Every one knows that a
+few steps more will bring him right in among Ray’s people. Then what
+will be the result? On he comes, unconscious of danger, nearer, nearer
+to his foes. Now he is clambering up the rocks, now he is among the
+stunted trees. Bang!
+
+“Fire!” rings the command. A crashing volley answers, a wild cheer
+echoes along the hill-side, and from their cover, scouts and troopers,
+officers and men, come rushing into the hollow, firing as they run. Of
+just what follows no one man can give accurate account. A few minutes
+of hot, blasting, raging work, of shrieks, shots, and uproar, of wild
+dismay among the startled Indians, of screaming squaws and children,
+of rallying-cries among the warriors, who spring to arms and open
+rapid but ill-aimed fire. In rush the soldiers among the “wickyups”;
+carbine and rifle, revolver and arrow, for two desperate minutes are
+dealing death in every direction. Even in their surprise the Indians
+fight savagely, like rats in a corner; but though their numbers are
+superior, they have no leadership, no organisation, no time to think,
+poor devils! In two minutes they are swept from their camp and are
+scattered in flight and terror along the mountain-side, abandoning
+everything.
+
+For ten or fifteen minutes the noise of the pursuit continues, shouts
+and cries and scattering shots, but there is no such thing as catching
+these fleet-footed Apaches, and the soldiers, fatigued with their
+long climb, and stiff with cold, soon give it up and straggle back
+to the rancheria they have won. The scouts hang longer at the heels
+of the fleeing Indians, but by seven o’clock the entire command has
+reassembled amid the ruins of the Apache camp, and the fight is over.
+
+Such being the general features, it is not easy to relate individual
+experiences. All was so sudden. The young Indian who had prematurely
+brought on the conflict by walking straight in among the men was the
+first prisoner, Ray and the men near him having scientifically pounced
+upon and wellnigh choked him to death before he knew where he was; but
+in the struggle somebody’s carbine was discharged, and as that meant
+an alarm to the whole Apache band, Tanner at once gave the order to
+fire, and with the supplementary shout of “Come on, men!” had rushed
+down the slope towards the rancheria, Truscott close beside him. On the
+right the scouts and some of Ray’s men had worked so far to the front
+as to be able to pour in a rapid crossfire, so that the resistance to
+the main attack was neither vigorous nor sustained; nevertheless, some
+few Indians had made good use of their arms, one old scoundrel never
+leaving his “wickyup,” but quietly squatting there, drove arrow after
+arrow at the leaders of the charging soldiers until a bullet laid him
+low, and one of these arrows has struck Jack Truscott full in the
+breast.
+
+Returning from the pursuit somewhat “blown,” Mr. Ray encountered his
+first sergeant and one or two men kneeling by the prostrate form of a
+comrade.
+
+“Who is it?” he asked, anxiously.
+
+“Kerrigan, sir. Stone dead. Shot through the heart, I think.”
+
+“I’m very sorry,” said Ray, gravely. “Have we lost many, do you know?”
+
+“They say two of Captain Tanner’s fellers are killed, sir, and there’s
+three or four wounded. Loot’n’nt Truscott’s hit, sir,” said one of the
+men.
+
+“Truscott!” exclaimed Ray, springing to his feet. “Where is he?”
+
+“Over there among the wickyups, sir.” And, picking his way through
+smoke and smouldering ember, occasionally stumbling over the stiffening
+corpse of some half-naked savage, Ray presently came upon Truscott
+himself, quietly seated at the foot of a tree, looking a trifle pale,
+perhaps, but placid as ever, while one of the men was cautiously
+unlacing his hunting-shirt.
+
+“What hit you, Jack?” said Ray, grasping his hand.
+
+“Nothing but a blunt arrow, luckily. There lies the archer,” said
+Truscott, pointing to the body of a hideous old Indian lying under the
+rude shelter of branches and twigs that had been his temporary home.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+     “‘Nothing but a blunt arrow, luckily. There lies the archer.’”
+
+                                                        Page 308.
+]
+
+“You’ve bled a good deal, anyhow. Here, Hogan, let me do that.” And,
+kneeling before his friend, Ray with nimble fingers unfastened the
+heavy shirt and threw it open at the throat. “Why, Jack, you’re worse
+than a stuck pig, and bleeding yet. Hogan, get me some water, and
+tell the doctor to come here.”
+
+“The doctor’s busy, Ray; you can patch it up easy enough. The thing
+only glanced on a rib, and hasn’t done any harm to speak of.” But even
+as he uttered the words Truscott’s head drooped wearily and his eyes
+half closed, a deeper pallor spread over face and brow. Ray threw his
+arm about his neck and drew the drooping head upon his shoulder. “You
+must be mighty faint, old man; lie still. We’ll have some water in a
+minute.”
+
+With that he threw back Truscott’s shirt with his right hand and opened
+the torn undershirt. All was soaked with blood. Something lying wet and
+warm upon the broad chest stopped his hand, and Ray drew it forth,—a
+dainty, filmy, embroidered handkerchief, dripping with the warm current
+from Truscott’s veins, and in one corner, half crimsoned, half spotless
+white, was embroidered the simple name—“Grace.”
+
+There was dead silence an instant. Then Tanner and Mr. Dana came
+running to them. Ray hurriedly thrust the handkerchief back into
+Truscott’s bosom and held out his bloody hand.
+
+“Don’t worry. He is only weak from loss of blood.” And Jack, hearing
+their anxious voices, opened his eyes and looked up with a grin. Then
+the doctor came, and speedily the flow was stanched, the necessary
+bandages applied, and, revived by a nip of brandy from the doctor’s
+flask, the adjutant sat up, while, as Ray expressed it, “Tanner took
+account of stock.”
+
+Fifteen Indians lay dead among the ruins of the rancheria, a few more
+lay among the rocks in the direction of their flight. Three squaws and
+some children were prisoners, and from them it was learned that the
+band was indeed that of Eskiminzin, that about one hundred and fifty,
+mostly warriors, were there encamped, and that Eskiminzin himself
+had escaped. On the other hand, though a severe punishment had been
+inflicted on the Indians, and they had lost their fastness and all
+their supplies and plunder, Tanner was distressed to find that two of
+his men were killed outright and several quite severely wounded. He
+had hoped by total surprise to have “jumped upon” the village before
+the Indians could really get to their arms, but that unlucky single
+shot had roused the rancheria, and in charging across the open slope
+into the Indian position he and the men with him had been much exposed.
+It was not altogether satisfactory, and Tanner’s plans were quickly
+decided. Truscott with a sufficient guard would convey the five wounded
+by easy marches back to Camp Sandy, while he, with the rest of the
+command, would push on in pursuit of Eskiminzin. Meantime, an Indian
+runner would go back with his report of the engagement.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Four days afterward, at even an earlier hour, just as the first
+trembling of the willows along the stream announced the stir of the
+morning breeze, two troopers forded the Sandy below the garrison and
+rode slowly up the slope to the parade. A light was burning at the
+guard-house, and others were gleaming in the company kitchens where
+the cooks were already at work getting coffee and breakfast for the
+men, for old Catnip was a firm believer in the theory that a soldier
+was far more apt to take an interest in the grooming of his horse when
+his own stomach was comfortably filled than when he was suffering for
+his breakfast. As a consequence, stable-duty was not the bugbear in
+the —th that it was in other regiments, where the men had to spend an
+hour or more, shivering and hungry and cross, spattering away with
+curry-comb and brush, and swearing _sotto voce_ at their steeds in the
+same listless and perfunctory manner with which they would have cleaned
+several muddy pairs of boots. In Pelham’s regiment the principal
+difficulty seemed to be that of restraining the men from whistling or
+singing at their work,—a thing which could not be permitted, because it
+was unprofessional from a military point of view.
+
+Inclining to the right, the leading horseman rode at rapid walk along
+under officers’ row, under the colonel’s quarters, at an upper window
+of which he gazed lingeringly as he passed; under in succession all the
+others until he came to the northernmost building. Here he dismounted,
+slowly and stiffly, and the other horseman, dismounting also, sprang
+forward and took the reins.
+
+Stepping to the door, the former turned the knob and pushed, but the
+door was locked. Going around to a side-window, he knocked upon the
+pane, and called,—
+
+“Glenham!”
+
+No answer. Thrice he knocked and called, and still there came no reply.
+Jack Truscott had returned to find himself locked out of his own house.
+
+“Go and ask the corporal of the guard to come here,” he said, wearily,
+seating himself upon the steps and taking the reins of the patient
+horses. His comrade walked rapidly away, and Truscott, leaning his
+head upon his hand, fell to thinking of the strange reception. His
+heart was sore, and vague distress and perplexity had possessed him.
+Immediately after the fight Tanner had penned a despatch to Colonel
+Pelham announcing the result of the affair, detailing his plans, and
+requesting him to send the hospital steward with assistance to meet the
+wounded whom Truscott was escorting, two of whom were so badly hit as
+to be regarded as in a dangerous condition; yet with the prospect of
+another battle before him, he could not permit his only medical officer
+to leave the command. The post-surgeon would undoubtedly come forward
+to meet the party,—so argued the doctor on duty with him,—and meantime,
+carried on the springy mule-litters, improvised out of saplings,
+the wounded would do as well as they could anywhere. For three days
+Truscott had plodded along in great pain and weariness himself, and
+in deeper anxiety on account of one of his men, who seemed sinking
+rapidly. At last, on the evening of the third day, he had reached
+Fossil Creek, where, at the latest, aid should have reached him, but
+aid there was none, and there the soldier died. Taking only an hour’s
+rest, weak and weary though he was, the adjutant decided to push right
+on to Sandy by a night ride, and secure the assistance so greatly
+needed by the other men.
+
+Presently the corporal of the guard came hurrying forward.
+
+“Who is officer of the day, corporal?”
+
+“Lieutenant Glenham, sir.”
+
+“Lieutenant Glenham! Why! there is no light in his room, and I cannot
+wake him.”
+
+“Beg pardon, sir. _The lieutenant has moved._ He lives in Lieutenant
+Dana’s quarters.”
+
+Truscott sat for an instant in stunned silence. When he spoke his voice
+was stern and strange.
+
+“Go and tell him I am here, and ask for the key of my quarters.”
+
+In two minutes the corporal returned with the key.
+
+“Is Mr. Glenham coming?” asked Truscott.
+
+“He didn’t say, sir. I told him you was here, and he didn’t answer.”
+
+“Then go and wake the post-surgeon. Give him my compliments, and ask if
+I can see him at once. Take the horses to the stable,” he added to the
+orderly, then unlocked his door, entered the dark sitting-room, and,
+after some fumbling on the mantel, found a match and struck a light.
+
+All was cold, cheerless, desolate. The hearth was piled with dead
+embers and ashes. Even the dogs had deserted the house. On the
+centre-table lay a paste-board box tied with ribbon, and the box was
+addressed to him—in her handwriting.
+
+Quickly he tore it open. Wrapped in tissue-paper lay his silver spurs;
+but with them, not a line, not a word.
+
+When the surgeon arrived, some ten or fifteen minutes later, the
+trumpets were just sounding the first call for reveille, and Jack
+Truscott was sitting motionless in his great easy-chair, his chin upon
+his hands, his elbows on his knees, his eyes staring vacantly into the
+empty fireplace. Not until the doctor had called him twice by name, and
+shaken him by the shoulder, did he rouse himself. One glance in his
+wan face was sufficient for the keen professional eye. He cut Truscott
+short in his attempt to detail the events of the past week.
+
+“Never mind that now,—swallow this,” he said, as he poured out some
+brandy from the decanter. “I’ll send the steward with the ambulance and
+supplies at once, and gallop down the valley myself after I get you
+settled. Of course no messenger has got in, or we would have met you
+forty-eight hours ago. Now, off with these clothes. Hurry up with that
+fire, Hogan. I want warm water quick as it can be had.”
+
+In vain Truscott protested that he must see the colonel and make his
+report.
+
+“I’ll do all your reporting for you, and to begin with report you sick
+from wound; and as I want no brain-fever patient on my hands, you’ll
+get to bed just as quick as I can dress that scratch, as you call it.”
+So talked the doctor, as he rapidly and skilfully divested Truscott of
+his blood-stiffened garments. “Mighty lucky for you that was a blunted
+arrow, man; you would have been spitted otherwise; that’s a jagged tear
+as it is. What had you on besides these things? Nothing? That’s queer!
+Oh, a handkerchief in there, was there? Of course that checked it a
+little, but not much.”
+
+At last the process of sponging and rebandaging was complete, and Mr.
+Truscott was snugly stowed away in bed. It had been a desperately hard
+ordeal, this interview with the doctor; for if ever man wanted to be
+all alone and to calmly think over his troubles, that man was Jack
+Truscott. But while he thoroughly intended that his patient should be
+left alone, it was not part of the doctor’s programme that he should be
+allowed to brood over his perplexities and distress, and “Pills” saw
+clearly enough that the mental condition of the adjutant was infinitely
+worse than the bodily. An attendant from the hospital had brought over
+some medicines, and then been sent in search of Major Bucketts. The
+latter came with anxiety and promptitude, and the doctor met him at the
+outer door.
+
+“Come in, Bucketts. I’ve got Truscott to bed now, and first he must be
+allowed to make his report to you for the colonel, then I want him to
+go to sleep and stay asleep, and to remain utterly undisturbed during
+the day. I’m going at once to Fossil Creek to meet the wounded, and I
+want you to see to it that Truscott is kept quiet, and _not one word
+of the business that has been going on must be allowed to reach him_.”
+Bucketts nodded grimly, and then, with the doctor, softly entered
+Jack’s room, and the two friends gripped hands.
+
+Truscott told his story uninterrupted, and the quartermaster listened
+to every detail until it was finished. Then he spoke.
+
+“Now, Jack, I understand it fully, and can give it to the colonel just
+as you gave it to me. Everything is going smoothly in the office. There
+isn’t a thing to demand your attention, and all you’ve got to do is to
+get thoroughly rested. Now I’m off, but every few hours I’ll be over to
+see if you want anything, and there will be a hospital attendant in the
+next room all day. I tell you the colonel and the chief will be tickled
+to death to hear what a larruping you gave Eskiminzin.”
+
+Then the doctor gave him a sleeping potion, darkened the room, and once
+more bent over him.
+
+“Jack, it is necessary that you should rest to-day. I’ll be back
+to-night, and will let you up then, but meantime sleep all you can. Now
+I’m going to see Mrs. Tanner, who is very anxious about the captain,
+and will rejoice in knowing of his safety. Then I’ll be ready to start
+down the valley.”
+
+Then fatigue and suffering were soon forgotten. Hour after hour
+throughout that chill December day Jack Truscott slept peacefully.
+Waking towards evening, he found that the attendant had set a little
+table by his bedside, and that besides the conventional tea and toast
+from the mess some dainty, tempting dishes were there in readiness for
+him.
+
+“Who sent these?” he asked.
+
+“Mrs. Tanner, sir, and Mrs. Wilkins. The quartermaster has been here
+several times, and the colonel called, and lots of the officers have
+been here to ask how you were, but my orders was not to let you be
+disturbed.”
+
+And so, feeling hungry, Jack took his tea, and when he next woke it was
+late in the night, and then he had nothing to do for it but lie awake
+and think, and he could think of nothing but why those spurs had come
+back to him in that ungracious way, and why had Glenham abandoned his
+roof.
+
+It was late on the following day when the doctor reached him, and found
+him much better. Truscott insisted upon getting up and dressing, and
+was surprised to find that the doctor seemed most unwilling to allow
+him to go out. Being determined, however, he carried his point, for,
+except a certain degree of weakness consequent upon loss of blood,
+and the painful and fatiguing journey, no reason against it could be
+assigned; but, while he was dressing, the doctor went forth and held
+a rapid and earnest conversation with two or three officers whom he
+met. There were others to whom he did not stop to speak at all, but
+proceeded on his way to the colonel’s. Mrs. Pelham and Lieutenant
+Glenham were seated on the piazza.
+
+“And how is Mr. Truscott now?” inquired her ladyship.
+
+“Rested end doing very well, madame, and yet he must be very prudent.
+Can I see the colonel?”
+
+“You will find him in the parlor, doctor.” And as he entered the house
+she turned to Mr. Glenham: “Now, Arthur, be firm and lose no time. You
+are to ride in half an hour, so it had better be settled at once.”
+
+Glenham rose, and merely saying, “I suppose you are right,” with a
+countenance in which perturbation and distress of mind were vividly
+portrayed, walked uneasily along the row. Nearing the adjutant’s
+quarters he looked back. There on the southernmost piazza stood Mrs.
+Pelham watching him. His face turned a shade paler, his teeth set, and
+he sprang up the steps and knocked at the door which for over a year he
+had banged open or shut without formality of any kind. It was opened by
+the hospital attendant.
+
+“Can I see Lieutenant Truscott?” he asked.
+
+“Hullo, Glenham! Come right in. Glad to see you,” rang Truscott’s voice
+from the sitting-room, and with extended hand and welcoming face he
+stepped to the doorway.
+
+In a constrained, embarrassed, half-dazed manner Glenham took the hand
+and dropped it.
+
+“I came to see you yesterday, Truscott, but they said you were not to
+be disturbed;” and as he spoke he stood uneasily at the door.
+
+“Come in, Glenham,” said Truscott. “Close the door and wait outside,”
+he continued, turning to the soldier. “Come in _here_.” And slowly
+Truscott turned again and looked him searchingly in the face. The
+younger man could not meet his eye. He went and leaned his elbow upon
+the sideboard, his head upon his hand.
+
+“You have something to tell me, youngster, and you don’t know how to
+begin,” said Truscott, gravely and kindly. “What is it?”
+
+For a moment Glenham answered not. His eyes were fixed on a picture
+of the Yosemite that hung upon the wall, but he tapped his top-boot
+impatiently with a little stick he carried. At last he broke forth,
+straightening himself and speaking rapidly; speaking as though by
+rote, as though it were a lesson he had learned and was now repeating;
+speaking in desperate haste, as though afraid either to stop or to be
+stopped, as though he feared his resolution might fail him.
+
+“I _have_ something to say. It is hard to do it, too, but it must be
+done. Your coming back suffering and wounded makes it all the harder.
+Truscott, I thought you were the best friend I had in the regiment. I
+thought you were the truest gentleman in it, but the events that have
+come to light recently have proven to me that you have not been fair
+and square with me, that you have not acted as a friend; and, as for
+the _other_ matters, I have nothing to say, except that you cannot
+expect me to believe in your friendship or in you as I did. The less
+said the better, I suppose, and so I moved into other quarters. Even
+now I don’t like to have you think that I am ungrateful for all the
+kindness you certainly showed me up to this fall, but, in future, our
+ways lie apart.” And having said his piece, he raised his eyes, and for
+the first time looked Truscott in the face. “And now,” he said, “I have
+come to ask for Miss Pelham’s whip.”
+
+While he was speaking, the face of his listener was a study. Pain,
+incredulity, indignation, and deep sorrow, all were depicted in the
+set, stern expression that fastened on his features. Truscott listened
+without one word, but very, very pale he grew, until her name was
+mentioned. Then the blood leaped to his forehead, fire flashed in his
+eyes, his hands clinched, and Glenham, who for an instant had met his
+gaze, looked nervously away.
+
+For a few seconds there was dead silence. Glenham could hear the throb
+of his own heart. Then Truscott spoke. Measured, calm, and slow, his
+words, nevertheless, were sharp and clear. There was not a trace
+of irritation in voice or manner, neither was there aught that was
+repellent. The self-control was simply perfect.
+
+“Let me clearly understand you, Glenham. Do you mean to say that
+you have fully satisfied yourself that I am no longer worthy your
+confidence and trust?”
+
+“Well, not that; not——Well, what I mean is that you have behaved
+neither as a friend to me, and, worse than that, to—to others who
+trusted you even more,” said Glenham, desperately.
+
+And still Truscott leaned there on the mantel, looking calmly at him.
+
+“And your information, Glenham. Is it the result of your own
+observation, or what you have been told?”
+
+“It comes to me in such a way that I cannot discredit it,” said
+Glenham, with changing color and manifest hesitation.
+
+“That is dodging the question. Have you seen or do you know of any act
+of mine to warrant your language, or is it all hearsay evidence?”
+
+“I have seen nothing, but what I have heard is—is undeniable.”
+
+“Then on purely one-sided statements you have decided upon your course
+in the matter. By every right I am entitled to hear, and to hear
+explicitly, what your allegations are. There are at least two sides to
+every story, as you ought to know; and what I had a right to expect of
+you was that you would never have condemned me unheard. You have done
+so, however, and now—let it stand. No,” he continued, holding up his
+hand, as Glenham attempted to speak; “I have now no desire whatever to
+hear or to answer your accusations. The time has passed. What is this
+about Miss Pelham’s whip?” he broke off, abruptly.
+
+“I have come for it,” said Glenham, sullenly.
+
+“Did Miss Pelham send you for it?”
+
+“N—o; but it is her wish to have it. She has returned your spurs, and—I
+consider it my duty to reclaim it of you.”
+
+“Your duty! How so?”
+
+“Miss Pelham and myself are engaged.”
+
+There was again a moment of intense silence. Then Truscott stepped to
+the wardrobe, took therefrom the dainty whip with its loop of dark-blue
+ribbon, and calmly handed it to Glenham without a word.
+
+Glenham took it and moved uneasily, wretchedly, towards the door. There
+he paused and looked back. Truscott had resumed his position at the
+mantel-shelf, very pale, very stern he looked, but there was not the
+tremor of a nerve or muscle. And Glenham was trembling from head to
+foot, and knew it.
+
+“Is there anything further?” asked Truscott, calmly.
+
+Again Glenham hesitated. At last he muttered,—
+
+“No, I believe not. Good-morning.”
+
+And with that he turned and left. Truscott waited until the sound of
+his footsteps died away. Then he closed and locked his door, stretched
+himself at full length in his easy reclining-chair, and, with his head
+thrown back, flung his arms over his eyes and lay there in silence.
+
+Meantime, Mr. Glenham returned to the colonel’s quarters with his
+prize, and Camp Sandy turned out to see him and his _fiancée_ go forth
+on their ride.
+
+It was a lovely December day, so bright and warm down in that deep,
+sheltered valley that in many of the quarters the windows were thrown
+open, and the flies were buzzing about as though jubilant over a
+renewed lease of a life that, after all, was not so much worth
+living. The ladies were out in force, three only being conspicuous
+by their absence from the front of the row. Mesdames Canker, Tanner,
+and Wilkins were not visible, and when the latter was not to be seen
+among the gatherings along the piazzas something extraordinary must be
+going on. Something extraordinary _was_ going on in this particular
+instance,—Mrs. Wilkins was devoting herself to Mrs. Tanner, who was ill.
+
+She had been failing for several days it seems, and had not been at
+all well since the night her husband marched away with his command.
+The doctor went frequently to see her, and was plainly anxious on her
+account, but the ladies had held aloof. That it was the proper and
+conventional thing for them to accost the perturbed physician—who was
+blessed with no wife of his own—with a perfunctory inquiry as to how
+Mrs. Tanner was getting along seemed to be conceded, but that it would
+be improper and unconventional in the last degree to go and visit the
+sick in this particular instance was apparently a unanimous opinion.
+He noted with much perplexity that the fair lips that framed the name
+of the gentle sufferer were pursed up, as though shrinking from the
+probable besmirching that would follow its mere mention. What could it
+mean?
+
+Briefly, it meant this,—and the sooner the details of this dismal
+episode are related and done with forever, the sooner will our story be
+finished and the better will it be for all parties concerned.
+
+Colonel Pelham, it will be remembered, had summoned Captain Canker
+in-doors after giving his adjutant instructions to prepare for his ride
+in search of Tanner’s column, and a very sad and trying conversation,
+to the colonel at least, had taken place.
+
+“Of course you noticed where Truscott came from; I saw you did,” said
+the colonel.
+
+The captain bowed assent with much solemnity of mien, but said nothing,
+and the commanding officer, motioning him to a seat, paced up and down
+the floor. Grace had fled to her room, and Mrs. Pelham, wide awake by
+this time, divining that something unusual was going on, concluded that
+she wanted a glass of water, or anything in the dining-room, slipped
+into her wrapper and down the back-stairs through the kitchen. The
+front-stairs always creaked under her weight, poor lady, and of course
+she did not wish to be seen in such toilet. Once in the dining-room
+it was no difficult matter to hear the conversation going on in the
+parlor. It was very brief. Captain Canker went away with the injunction
+of secrecy on his lips, but, with wild excitement and unmistakable
+delight, Mrs. Pelham heard enough to convince her that Mr. Truscott
+had been at Captain Tanner’s quarters long after midnight, and was
+virtually detected there by her husband. More than that, she had heard
+him say to Captain Canker,—
+
+“Then you will call upon him for an explanation immediately upon his
+return, and of course, if it prove unsatisfactory, his resignation must
+follow.”
+
+Poor Pelham! Attached as he was to his adjutant, the insidious
+statements of his wife, the letter of Mrs. Treadwell, the admission of
+Captain Canker that the matter had been a source of regimental gossip
+for a long time past, and finally, the very suspicious appearance of
+Mr. Truscott at Tanner’s quarters during Tanner’s absence, and long
+after other people had gone to bed, had together formed a combination
+too powerful for him. “I cannot bear to think it of him,” said he, “but
+the evidence is such that makes it at least necessary that he should
+leave this post.”
+
+An hour after, when he came up-stairs to his room, Mrs. Pelham had
+waylaid him and added fresh information of her own against Truscott,
+who was then speeding on his mission down the valley.
+
+“Nothing must be said of this, Dolly,” said the colonel, very
+miserably. “Of course, Mr. Truscott will be called to account on his
+return, and Captain Tanner will be properly notified.”
+
+Nothing said of it, indeed! Before Jack Truscott was twelve hours on
+his way mysterious whisperings were to be heard among the denizens of
+officers’ row. Ladies were flitting to and fro; significant glances
+shot from eye to eye; such words as “How shocking!” might have been
+heard murmured by rosy lips. Even those dear girls, the Crandalls,
+down for a few days’ visit from Prescott, were observed to take a
+lively interest in the murmured confab between the matrons on Mrs.
+Turner’s piazza. Then the colonel had been moody and forlorn at the
+office, had hardly spoken to Bucketts, had had a long, confidential
+talk with Captain Canker, with whom he rarely consorted, and Lieutenant
+Hunter had been sent for, and the three were closeted together for an
+hour, and at afternoon stables were again seen in close conversation;
+and Mrs. Pelham had spent that hour at Mrs. Turner’s, with her and
+with Mrs. Raymond, and later had had a long talk with Glenham; but
+Grace,—Grace did not leave her room all day.
+
+Nothing said of it, indeed! Inside of forty-eight hours: even while
+Truscott lay weak and pale from loss of blood down under the cold rocks
+of the Black Mesa; even while Mrs. Tanner, lonely and heart-sick,
+was lying on a bed of pain, gasping for breath, and longing for the
+presence of her devoted husband. Even while he, spurring from one
+savage conflict, was about leading his men in a gallant dash upon a
+concealed and powerful foe,—this was how it was told to more than
+one household at department headquarters. Even the virgin modesty of
+one, perhaps both, of those dear Crandall girls had not been proof
+against the delirious rapture of imparting such tidings. “Only think
+of it!” one (perhaps both) had written, “at two o’clock this morning
+Mr. Truscott was found at Mrs. Tanner’s (you know the captain is
+away), and he was ordered out of the post by Colonel Pelham at once.
+She, of course, is prostrate, unable to see any one, even if any one
+went,” etc., etc., etc. “Mrs. Turner has just told us. Everybody is so
+shocked.”
+
+Pah! Not to be spoken of, indeed! Even among his brother officers,
+who was there to stand up for Jack Truscott and stamp the thing as a
+lie? Who was there to act for Tanner and crush the vile slander in
+the throat of the first man who dared to breathe it? Who was there
+to demand that no steps should be taken, no more be said, until he
+who stood accused could return and face his accusers? Not Canker. He
+believed him guilty. Not Glenham. Mrs. Pelham had taken care that he
+should be fully informed of everything she knew and much that she did
+not; and he now believed Truscott guilty of treachery to himself and
+dishonor towards Tanner. Not Raymond. He was one of the many who,
+knowing nothing against a man, believing him true and worthy, yet dare
+not stand up for him against such odds, for fear that it might be true
+after all, and then he would have made a fool of himself. Not Crane,
+Carroll, or Hunter. We know what manner of men they were. But where was
+sturdy old Bucketts? Where was Turner?
+
+Bucketts was one of those men who seeing others conversing in whispers
+would walk away. He didn’t want to know what men felt obliged to
+talk of in that way. Turner was another, and so was the doctor. Thus
+it happened that as no one man in the garrison wanted to broach the
+subject to either of the three, as two of them were destitute of the
+natural sources of such information, and the wife of the third had
+good reasons of her own for saying nothing to her lord and master on
+the subject,—thus it had happened that not until the third day after
+Truscott’s departure did the story come to the ears of Bucketts, and
+then there was a row. It came about in this way. Glenham notified
+him of his intention of moving at once from Truscott’s quarters into
+Dana’s, and in his confused explanation he let drop some allusions to
+a total rupture of his relations with the adjutant, for which Bucketts
+soundly rated him, so that Glenham, goaded and stung, had rushed into
+a detailed account of the whole scandal as he understood it, poor
+boy! and Bucketts, foaming with indignation, had called upon Turner.
+Turner had fired up instantaneously and demanded of his wife what she
+knew, and then returning to the quartermaster’s, they had held a brief
+consultation, had gone to the colonel, and placed their views before
+him.
+
+“As a matter of simple justice, Colonel Pelham, I ask that you take no
+steps in this matter until Mr. Truscott is given an ample opportunity
+to explain,” said Captain Turner. “I am confident of his innocence, and
+more than confident of hers. What is more, I think that every effort
+should be made to stop all talk at once. Mrs. Tanner, too, is ill.” And
+Colonel Pelham had risen and warmly shaken hands with the captain, and
+thanked him for the first words of cheer and confidence he had heard.
+Then Turner went home and asked Mrs. Turner whether she had been to see
+Mrs. Tanner in her illness; finding that she had not, he marched her
+forthwith to Tanner’s quarters. Mrs. Tanner was not well enough to see
+them, and begged to be excused.
+
+“Please say to Mrs. Tanner that Captain and Mrs. Turner called, and
+that they beg to know if they can do anything to assist her. May we
+not take Rosalie a while?” asked Turner in a loud, hearty voice, that
+reached the invalid as she lay upon the lounge in her room; and then
+meeting Mr. Hunter, he had scowled at him so blackly that that young
+gentleman concluded it best not to call there that evening, as had been
+his intention.
+
+As for Bucketts, he and the colonel had some further talk, at the
+expiration of which the quartermaster had stumped across parade, and
+meeting Captain Canker, had stared him in the face and cut him dead.
+
+And then Mrs. Wilkins had come to the fore. The story reached her
+as quick as it did the majority of the ladies, and after staring a
+minute in blank amaze at her informant, she demanded to know how it
+had reached him, for, in this case at least, Mr. Wilkins was the
+transmitter. Then, as it came from her husband, the lady promptly
+averred that she didn’t believe a word of it, and next she had gone off
+to extract all that could be told by the not unwilling lips of Mrs.
+Turner, “who had everything direct from Mrs. Pelham herself.”
+
+Now such was the element of antagonism in this unterrified lady that
+she needed only this announcement to convince her that the whole story
+was an outrage. Of course Mrs. Turner properly hoped it might prove so,
+and trusted that Mrs. Tanner might be vindicated. “But it all looked
+very queer.”
+
+“Trash!” said Mrs. Wilkins. “I suppose I’ve found fault with Mrs.
+Tanner like the rest of you (it sounded almost like the rest o’ ye’s),
+and as for Jack Truscott, I suppose he laughs at me; but mind you, Mrs.
+Turner, there’s plenty of ways to explain this, and I don’t believe
+there’s a thought of wrong in that little woman, and I’ll go to her
+the first thing to-morrow.”
+
+And go she did, and never hinting at anything out of the way in the
+garrison, and parrying everything like a question as to whether any
+of the other ladies had come to see her, very useful had she made
+herself about the house, and very much had she cheered her patient and
+grateful little friend, so that towards afternoon on the day succeeding
+Mr. Truscott’s return she was down on the piazza and eager to see
+him. The doctor joined her as she sat there with Mrs. Wilkins, warmly
+congratulating her upon her improvement, and then Truscott came. Oh,
+how pale, how strange he looked! No wonder her soft brown eyes filled
+with tears as she gazed up into his face and pressed his cold hand.
+He who had been her faithful friend through everything, he who had so
+recently shared her husband’s dangers and successes.
+
+“Why, Jack! How ill you look! You ought to be stretched out here in
+this chair,—not I. You must have suffered terribly.”
+
+But he smiled gently, seated himself by her side, and with Rosalie upon
+his knee and the eyes of Mrs. Wilkins and the doctor closely watching
+him, he told the story of the stirring fight. Catching sight of him,
+Turner and Bucketts joined the little party, and when the story was
+done all sat there chatting, and Mrs. Pelham coming suddenly upon
+her own piazza, stared as she saw the gathering at Mrs. Tanner’s.
+Then there rose the sudden clatter of hoofs, and Grace Pelham and Mr.
+Glenham came at rapid lope along the road. With the color rushing to
+her cheeks, the former bowed gravely in acknowledgment of the upraised
+caps of the officers, who stood as she passed, and then resumed their
+seats.
+
+“Mrs. Wilkins tells me the engagement is announced,” said Mrs. Tanner,
+and nobody seemed to feel called upon to say anything further. An
+orderly came running over from the office.
+
+“A letter from the captain, mum,” he said, with a grin of delight, as
+he handed a soiled missive to Mrs. Tanner. “Sergeant Stein is just in
+with despatches.”
+
+Eagerly she seized and tore it open. Then with sparkling eyes and
+reddening cheeks, with lips parted and her breath coming quick and
+fast, she hurriedly read the lines.
+
+“Oh, thank God! thank God!” she cried, as she threw her arms around
+Rosalie and drew her to her bosom. “Thank God, darling, papa will be
+here for Christmas, and all is well. Oh, Jack, it’s such glad news!
+Yes, read it. Read it aloud if you like,” though the heightened color
+in her cheek warned him not to do that. “They have had another fight,
+and now the Indians have scattered in every direction, and they are
+coming home,—will be here in two days. Oh, Rosalie, aren’t you glad?”
+And mother and child clung rapturously to one another.
+
+“Ah, Mrs. Tanner,” said the doctor, “my occupation is gone. I’ll leave
+you now. Come, Bucketts; come, Turner. I want to chat with you a while,
+and leave Truscott to plan for Christmas with Rosalie.” Yet, as he
+passed, he said in a low tone to Mrs. Wilkins,—
+
+“Don’t let her excite herself too much.”
+
+And that worthy dame nodded appreciatively.
+
+But Bucketts, of course, had to go at once to the office to see
+Sergeant Stein, and get the despatches for Colonel Pelham. The colonel
+had been there for a few moments only immediately after guard-mounting,
+and then, saying he did not feel very well, had gone to his quarters.
+In five minutes, Major Bucketts, as acting adjutant, appeared at the
+colonel’s door with the despatches in his hand, and was met by Mrs.
+Pelham.
+
+“The colonel is sleeping now, major, and he has been far from well for
+two days. Is it anything important?”
+
+“Despatches from Captain Tanner, madame, with details of another fight.
+I think the colonel ought to see them, as he may want to report the
+result at once to department headquarters.”
+
+And so Bucketts was admitted to the colonel’s bedside, and found him
+indeed feverish and forlorn. He roused himself at the mention of
+despatches, and listened eagerly as the quartermaster read them aloud.
+Grace stole in on tiptoe, and took her father’s hot hand; but there
+was breathless attention to every word, the colonel interjecting an
+occasional “good!” “tip-top!” and an enthusiastic “bully for Ray!”
+when, in brief, soldierly words, Captain Tanner gave high praise to
+that young officer for heading the dash in the second fight, and then
+came the “_finale_.”
+
+“I cannot close this report without expressing my great obligations to
+Lieutenant Truscott, to whose tireless energy the whole success of the
+expedition is due. Without him we would have missed the trail entirely,
+and it was he who guided us to the rancheria and led the attack in
+person, receiving a painful wound as his share of the casualties.”
+
+Here Bucketts stopped and waited a moment. Nobody said anything.
+
+“Bully for Truscott say I,” remarked Major Bucketts, very calmly, on
+satisfying himself that no one else proposed to express commendation
+where his friend was concerned. Then he finished the despatches, and
+waited for instructions.
+
+“Have copies made of these to be sent by to-morrow’s mail with my
+report, major, and I want a brief synopsis to be sent at once by
+telegraph. I suppose I’ll have to do it myself,” he added, drearily.
+Already he missed beyond expression the arm on which he was accustomed
+to lean. He hated to write. Everything of that kind fell on Truscott’s
+shoulders. The colonel had only to indicate what he needed and it was
+ready for his signature on his desk; but now he could not ask Truscott.
+
+“How is Mr. Truscott?” he asked, moodily.
+
+“Much better, sir. I left him talking with Mrs. Tanner, who has just
+been receiving our congratulations,” said Bucketts, with a tone largely
+suggestive of “Whether _you_ like it or not,” as he looked squarely
+at Lady Pelham. It is to be feared that his zeal for his friend the
+quartermaster was not strengthening his own position, a thing that is
+of so rare occurrence as to warrant its being made a note of. Then
+Major Bucketts bowed himself out, and went back to the adjutant’s
+office, where for some time he was busied over the recent despatches.
+After making out the “synopsis,” he carried his work to Truscott, who
+was still seated on Mrs. Tanner’s piazza; and as he approved, the
+necessary copy was made and carried to the colonel for his signature.
+Stable-call had sounded when Major Bucketts turned to leave the
+colonel. The latter called him back.
+
+“Bucketts, just close that door and come here, will you?”
+
+The quartermaster obeyed.
+
+“Has anything been said? Has Canker spoken to Mr. Truscott yet?”
+
+“I do not know, sir. I had no idea that it was your intention to
+delegate this matter to Captain Canker,” said Bucketts, a tremor of
+surprise and indignation betraying itself in his voice.
+
+The colonel colored hotly under the unmistakable reproach in the
+staff-officer’s tone. Oh, Bucketts, had you not learned in your years
+of army service that discretion was the better part of valor, when
+defending a friend against a commander’s ire?
+
+“There were reasons why Captain Canker was selected to speak for me,”
+said the colonel, with much dignity and reserve; “but now it may be
+well to postpone action until Captain Tanner’s return, since he is so
+soon to be here. You will see Canker at stables, and may say so for
+me.” And then Bucketts withdrew.
+
+That evening as the officers came strolling back from the mess-room
+they noted with surprise an unusual gathering in front of the colonel’s
+quarters. A broad light streamed from the open doorway, and in it, only
+partially dressed, with ashen face and holding an open despatch in his
+hand, stood Colonel Pelham apparently questioning two soldiers in rough
+scouting-rig, who had dismounted and were holding their panting horses
+by the rein. One of them was weeping like a woman. Grace, covering her
+face in her hands, ran back into the house. Glenham, white as a sheet,
+stood beside the colonel, dazed and stupefied.
+
+“What’s happened?” asked some of the party; and Truscott and the
+doctor, walking together behind the rest, hurried eagerly forward just
+in time to see Mrs. Pelham throw a shawl over her shoulders and scurry
+up the row.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said Colonel Pelham, in a voice choking with emotion, “we
+have lost our best. Captain Tanner was killed last night at sunset.”
+
+For an instant there was an awful stillness, broken only by the sobs of
+one of the soldiers, who had buried his face in his horse’s mane and
+thrown his arms around the sturdy neck. Then the doctor spoke.
+
+“God of heaven! Who can break it to her?”
+
+“Mrs. Pelham has gone,” said Glenham, briefly.
+
+“_What!_ Mrs. Pelham! For God’s sake stop her!”
+
+Two men sprang from the group and rushed in pursuit,—Truscott and the
+doctor. Her hand was on the bell as the latter seized it.
+
+“Mrs. Pelham, stop!” said he. “I adjure you not to speak to her.”
+
+“Why not, pray? Who but the commanding officer’s wife should be the
+first to tender sym——” The door opened and she attempted to enter.
+Instantly she was seized. The doctor’s arms were round her waist,
+Truscott had her hand.
+
+“Madame, you must not——” said the former; but she furiously interrupted
+him.
+
+“Unhand me, I say! Who dares restrain me! This outrage——”
+
+And here with alarm upon her face Mrs. Tanner came running into the
+hall. Truscott sprang within the door.
+
+“Get her away quick, doctor,” he muttered, and then, taking Mrs.
+Tanner’s hand, strove to lead her back into the parlor, but in his
+death-like pallor she saw the awful premonition.
+
+“My husband?” she gasped. “What is it? Quick!” and then the doctor saw
+it was too late. He too sprang to her side, releasing Mrs. Pelham, who
+between rage, agitation, and possibly genuine emotion burst into tears
+and threw herself forward with outstretched arms.
+
+“Oh, my poor, stricken friend! Oh, poor little——” And then Rosalie’s
+agonised cry rang out upon the parade.
+
+“Oh, mamma, mamma! Have they killed my papa?”
+
+Now with wild, dilated eyes she looks from one to another. What need to
+ask? In one frightful second the whole truth flashes over her. The soft
+little white hands are thrown tightly clinched in air; she totters: one
+gasping cry issues from her ashen lips and down she would have gone to
+earth but for the strong arms that seize and raise her.
+
+White as her own is Truscott’s face as he bears her up the stairs. He
+looks back for one instant as others come rushing in, and sterner,
+lower than ever before, they hear the words,—
+
+“Get that woman away! Doctor, come quick!”
+
+“It is heart-disease, madame, and you would have killed her,” says the
+doctor, as he hands her ladyship over to the colonel, who all too late
+has come tearing after her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+That was a wretched night at Sandy. Accustomed as the regiment had
+been to battle, and murder, and sudden death, there was something
+indescribably mournful in the circumstances attending Tanner’s tragic
+fate. He had been sent away on the very anniversary of the death of
+his first-born, refusing in his soldierly way to allow the commanding
+officer to be informed of a fact that might lead to a change in the
+detail, since there were so many ready and eager to go in his stead. He
+had had two sharp and successful encounters with the very band which
+he had been sent out to punish, and, having scattered them to the four
+winds, was joyfully on his way homeward to join his dearly-loved wife
+and little ones in time for Christmas; had written the glad news of
+his coming (Ah, was she not re-reading that blessed letter to Rosalie
+when the blow came?), and, when only two days’ march away from the
+post, as they bivouacked at evening beside a rapid-running stream, he
+and some two or three men had stolen forth to “stalk” a deer they saw
+on a hill-side not five hundred yards away. Half an hour afterwards
+four shots were heard in quick succession, then shouts and scattering
+shots, and Ray, springing to his feet, seized his carbine, and, with a
+yell of “Come on,—_lively_, men!” had darted off through the thickets.
+In three minutes they were standing over Tanner’s lifeless body.
+Too late to succor, but not too late to avenge. It seems that three
+or four Indians, relatives probably of the prisoners whom they were
+bringing in, had followed the command on its homeward march, and from
+their ambush among the rocks it had been an easy thing to pick off the
+captain as he crept up the hill-side, intent only on getting a shot
+at the deer. Two rifle-bullets had pierced him through and through,
+and death must have been instantaneous. The skulking foe of course had
+fled, but Ray had his scouts in pursuit in less than no time, and long
+before dark two were overtaken and died fighting. Two of Tanner’s own
+men were sent forward with a brief report of the sad affair, hurriedly
+written by Lieutenant Ray, and on the following morning the detachment,
+bringing the lifeless remains of their late commander, resumed their
+march in bitter sorrow.
+
+And now, what was the effect in the garrison? The tidings flew from
+mouth to mouth, and in shocked, solemn silence the news was heard
+by officers and men. In the entire regiment no man had been more
+universally respected than Tanner, few, if any, were as popular; but,
+deeply as they mourned him, the one question that seemed to rise first
+to all lips was, “How will she bear it?” All hearts seemed to turn at
+once to her, and women who but yesterday would resent the faintest word
+of praise lavished upon Mrs. Tanner were now flocking to her quarters,
+where she lay hovering ’twixt life and death.
+
+Mrs. Wilkins had been the first to hurry in, summoned by the doctor,
+and very soon Truscott had come down-stairs and taken sobbing,
+terrified, lonely little Rosalie in his arms. Presently Mrs. Raymond
+and Mrs. Turner appeared, and with awe and sympathy in their faces
+begged the doctor to let them be of some assistance. He was flitting
+nervously to and fro: now up in the sick-room, where she lay moaning
+and senseless; now coming to the parlor to exchange a few words with
+Truscott. Then he had telegraphed to Prescott, begging that his
+comrade, the post-surgeon at Whipple, might be sent at once. Lady after
+lady had strived to induce Rosalie to leave Truscott’s arms and come
+to her for the night, but she seemed to shrink from all and to turn
+shudderingly, clingingly, with fresh outbursts of tears, to him; and,
+despite the pain it caused him, Jack held her to his breast and strove
+to soothe her to sleep. At last, just as the first call for tattoo was
+sounding, worn out with her wild grief, the sunny, curly head drooped
+upon his shoulder and the heavy eyelids closed in slumber. Still he
+carried her to and fro, as he had when she was a mite of a baby, and
+as he looked down into the innocent, helpless, trusting little face,
+never more to know a father’s kiss and blessing, great tears stole from
+his own hot eyes, and burying his worn, haggard face among her bonny
+curls, Jack Truscott sobbed silently in his grief. And on this picture
+Grace Pelham entered, looked one moment with a world of wistfulness,
+of entreaty, of love, tenderness, sympathy and utter misery in her
+swimming eyes, then turned and fled—unseen.
+
+All that weary night Truscott haunted the parlor, while the doctor and
+Mrs. Wilkins kept watch and ward o’erhead. Sometimes he snatched a few
+minutes of broken sleep upon the sofa, but morning found him pale and
+haggard and looking worse than when he returned from the scout.
+
+“This will never do, Jack,” said the doctor. “You must go home and get
+to bed.” But Truscott avowed his intention of going with the ambulance
+to meet the remains. There seemed to be nothing he could do there. She
+had recovered consciousness once towards morning, but only to fall away
+again. “Still,” said the doctor, “if we can only keep her quiet we may
+pull her through. It is the waking I dread as much as anything else.”
+
+At stables in the morning Colonel Pelham did not appear. A group of
+officers—Canker, Crane, Carroll, and Glenham—were in conversation,
+when Truscott walked rapidly past them, merely nodding, and entered
+the quartermaster’s corral. Coming out again, he was heard to say, as
+though speaking to the driver of the ambulance,—
+
+“Come round to my quarters, then. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
+
+With that he was again passing them, when the senior officer, near whom
+was standing an orderly, called to him,—
+
+“Mr. Truscott!”
+
+“What is it?” said the adjutant, surprised at the formality of the
+salutation, but not checking his rapid walk.
+
+“I wish to see you, sir,” called Captain Canker after him, reddening
+with chagrin as he did so.
+
+“I’m in a hurry now, captain,” replied Truscott, absently. “Come to my
+quarters.” And on he went, plunged in his gloomy thoughts, and in an
+instant had entered the band-stables, out of sight.
+
+Canker fairly snapped with rage. Treated with disrespect and indignity
+by the very officer of all others whom he most desired to get upon the
+hip—the very officer whom it was now in his power doubly to humiliate.
+Ignored in his high position as commander of the post, now that Colonel
+Pelham was sick in quarters, what better opportunity needed he?
+
+“You heard that language, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Carroll, Mr.
+Glenham, come with me.” And hurrying after the adjutant, Captain Canker
+entered the band-stables in high dudgeon.
+
+“Captain,” suggested Carroll, “I’m certain that Truscott had no idea
+you were in command of the post.”
+
+“That’s d—d nonsense, sir! It’s his business to know.”
+
+And though Mr. Carroll was confident that, being on sick report, and
+furthermore, utterly taken up with his cares at Tanner’s quarters,
+Mr. Truscott did not know that the colonel had again taken to his bed
+and turned over the command at reveille to the senior captain, he
+was diplomatic enough to hold his peace. It is always safer to let a
+comrade get rapped over the knuckles undeservingly than to attempt to
+restrain the impetuosity of such commanders as Canker, and of many
+another not exactly like him; and, besides, Carroll possibly wanted to
+see how “His Infallibility,” as Truscott had once been nicknamed, would
+stand a reprimand.
+
+They found him in earnest conversation with the sergeant-major and
+with the corporal of Tanner’s troop who had brought in the news. He did
+not notice their approach.
+
+Canker rapidly stepped to his side, his eyes flashing, his face flushed
+with passion.
+
+“Mr. Truscott, did you hear me say that I wished to see you?”
+
+“Certainly, captain,” said Jack, very calmly, but looking vastly
+surprised at the sudden appearance of this irate captain and his
+satellites.
+
+“Then how dare you pass me by, sir?” and at the furious, undignified
+tone the men looked up in amaze. Every brush and curry-comb seemed to
+need cleaning at that minute, and the non-commissioned staff and band,
+almost to a man, ceased grooming.
+
+Worn, wearied, harassed both mentally and physically, Truscott was in
+no condition to calmly submit to an unjust overhauling from a man of
+Canker’s calibre. The blood rushed to his face at the arrogance, the
+utter lack of consideration, of decency in the captain’s manner. But
+with perfect self-poise, despite it all, he courteously spoke.
+
+“I had no idea that you were in command of the post, as I presume you
+must be.”
+
+“You ought to have known it, sir, if you had sense enough to know
+anything.”
+
+And now Mr. Carroll was turning away in disgust, and Glenham stood a
+picture of indignant helplessness. Truscott turned from red to white,
+and looked squarely into Canker’s eyes as the latter stormed furiously
+on.
+
+“I’ve had abundant opportunity to remark your discourtesy and slights
+on previous occasions, sir, and now you have the insolence to ignore
+my authority as commanding officer in the presence of the command. I——”
+
+“One moment, captain,” said Truscott, raising his hand deprecatingly,
+and speaking with the utmost self-control and respect. “Let me repeat,
+that I had no idea you were in command. I was deeply engrossed in
+thought of far different matters. I thought you merely wished to speak
+to me about some personal affairs, as I’m not on duty as adjutant
+this——”
+
+“No, by God!” burst in Canker, to whom Truscott’s power over himself
+was only an additional goad. With all the malignity of a low,
+tyrannical nature, what he wanted was an excuse to rasp and humiliate
+the adjutant, not to listen to explanations that were establishing the
+latter’s entire innocence of wrong so far as intent was concerned. “No,
+by God! you are not on duty as adjutant; and a most fortunate thing it
+is for the regiment that in that capacity your days are numbered.”
+
+Truscott simply stared at him in surprise and absolute pity, and Canker
+saw it.
+
+“I’m not blowing, sir, as you seem to think. Four days ago the
+colonel directed me to see you and request your resignation.” And
+still Truscott stood calm and stately. It was simply exasperating to
+poor Canker. Determined to break through that impenetrable armor of
+reserve and dignity, he flew on another tack. “You were giving some
+instructions to the driver of the ambulance just now. By what right,
+sir?”
+
+“I merely asked him to stop for me at my quarters. I desired to go down
+the valley to meet Captain Tanner’s remains.”
+
+“I have detailed Captain Turner for that purpose, sir. You cannot go.”
+
+“I did not expect to go in an official capacity, but it never occurred
+to me for an instant that any one would prohibit my going to meet the
+body of my oldest and most intimate friend.”
+
+“It _is_ prohibited, sir, emphatically, and for excellent reason. From
+the colonel down, sir, it is prohibited, and it is a brazen-faced
+outrage on your part to expect to be allowed to go.”
+
+Even Carroll and Glenham here stepped forward as though to check him,
+and Carroll seized his arm.
+
+“Captain, captain, for God’s sake, not here! Think where you are.”
+
+And suddenly, as though realizing that every man was listening, Canker
+turned.
+
+“I will see you again about this, Mr. Truscott, but understand,—you
+cannot go.”
+
+For an instant Truscott stood dazed, then hurried after them,
+overtaking the party at the gate. From the adjoining stables Captain
+Raymond and Mr. Wilkins were approaching.
+
+“Captain Canker,” said Truscott, and now fire was flashing from his
+eyes, “you have used words which require immediate explanation.”
+
+“I say, sir,” almost shouted Canker, “that you are the last man in
+the regiment to be allowed to go to meet the remains of a man _we_
+honored, sir! _Your_ conduct has been too monstrous. You have been long
+suspected, but now the thing is known throughout the whole garrison.”
+
+“What thing, sir?”
+
+“Your grossly improper, _criminal_, probably, relations with Mrs.
+Tanner——”
+
+Crash!
+
+Something like a flash of lightning had seemed to shoot from Truscott’s
+shoulder, and with a thud, plunge, and sputter Captain Canker lay
+sprawling on his back, after ploughing up several square feet of
+gravel, and Raymond and Carroll had thrown themselves on Truscott, who,
+a living embodiment of fury, stood glaring at the stunned foeman at his
+feet.
+
+“No more of this, Truscott! I don’t blame you. I heard it,” said
+Raymond. “Go at once to your quarters. I’ll see that he is looked
+after.” And escorted by Carroll, the adjutant slowly, silently, walked
+away.
+
+“Send Bucketts here at once,” he said to Carroll, as he entered his
+hall and closed the door after him.
+
+Meantime the other officers had raised Canker to his feet. He had
+been knocked half senseless by the force of the blow, and blood was
+streaming from his nostrils, and his eye was rapidly closing, but his
+first impulse on rising was to get at Truscott. He was blind with rage,
+and it required great effort to control him. Little by little the
+gravity of the situation overcame his fury, and he suffered himself to
+be led to his quarters; but half the command, probably, had seen the
+affair, and with huge delight the men were commenting on the scientific
+manner in which “the adjutant knocked ould Canker out of time in one
+crack.”
+
+Raymond was urging Canker to take no steps in the matter until he had
+cooled down.
+
+“Of course the whole thing will get to the colonel’s ears at once, and
+you had better let him deal with the matter,” said Raymond.
+
+But Canker thought he knew his own business best, and sent at once
+for Major Bucketts, who stumped in with his customary expression of
+profound gravity, while the commanding officer was being plastered with
+brown paper and vinegar by the hands of his flurried and tearful wife.
+
+“Major Bucketts, you will place Mr. Truscott in close arrest at once.”
+
+“By whose order, captain?” said Bucketts, imperturbably.
+
+“By mine, of course, sir. I command the post.”
+
+“Very well, sir,” said Bucketts, and vanished.
+
+Ten minutes afterwards he banged the hilt of his sabre against
+Truscott’s door and entered, finding Jack stripped to the waist,
+bathing, and attempting to rebandage the gash on his breast, which
+recent muscular action seemed to have reopened.
+
+“Just hold on a moment, Jack, till I commit you in due form, and then
+I’ll help you at that. You are hereby placed in close arrest, by order
+of Captain Canker; and may God have mercy on your soul, and you on
+his’n! What did you hit him with? he’s knocked all one-sided.” Thus
+irreverently and flippantly discoursed the quartermaster, as he threw
+off his sabre, belt, and gauntlets and went to the assistance of his
+friend.
+
+“I haven’t my spurs on, Jack, but you’ll observe the arrest all the
+same, and won’t go back on me. Never mind what it’s about now. Let’s
+get you comfortable first.” And by dint of some minutes’ work Major
+Bucketts succeeded in getting the bandage back where it belonged and
+Jack into his clothes and easy-chair.
+
+Truscott lay there very pale and quiet, saying nothing, but there was
+a look in his face Bucketts did not like to see; something terrible in
+its intensity. Stepping in next door to the doctor’s quarters, he found
+him plunging his head in cold water and listening to Carroll’s excited
+description of the affray. The quartermaster boiled with rage when he
+heard the language which had called forth Truscott’s blow, and then
+requested the doctor to come with him a moment.
+
+“I want you to be with me when I have my talk with Jack. Of course,
+_now_ he has got to be told the whole thing; and the question is, can
+he stand it now? Go and see him.”
+
+So the doctor had gone, and in the course of half an hour returned to
+Bucketts, saying that Truscott was calm and composed, but insisted upon
+knowing the uttermost detail of the story in which his good name was
+involved. “He will have to rest until we do tell him, and I think it
+best we should go at once,” was the doctor’s decision; so they went.
+
+“Jack,” said Bucketts, “I’ll make it short as I can, yet tell you all I
+know, and I believe all anybody knows, and if I go wrong, doctor, you
+correct me. Not until the day before you got back did I know anything
+about it, but the doctor and myself have gone to the bottom of the
+whole story. For some reason Mrs. Pelham has been determined to get
+you away from this post. The ladies all say that, and it is mainly
+through them that we reached the facts. She has been steadily at work
+ever since you met them at Prescott in striving to prejudice people
+against you, and finally she got hold of some infernal story circulated
+by that girl the Tanners discharged at Phœnix, to the effect that you
+had been unduly intimate with Mrs. Tanner when in Kansas, and she has
+been putting the colonel up to it ever since. Now of the facts I can
+only tell you this. She has a letter from Mrs. Treadwell saying that
+when Tanner was in the field you came to Phœnix, and she saw Mrs.
+Tanner crying in your arms in her parlor. The night Tanner left here
+Miss Pelham and Hunter saw Mrs. Tanner leaning in your arms out there
+on the bluff, and the night you were wanted when those despatches came
+after midnight, and you could not be found, the colonel and Canker saw
+you coming out of her house. I know, and the doctor knows, that it is
+all susceptible of explanation. But those facts were industriously
+circulated everywhere about the post, and we would have told you
+yesterday but for the doctor, who said you were not well enough.”
+
+To all this, told rapidly and quietly, Truscott listened without a
+word. He knit his brow at times, a look of surprise came into his face
+at mention of Mrs. Treadwell’s name, but even after Bucketts had ceased
+he sat for a few moments in silence.
+
+Then looking coolly, wearily around him, Jack rose, went to his
+wardrobe, took a letter from the pocket of his blouse, and returned to
+the fireplace.
+
+“Bucketts,” said he, “it is a fact that Mrs. Tanner did on one occasion
+cry in my arms at Phœnix. She probably would have done so the night
+Tanner marched if she had not fainted dead away, and it is also a fact
+that long after midnight I came from her house when those despatches
+arrived. In fact, had I not heard the noise outside I would have been
+there an hour longer. For myself, I absolutely refuse to make any
+explanation _now_, but for her sake that which may seem necessary shall
+be done. This letter will account for my presence at Tanner’s at the
+hour which has scandalized Camp Sandy, and, doctor, you can doubtless
+account for the other enumerated indiscretions. Now, Bucketts, I have a
+question to ask. Was it on this account that the colonel requested my
+resignation, as that—as Captain Canker stated this morning?”
+
+“So Canker says, and so it has been told all over the post. Turner and
+I went to the colonel two days ago, and he promised us that nothing
+farther should be said or done until you returned, and last evening he
+did tell me to see Canker and say to him that he desired him to say
+nothing to you now until Tanner’s return, as he would be here in two
+days. I did so, but Canker seems to have gone crazy this morning.”
+
+“Then it is doubtless true that Canker’s statement is correct as to the
+resignation,” said Jack, while his teeth set almost savagely. “That,
+at least, I never could have believed of Pelham; he should never have
+delegated that message to any one. Now, gentlemen,” he continued,
+“I have a great deal to think of this morning, and I will thank you
+both to come to me occasionally. You, doctor, will have to devote
+all possible time to Mrs. Tanner, I know, but let me hear how she is
+getting on. As for Captain Canker, it is not probable any message will
+come from him before evening if it should then, and by that time Ray
+will be here.”
+
+And now we have to turn from Truscott and his bitter reflections and
+look for Grace, who, of late, has appeared but seldom on the scene.
+
+At any other time so important an announcement as that of the
+engagement of the beauty and belle of the regiment, the daughter of
+its colonel, to one of its officers, and that one its wealthiest,
+would have created wide commotion; but just now everything was
+forgotten in the fate that had overtaken Tanner, shrouded the garrison
+in mourning, and involved his stricken widow and his most trusted
+friend in so strange, so uncanny a complication. The circumstances of
+Grace’s engagement have not been explained,—indeed, she never could
+satisfactorily explain them herself,—but to make a long and most
+unpleasant story short, her mother had speedily added the story of
+Truscott’s midnight appearance at Tanner’s to his other enormities,
+and this, coupled with what she had seen, so preyed upon the poor
+girl’s jealousy and wretchedness that, yielding to her mother’s
+representations of all Glenham’s excellences, the debt they owed him
+for Ralph’s sake, the deep wrong she was doing him in keeping him in
+suspense, “dangling at her apron-strings,” as madame expressed it,
+though knowing well that she, not Grace, was there at fault, Grace
+Pelham had at last surrendered. “I do _not_ love you,” she told him,
+frankly. “I respect and honor and like you, no doubt, but it is not
+what you deserve,” and he had rapturously declared that he could wait
+to win her love if she would but promise to let him try. And then mamma
+had clinched the nail by announcing the engagement, confidentially, to
+three or four ladies, and writing it confidentially to two or three
+more at department headquarters. And Grace, receiving congratulations
+she would eagerly have shunned, and devotions and raptures that she
+absolutely shrank from, was profoundly miserable.
+
+Coming suddenly into the Tanners’ parlor at tattoo the night of the
+news of his death, she stopped short on seeing Truscott, and then had
+turned and fled. Distrusting him as she had, yet unwilling to believe
+in his baseness, she now saw him fondling and soothing the child of the
+man he was accused of having bitterly wronged, and mingling his tears
+with those of the innocent little one because of that man’s death.
+No wonder hers had been an almost sleepless night, but early in the
+morning she was at her father’s bedside. He was still far from well,
+though the ailment seemed to be mental rather than bodily. Lady Pelham
+was sleeping the sleep of the just in her own room. She had been up
+very late the night before, making love to her prospective son-in-law,
+as Mrs. Wilkins put it. Grace had plead distress and illness and gone
+to her room.
+
+Soon after guard-mounting a letter was brought to the door. The servant
+handed it to Grace, and she, noting with faintly heightened color and
+trembling hand that it was addressed in Truscott’s writing to the
+colonel, took it up-stairs, and silently placed it before him on the
+coverlet.
+
+“Where are my glasses, dear?” he asked. But the glasses were not under
+his pillow nor on the bureau. “Read it to me, Grace.”
+
+For a moment she hung back, unwilling, then opened the note, and in a
+low, tremulous voice, read as follows:
+
+                           “CAMP SANDY, A. T., December 20, 187—.
+
+    “COLONEL R. R. PELHAM, Commanding —th Regiment of Cavalry U.S.A.
+
+  “_Colonel_,—I have the honor to tender my resignation of the
+   adjutancy of the regiment.
+
+      “Very respectfully,
+
+         “Your obedient servant,
+
+             “JOHN G. TRUSCOTT,
+
+                 “_1st Lieut. —th Cavalry_.”
+
+“He gives no reason?” asked the colonel, after a long and painful pause.
+
+“Nothing, father.”
+
+Then there was another pause.
+
+“Grace, I want to see Major Bucketts,” said he, at last.
+
+And presently Major Bucketts came, and, after ushering him in, she left
+the room.
+
+“Bucketts,” said the colonel, peevishly, “I thought I told you to tell
+Canker not to mention this matter to Mr. Truscott until—until Tanner
+got back.”
+
+“You did, sir.”
+
+“Didn’t you do it?”
+
+“Certainly, I did, sir. At stables yesterday.”
+
+“But here’s Truscott’s resignation, and, d—n it! I wanted the thing
+stopped until—well, for the present anyhow. Where is Captain Canker?
+Has he had anything to do with this, do you know?”
+
+“He is in his quarters, sir, and, to the best of my knowledge and
+belief, he had all to do with it.”
+
+“That’s horribly awkward,” said the colonel, sitting up in bed. “Has
+Truscott gone to meet the body?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“He hasn’t? Why, I supposed, of course, he would go.”
+
+“He wanted to go, sir, but Captain Canker refused permission.” And it
+was evident that the quartermaster was grimly enjoying the conversation.
+
+“Canker refused him! Why, what’s the man thinking of? Truscott _ought_
+to have gone. Where is he?”
+
+“In close arrest, sir, in his quarters.”
+
+“_What!_ What’s happened?” exclaimed Pelham, already half out of bed.
+
+“Captain Canker took it upon himself to use very dangerous language to
+Mr. Truscott at stables. I did not hear it, and prefer not to repeat
+what I was told, but there is no doubt of the fact that Truscott
+knocked him flat, and that Canker is spending the morning drawing up
+charges and specifications by the quire.”
+
+“Go and say to the captain that I resume command at once,” said the
+colonel, slipping out of bed with astonishing activity. “Then come to
+the office, both of you.”
+
+Doleful indeed was Captain Canker’s appearance when telling his tale
+to the colonel half an hour afterwards. His left eye was covered
+with a broad bandage, and his nose and cheek were discolored and
+contused. Trembling still with indignation and excitement was the
+captain, and, after listening patiently to his recital, which, of
+course, made no allusion to his insulting, overbearing manner, and
+somewhat inaccurately represented his language, and very inaccurately
+represented Truscott’s conduct, Pelham spoke very moderately and kindly.
+
+“It is, of course, a most flagrant breach of discipline, and Mr.
+Truscott must be held accountable. I shall confirm the arrest; and yet,
+Captain Canker, did you not receive a message from me directing you to
+postpone further action; not to say anything, in fact, until—well, for
+the present?”
+
+“I did, sir,” said Canker, coloring painfully; “but I was justly
+indignant at his ignoring my position as commanding officer, and
+Captain Tanner could never return to us now, and I was outraged, I
+suppose, at the idea of Mr. Truscott’s being allowed to appear as his
+friend. Well, there were a dozen reasons why I thought he ought to be
+informed at once that his crime was known.”
+
+Pelham winced at the word. Already he was beginning to believe an awful
+mistake had been made. He fidgeted uneasily in his chair.
+
+“But how came you to speak of his resignation? That wasn’t necessary
+that I can see.”
+
+And Canker had no satisfactory explanation to offer, and left the
+colonel’s office in a very unpleasant frame of mind. Then Pelham
+sent for Raymond, Carroll, and Glenham, and questioned them as
+eye-witnesses. Crane and Wilkins also were summoned, and despite
+every effort on their part to say as little as possible any way, the
+fact became pretty clearly established that Canker had behaved in an
+outrageously unbecoming if not insulting manner. And awfully ill at
+ease and unhappy the colonel found himself at the end of his two hours’
+confabulation with those gentlemen.
+
+Meantime, Bucketts sat fuming in the adjutant’s chair. In his pocket
+he had Tanner’s last letter to Truscott, one that would have forcibly
+shaken the colonel and his _confrères_, but Truscott had forbidden
+Bucketts and the doctor to make its contents known until after the
+colonel had acted upon his resignation.
+
+For a long time after the officers had gone, Colonel Pelham sat
+there at his desk in deep perplexity. All over the garrison people
+were talking of the exciting events of the day. Everybody knew that
+Truscott was in close arrest. Everybody had heard that Canker had
+virtually demanded the resignation of the adjutancy in the colonel’s
+name. Everybody heard in some mysterious way that the resignation had
+been tendered, and all were eagerly speculating on the upshot. This,
+too, when only a few miles away now the lifeless body of their gallant
+comrade was being borne back to the post, and, all unconscious of that
+or any other fact, poor little Mrs. Tanner lay in her darkened room
+more dead than alive.
+
+At last the colonel rose and came to Bucketts’ desk.
+
+“Have you had any conversation with Mr. Truscott about this a affair?”
+said he.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Bucketts, promptly.
+
+“Did he—does he explain this—I mean—his very suspicious relations
+with Mrs. Tanner?” asked Pelham. And very hesitatingly he asked, and
+painfully embarrassed he looked.
+
+Bucketts paused.
+
+“I do not know that I have any right to answer that question, colonel.
+In the absence of Turner and Ray, the doctor and myself seemed to be
+the only friends left to him. He feels most keenly the manner in which
+the matter was brought to his notice, and as no defence was necessary
+where the doctor or myself were concerned he made none.” And blushing
+very much but still looking steadfastly at his commander, Bucketts went
+on: He liked his colonel,—was greatly attached to him in fact,—but was
+stung to the quick by the deep trouble brought upon his friend by the
+weakness and mismanagement of that officer.
+
+“Do you mean to say that he has a satisfactory explanation?”
+
+“Most assuredly, colonel.”
+
+“Then why does he not come forward with it, or express a desire to do
+so? It is my right to know it.”
+
+“He certainly would have done so, sir, and you must pardon me if I
+seem wanting in respect, had you yourself sent for him and represented
+the allegations against him and given him an opportunity. Instead of
+that, at this most trying time, when he has just returned from very
+distinguished service, is wounded and sick, his best friend killed,
+he finds you holding aloof from him, and a man whom he—whom we all
+dislike,—whom you yourself never selected as an intimate before,—_now_
+chosen to represent you in a most delicate office, and you see how—how
+he did it.” And here Bucketts’ voice rose and trembled and grew husky.
+“Again, colonel, I beg your pardon if I speak too strongly, but—I feel
+very strongly.”
+
+Redder and redder Pelham had grown.
+
+“Do you mean that he will refuse to explain the matter now?” he asked.
+
+“For Mrs. Tanner’s sake he may explain,” answered Bucketts; “for his
+own I am not prepared to say.”
+
+“Well, send for him, anyhow. I want to see him at once,” said the
+colonel, with a nervous twitching about his face. It was plain that he
+was nettled, miserable, and dissatisfied with himself and everybody
+else.
+
+And so it happened that Jack Truscott, to his great surprise, as he sat
+talking with Raymond and Carroll, received a summons to come at once to
+the commanding officer’s presence. A dozen pairs of eyes watched him
+as he walked slowly down the line, for he was still far from well, and
+many were the speculations as to the meaning of this move.
+
+Presently, cap in hand, he appeared at the office-door and knocked.
+Pelham had watched him as he came, and with a shock of distress noted
+how very pale and haggard he looked; but as he entered and stood erect
+before his colonel, his head seem carried even higher, his bearing was
+calm as ever, but haughty. He said not a word.
+
+“Mr. Truscott,” said Pelham, “I have sent for you because it is most
+necessary that a very unpleasant matter should be cleared up at once.
+I am given to understand by your friends that you are perfectly able
+to explain away all suspicion that may have attached to your conduct
+of late, and, if so, and you are entirely innocent in the matter,
+your violence to Captain Canker this morning may in a measure be
+condoned,—and other—other disagreeable features be suppressed. Are you
+prepared to offer such explanation?”
+
+“No, sir.” And the answer was prompt, but so stern and low that Pelham
+fairly started.
+
+“Do you mean that you have no explanation?”
+
+“I mean that after the language of the officer selected as your
+spokesman this morning I will not condescend to defend myself, sir.
+The time for that has passed.”
+
+“Are you aware—do you realize that your refusal makes it my duty to
+proceed to take action in your case?” And the colonel’s voice trembled
+so that he could hardly speak, and he could not look at Truscott.
+
+“Perfectly, sir.”
+
+“Then that is all, Mr. Truscott,” said the colonel. And that night
+at retreat everybody knew that the adjutant was “broken,” and was
+wondering who would be the next victim.
+
+It was late in the evening when the detachment, now commanded by
+Lieutenant Ray, escorting Tanner’s honored remains, reached Sandy and
+scattered to quarters. Ray did not wait for any change of raiment.
+After having placed the body in charge of the doctors at the hospital,
+he went at once to Truscott’s quarters, and that evening Turner,
+Raymond, Ray, and Bucketts spent in earnest consultation with the
+ex-adjutant. Down at the store various congenial spirits were solemnly
+discussing the situation over their toddies.
+
+“What do you think will happen now?” asked Mr. Wilkins of the group
+gathered about the store.
+
+“Well, Ray has been with Truscott for the last hour,” said Mr. Hunter,
+“and I’ll bet that there will be a circus if he is called in.”
+
+“What do you want to bet Ray isn’t made adjutant?”
+
+“Anything you like, Wilkins, for the simple reason that madame wants
+that place for son-in-law Arty,” replied an irreverent youth, but it
+would be unkind to mention his name.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+On the following morning the preparations for Captain Tanner’s funeral
+were complete. There had been a decided halt for a few moments when it
+came to the selection of the pall-bearers, as they had to be chosen
+by Colonel Pelham, poor Mrs. Tanner being still too desperately ill
+to more than faintly realize where she was or to recognize those who
+stood at her bedside. The colonel’s heart was sore against Truscott,
+for, while he could not say that his manner had been in the least
+disrespectful on the previous afternoon, he could complain and did
+complain that there was a spice of insubordination in the subaltern’s
+total refusal to offer any explanation. He resented the fact that
+Truscott evidently resented his conduct. He was stung to think that
+Truscott had friends to whom he readily furnished the proofs of his
+innocence, yet forbade their using them “officially”; and although
+he felt and knew that had he himself asked Truscott for these proofs
+in the first place, they would have been promptly set before him,
+he refused to see that, in having made Captain Canker his minister
+plenipotentiary for the time being, he had given Truscott good cause
+for his action in declining to defend himself at the eleventh hour.
+The more he heard of Canker’s language and manner in the now famous
+interview the less he liked it, the more he realized that he had made
+an awful blunder in intrusting such a matter to him, and the more
+peevish and irritable the poor old gentleman grew. Just at retreat
+the evening of his brief conversation with Truscott, Dr. Clayton, the
+post-surgeon, had met him and announced the arrival of the physician
+from Fort Whipple, and that the latter said it was more than probable
+that the general and some of his staff would come down to be present
+at Tanner’s funeral. Telegrams very congratulatory in their tone had
+been flying over the wires from Prescott ever since Truscott’s return
+with the news of the first fight. Then there came frequent inquiries
+by wire after Truscott’s health; then a deeply sympathetic message
+announcing the receipt of the tidings of Tanner’s death; then inquiries
+after Mrs. Tanner, and then they stopped coming to him entirely,
+though the doctor received frequent despatches. This added to Colonel
+Pelham’s fretfulness. It was mere accident and no slight whatever was
+intended, but he believed that in some way news of the Truscott-Canker
+affray had reached headquarters and that his conduct as post-commander
+was disapproved,—or something,—and, being a loyal adherent of the
+commanding general and a faithful friend, it worried him inexpressibly.
+
+The telegraph operator denied having sent any despatch relating to
+the affair, but it had been suspected on more than one occasion that
+Corcoran had sent “confidential” messages on his own account to the
+operator there, and this was so spicy a piece of news that it was more
+than believed that he had communicated the whole story, with probable
+theories and comments of his own. Certain it is that before sunset that
+day a rumor was in circulation at Fort Whipple that Captain Canker had
+received a terrific thrashing at the hands of the adjutant, that a duel
+was imminent, and then that Truscott was in arrest and to be tried by
+court-martial.
+
+“Has Dr. Harper seen Mrs. Tanner yet?” asked Pelham, anxiously.
+
+“Not yet, sir. We are going in together as soon as he has changed his
+dress; he is at my quarters now,—at least he will be in a minute;” and
+the doctor looked uneasily up the row, and that led Pelham also to
+look the same way. And as they did so, Dr. Harper came forth from the
+adjutant’s, the ex-adjutant’s quarters by this time, and the colonel
+reddened as he saw it. Everybody whom he most liked and respected was
+evidently in sympathy with Truscott. No one went to inquire after
+Canker and his black eye, yet here, the moment the post-surgeon from
+Fort Whipple arrived, he must needs run in to see Truscott before going
+anywhere else. Pelham fairly winced.
+
+“Look here, doctor,” he said, impatiently. “You know—I suppose
+everybody knows by this time—how your patient has been compromised
+by Mr. Truscott’s conduct, and I suppose you know that he positively
+declined to offer any explanation when I called upon him for it.”
+
+“I do, sir,” said the doctor, gravely.
+
+“Well, I’m told that he _has_ explained matters to one or two officers,
+yourself included, though he refused to explain to me, who had the
+best right to know. Also I’m told that you are convinced of his entire
+innocence.”
+
+“I never doubted it, sir, much less hers.”
+
+“Then, doctor, I think it your business to give me your reasons. If
+I’ve done him—or—or anybody else injustice, I want to know it; but I’m
+confounded if I can see how he can explain what—what has been seen by
+everybody,” said poor Pelham, irritably.
+
+Dr. Clayton merely bowed.
+
+“You will not give your reasons?”
+
+“Not now, sir,” and the doctor was scrupulously respectful in tone and
+manner.
+
+The colonel turned short on his heel and entered the house. Glenham
+was seated with Grace in the parlor, and Grace, looking far from
+well, glanced up eagerly and wistfully in her father’s face. He went
+up-stairs without a word.
+
+Late that evening a despatch arrived saying that the general with
+Colonel Wickham and Mr. Bright of his staff were on their way to
+Sandy, and would arrive by noon on the following day. In the morning,
+therefore, he had to select the pall-bearers, and before breakfast Lady
+Pelham began her questioning. She had heard with eager satisfaction
+the announcement of Truscott’s relief from duty as adjutant of
+the regiment; she had already paved the way, she thought, for the
+appointment of a successor suitable to herself, and yet, so long as
+Truscott remained at the post she could not rest content: he was
+dangerous, she argued, and must be gotten rid of. An order assigning
+him to duty with one of the troops serving in the southern part of the
+Territory was what she wanted, if indeed he did not have to quit the
+service entirely; but the death of Captain Tanner had put as unexpected
+bar on that plan, as his troop was now left without an officer “present
+for duty,” the senior lieutenant of the regiment who would succeed
+to the captaincy being, as is not unusual in such cases, on detached
+duty in an Eastern city, with no intention whatsoever of throwing up
+his detail as an aide-de-camp so long as his regiment was roughing it
+in Arizona. This she saw would be likely to result in Truscott’s being
+ordered to assume command of Tanner’s troop. Then came his affray
+with Canker, his arrest and prospective court-martial, and now, to
+her dismay, she realized that not only was that going to detain him
+at the post, but that already everybody was beginning to veer around,
+and public sympathy was largely excited in favor of the very people
+whom she had been instrumental in bringing into trouble. Madame felt
+the ground giving way beneath her feet. Already she had learned that,
+while Truscott had indignantly refused to utter a word in his defence,
+his utter innocence of wrong in thought or deed had been so clearly
+established that his friends were triumphant, his enemies disconcerted,
+and the ladies who but two days before were whispering all manner
+of scandal at the expense of poor little Mrs. Tanner, now found it
+expedient to hold their tongues and wait. It was getting unpopular to
+say anything that might be construed as an insinuation against her, and
+at all hours of the day the gentle and forgiving creatures had been
+swarming to her quarters to see if there really wasn’t something they
+could do. And that evening as a party of them stood talking in low
+tones upon the Turners’ gallery, Mrs. Raymond found opportunity to say,—
+
+“Well, I’m thankful _I_ never said a word against her.”
+
+“And so am I,—devoutly,” echoed Mrs. Turner.
+
+Of course Lady Pelham could see no possible way of escape for Truscott.
+His conduct and Mrs. Tanner’s indiscretion were past all explanation
+in her severely virtuous mind, but it was disconcerting to observe
+that “the best people in the garrison” were exhibiting decided change
+of heart and correspondingly avoiding her, “As if _I_ were the one to
+blame,” said her ladyship.
+
+In selecting the pall-bearers Colonel Pelham asked nobody’s advice.
+Madame had attempted some questioning, but was warned by the knitting
+of his brow and an impatient gesture that he desired none of her
+interference. Handing the list to Major Bucketts, the colonel
+briefly told him to notify the gentlemen there named and to detail
+Captain Canker and his troop for the escort. There was fitness in
+that selection, as Mr. Ray observed, for the captain was already in
+half-mourning, but Truscott’s name was not on the list of pall-bearers,
+and thereat Mr. Ray saw fit to wax indignant. He had no idea of policy,
+and, finding that he had been named as one of them, proceeded straight
+to the colonel’s office, and for the first time since his return from
+scout exhibited himself to his commander.
+
+“Colonel, I was the last officer of the regiment to see Captain Tanner
+alive, and during this late scout I had more than one confidential talk
+with him. Will you permit me to say that the omission of Mr. Truscott’s
+name from the list of pall-bearers would be the last thing Captain
+Tanner would wish could he express a wish?”
+
+The colonel liked Ray,—liked him better than ever since his adventure
+with Grace, and, as some of the captains growlingly remarked, “‘Old
+Catnip’ would put up with anything in Ray’s troop and wouldn’t stand a
+rusty buckle in anybody else’s.” It was not strictly accurate, but as
+an expression of the prevailing opinion was not greatly overdrawn. Very
+probably he would have severely snubbed any other officer, and even to
+Ray he spoke sternly.
+
+“Mr. Truscott is in arrest, sir.”
+
+“I know it, colonel; but you surely do not mean to prohibit his
+attending the funeral of his old captain and oldest friend.”
+
+It was just what Pelham had intended doing. That is to say, he meant to
+grant no extension of limits or suspension from arrest unless Truscott
+asked it; but the hour was drawing nigh, Truscott had not asked, and
+the old gentleman was getting vastly afraid that he would not.
+
+“Mr. Truscott has refused to vindicate his reputation, sir, and I do
+not think that in this matter he can expect much consideration,” said
+the colonel, trying to feel that what he said was just.
+
+“It is more for the consideration due to Captain Tanner and to the
+regiment, colonel, that I am appealing,” said Ray, boldly. “Mr.
+Truscott would prohibit my appealing for him.”
+
+“The regiment, sir, is inclined to the belief that if Mr. Truscott had
+been as careful of the honor of Captain Tanner during his life as he
+desires to be of the honors due him after death, he would stand higher
+than he does this day.”
+
+Instantly he realized that he had said too much, and would have been
+glad to recall it. Ray flushed crimson with indignation.
+
+“I beg your pardon, Colonel Pelham. You will find that the _men_ of the
+regiment do not agree with you,” he said, hotly.
+
+“You are forgetting yourself, Mr. Ray,” said the colonel. “Leave the
+office, sir!” And, gritting his teeth and looking very red in the face,
+Mr. Ray did as he was bid.
+
+Nevertheless, in half an hour the colonel sent Major Bucketts to say to
+Mr. Truscott that his arrest would be suspended until retreat, in order
+that he might have an opportunity of attending the obsequies of his
+late captain.
+
+And so it happened later that bright wintry day that the guards at the
+large empty ward of the post-hospital respectfully stood aside and
+opened the door to the tall young officer who silently entered. The two
+hospital attendants sitting near a low table in the middle of the room
+rose and drew back, one of them reverently raising the fold of the flag
+draped over the head of the cloth-covered coffin, and Jack Truscott
+stood gazing down into the calm, pallid features of his friend.
+
+Oh, what memories came surging up before him as he hung over the
+casket! More than eight years before, when fresh from West Point,
+he had reported for duty with Tanner’s company, and, joining him in
+Kansas, had served with him through more than one eventful campaign
+against the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes; had found his captain
+always thoughtful, courteous, and considerate; had learned to trust him
+implicitly, and little by little to look up to and love him. Together
+they had “roughed it” over the prairies and “messed” in garrison;
+together they had gone East the second year of Jack’s service with the
+company, and he had appeared as best man at the quiet little ceremony
+which made his captain the happiest fellow on earth. And there he had
+met in the person of his bridesmaid the sister of the sweet woman of
+whom Tanner had so often talked to him on their long rides, and, in a
+beauty more radiant, a wit more sparkling, a vivacity more attractive,
+Jack Truscott had been able to believe he saw all the nobler attributes
+which existed in the gentle bride his comrade had won. In another
+year a courtship, conducted mainly by correspondence, had resulted in
+his engagement to be married to the younger sister of his captain’s
+wife, and yet he marvelled that she should desire that it be not yet
+announced, and had marvelled more that as day after day his relations
+with Tanner and his wife grew more cordial and intimate, Mrs. Tanner
+could never seem perfectly unembarrassed or confidently happy about
+that engagement.
+
+Then her baby had been born, and he had been devoted to little Bertie.
+Could he ever forget Tanner’s choking voice and tear-dimmed eyes when
+he got back and tried to thank him for nursing the little one through
+that terrible illness? And then when, after all, they lost the child,
+how well he recalled her agony and his deep, manfully-subdued grief!
+How he recalled the long winter evenings in that bleak frontier fort
+when she with her sewing, he and Tanner with their books or papers,
+sat by the hour together, sometimes hardly speaking at all! And how
+they had gone, Mrs. Tanner and he, to plant the flowers around the
+little grave down by the stream; and then how, despite her grief, she
+seemed to watch him all that winter and the spring that followed, until
+he went away to assume the duties of the adjutancy. And how oddly,
+unusually earnest and affectionate and solicitous Tanner’s behavior
+to him had become, and his letters after he went away. He used to
+wonder at it then; but his letters from the East, from his _fiancée_,
+had been growing less frequent, more hurried, more unsatisfactory for
+a year, and when he took his leave of absence and went on to satisfy
+himself as to whether all was really as it should be, the truth came
+out. The wealth and position of a prominent merchant, a widower with
+three or four children, had been too much for her brief infatuation
+for a distant subaltern in the cavalry, and, like a sensible girl, she
+embraced her opportunity—and the widower; and Jack came back to the
+—th by no means the heartbroken man he ought to have been. It was Mrs.
+Tanner who felt it most. She never forgave her sister, and, in her
+gentle, womanly way, she redoubled her thoughtfulness for Jack, and
+more than ever had they welcomed him to their cosy quarters. But then
+came the move to Arizona,—a temporary separation. And when he again met
+his old comrades, he marked with dismay her pallid cheek, and learned
+in a few broken words from Tanner that what they feared in Kansas was
+now an undisputed fact. Heart disease in a dangerous form fastened
+upon her, and great care, said the physicians who were consulted, had
+to be exercised. She knew it all as well as they, but was ever bright,
+brave, and cheery, and no one but Tanner, Truscott, and the doctors
+ever suspected or at least knew the truth. Stronger and firmer had
+grown the ties which bound Tanner and himself together, but neither was
+demonstrative. No one but Mrs. Tanner ever dreamed how much they were
+to each other.
+
+And now—and now the loving, devoted husband, the indulgent father,
+the dutiful soldier, the faithful friend lay here cold,—dead to his
+grief and desolation; and she, the sweet, pure, gentle wife, mother,
+and friend, lay at death’s door, robbed of her husband who was all
+in all to her; robbed of her friend who would have given his right
+hand to aid her; robbed of her good name by the infamous twaddle of
+garrison gossips; and he—he who had so reverenced and honored and loved
+them both, stood accused, even by the commander whom he had served
+so faithfully and well, of having dishonored the holiest friendship
+he had ever known. More than that. His colonel’s daughter, to whom
+he had given the strength and fervor of a man’s deep love, was cited
+as a witness against him. Oh, bitter, bitter were his thoughts, but
+presently he had to thrust them away. It was almost time for the
+formation of the escort, and he must take leave of the first and
+firmest friend he had found in all his army life. Jack bent and
+tenderly brushed aside the dark hair from the cold white forehead, and
+then kneeling, pressed his lips upon the placid face, and hot tears
+rolled down his cheeks. Even as he knelt there, with one arm thrown
+over the coffin, alone in his bereavement, the door again softly opened
+and two persons entered. He heard them not, and never moved. But they
+saw him, and stopped: a fragile, graceful girl clinging to the arm of
+a stout, rugged old soldier. She bore in her hand a little wreath of
+wild-flowers, simple and homely enough, but the best that hours of
+search could discover in that remote region. She had come to place them
+upon the bier of the gallant troop-commander her father so honored;
+but at sight of Truscott she held back, and father and daughter stood
+motionless an instant regarding him. The attendant stepped forward to
+offer a chair, and at the sound of his footfall Truscott raised his
+head and saw them. One second of indecision followed. Then, with one
+lingering look in the face of the dead, without another glance at Grace
+or the colonel, he slowly walked away.
+
+An hour after, to the wailing notes of the band, the solemn _cortege_
+formed around the new-made grave among the foot-hills west of the post.
+There stood Canker’s company, dismounted, and in full-dress uniform,
+the escort of the soldier-dead; there stood the gray-haired chaplain,
+whose tremulous voice rose and fell in mournful cadence on the still
+evening air; there, leaning on their sabres, were grouped the officers
+of the garrison, the general commanding and his aides, all with
+reverently uncovered head, many with tear-dimmed eyes; there stood a
+mourning, weeping group of ladies, the wives of brother officers, and
+among them many a heart faltered in the dread that any day it might be
+their lot to stand there and see that same flag lifted from the form
+of him who was all in all, as this had been all in all to her who lay
+sore-stricken in the desolation of her home. All around were grouped
+the soldiers of the post, for loved and honored he had been among
+them. And there, near the foot of the grave, stood Truscott, holding
+weeping little Rosalie in his arms. She would go to no one, walk with
+no one but Uncle Jack, and until he came and took her to his strong,
+heaving breast and buried her bright curls on his broad shoulder, the
+lonely little girl had cried piteously for him. And now they stood
+there clasped in each other’s embrace, while all that was mortal of
+the gallant officer and gentleman was lowered to the grave, and the
+solemn tones of the old chaplain gave thanks “for the good example of
+all those Thy servants who, having finished their course in faith,
+do now rest from their labors.” The heavy clods had fallen, the last
+prayer and blessing had been spoken, the grace of Him who suffered and
+died once more invoked, and then the sombre throng fell back from the
+grave, the bright-plumed helmets of the escort ranged up in line, the
+muffled word of command was given, the carbines flashed their parting
+volleys over the clay their ringing clamor could no longer thrill, the
+notes of the trumpets floated away with the smoke of the discharge,
+“Taps,” the soldiers’ signal for “extinguish lights” the world over,
+died away in distant echoes across the valley, and all was over. Ay,
+put out your light, old fellow, gallant comrade, trusted friend. Rest
+in peace, and may God grant you a joyous waking at the great reveille!
+But now, _allons_! _Le roi est mort, vive_ the next man! Lieutenant
+Stafford becomes captain _vice_ the deceased. It’s an ill wind that
+blows nobody good. Our turn may come next. Who knows? It’s all in the
+business. Soldiers cannot stop to mourn. Life is too short, anyway. So
+strike up your liveliest music, trumpeters. “Fours right,” gentlemen
+of the escort. “Left front into line, double-time,” go the platoons as
+they clear the enclosure, and the band bursts into the ringing, lively,
+rollicking quickstep from _La Fille de Madame Angot_, and with elastic
+steps we march away from the grave where our hero lies buried.
+
+And now, gentlemen, to business! First and foremost this matter of
+Truscott’s has to be settled. The general has heard all about it, of
+course, and has not a word to say. It is a regimental matter entirely,
+and if the colonel should consider it necessary to forward charges
+against Mr. Truscott for his assault on the _pro tempore_ commanding
+officer, why, Mr. Truscott must be tried by court-martial. All the
+same, the chief has received Tanner’s last official report, in which
+the conduct of Truscott and Ray has been highly praised, and he sends
+for both those gentlemen and shakes them warmly by the hand and
+congratulates them heartily. He says very little, talking is not his
+forte, but white and Indian well know that what he says he means, and
+the wariest redskin will take his faintest promise in preference to any
+agreement stamped with the great seal of the Indian bureau. To Truscott
+and Ray he says not a word concerning the former’s arrest; he is
+totally oblivious to Canker’s black eye, and is scrupulously courteous
+to that officer when he meets him; he listens patiently to Colonel
+Pelham’s recital of the affair, because Pelham thinks he must allude
+to it, but he expresses no opinion whatever and has no suggestions to
+make. He calls laboriously on every lady in the garrison accompanied
+by Mr. Bright, and condoles with each in appropriate terms upon the
+great loss the regiment has sustained, but he generally manages to let
+them do all the talking, a matter that requires but little ingenuity
+to be sure, and to limit his call to four or five minutes; but at
+Mrs. Tanner’s he leaves his card and many a warm inquiry, and directs
+Dr. Harper to remain there “until he has pulled her through,” and he
+holds little Rosalie in his arms and presses his bearded, kindly face
+against hers, and something suspiciously like moisture stands thick in
+his eyes as he comes away. Then, refusing all escort, he starts back
+for Prescott; but meantime Colonel Wickham has had a plain talk with
+Pelham, likewise with Canker, and the latter, who has used up some
+quires of legal cap in his concoction of charges against Truscott,
+thinks it advisable at least to revise and condense; and immediately
+after dinner that evening Mr. Ray accompanies Truscott and Bucketts to
+the ex-adjutant’s quarters.
+
+The mess has not been a particularly convivial place of late, and since
+Mr. Ray’s return the conversation has been more highly spiced with
+pepper than the viands. Truscott, the two doctors, and Bucketts have
+been very grave and silent, but Ray has kept the ball of conversation
+rolling in a way that at another time would have afforded immense
+entertainment to the elders. It is observed that unless spoken to by
+them he never addresses or notices Hunter or Glenham. Crane he cut long
+ago, and his demeanor to every officer whom he fancies in the most
+remote manner to have had anything to do with the stories at Truscott’s
+expense is in the last degree suggestive of “Won’t you have the
+goodness to knock this chip off my shoulder, or even ever so lightly
+tread on the tail of my coat?” Captain Canker he encountered in front
+of his quarters the very evening of his return, and something in his
+expression caused the captain to reflect and to restrain his impulse
+to hold forth his hand. It was a fortunate inspiration, for, looking
+him straight in the face, Mr. Ray passed him by without any recognition
+whatever, and Canker, who really liked the young fellow greatly, was
+stung to the quick.
+
+And now the day before Christmas had come, and after the routine
+business of the office had been transacted, Major Bucketts, who still
+occupied the adjutant’s chair, inquired of the colonel at what time it
+would be convenient to him to see the doctor and himself on matters
+connected with the allegations against Mr. Truscott, and the colonel
+eagerly answered the sooner the better. In a short time, therefore, Dr.
+Clayton arrived, accompanied by Captain Turner, who had a small packet
+of papers in his hand. All being seated and the doors closed, the
+colonel inquired,—
+
+“Well, gentlemen, what have you to say?” And the doctor became the
+spokesman.
+
+“Colonel Pelham, as Mrs. Tanner is recovering and will soon be in
+a condition to enable her to attend to her husband’s affairs, it
+becomes necessary that Mr. Truscott should be able to assist her.
+Captain Turner has here written directions of Captain Tanner’s that,
+in the event of his sudden death, Mr. Truscott should take charge of
+his papers, etc., as he was acquainted with all the details of his
+business affairs. His will is very brief, he indicates, and leaves
+everything unreservedly to his widow and children, but there is much
+business to be attended to that both he and she have been in the habit
+of intrusting to Mr. Truscott when the captain had to be absent. Were
+Mr. Truscott not able to attend to these matters for her she would
+certainly expect to know why, and on her account at least, and to put
+an end to a scandalous story, we are here to-day.
+
+“You and Captain Canker saw Mr. Truscott issuing from Mrs. Tanner’s
+house towards one o’clock in the morning the night of the 14th–15th,
+and believed it to have been—or rather attached an improper motive to
+his being there. Whether you are aware of the fact or not, Mr. Truscott
+has for eight years past been the most trusted and intimate friend the
+Tanners had, and these relations existed long before you joined the
+regiment as its colonel. Captain Tanner was ordered off on this last
+scout at a most inopportune time. He left the post just at the day and
+hour when five years before he had lost his first-born child in Kansas.
+It was very hard for him, it was desperately hard for her, and in the
+thought of her suffering it seems he forgot some important items of
+business. Two days out he wrote an urgent message to Truscott to have
+copies made of certain papers and get them off to his attorney’s in
+San Francisco as quick as possible. The letter reached Truscott after
+taps on the night of the 14th, the mail was to leave for Prescott the
+morning of the 15th. No time was to be lost. He went right to Tanner’s
+quarters, as he had done dozens of times before, got the papers, and by
+dint of two hours’ hard work had more than half finished the copies
+when your voice and Canker’s and the mention of his name attracted him.
+He went out at once, was sent on this message after the command, and
+Mrs. Tanner finished the copying and got the papers off. If Truscott
+was guilty for being there at one o’clock, I’m guiltier, for I was
+there at two. I saw her light in there as I was coming back from the
+hospital, where I had been called to see a sick man, and, fearing
+she was ill again, I went in at once, and she was just putting into
+envelopes the result of her work and his. There are the receipts for
+the registered package in which they went. Here is Captain Tanner’s
+letter requesting Truscott to attend to this work for him,” and he held
+forth the sheet.
+
+Pelham took it. Drops of sweat were standing on his brow. He drew his
+hand across his eyes, but the hand that held the paper trembled so
+that he could not read. He flattened the paper out upon his desk and
+tried again, and the words danced before his eyes. Yet he saw enough to
+convince—he had heard more than enough to convince him, and the lump
+that rose in his throat wellnigh choked him.
+
+“Should you need further proof I will send for Mr. Ray, for Tanner
+told him infinitely more than I have told you, sir. If not, we will go
+to the next point, of the actual allegations against Mr. Truscott. An
+officer reports having seen him take Mrs. Tanner in his arms out on
+the bluff just at first call for tattoo the night the command marched
+away. The officer says he only had a hasty glance, as his companion at
+once led him away. The story is true. Mr. Truscott did take her in his
+arms. If he hadn’t, she’d have fallen down the hill-side. He carried
+her home in his arms, and but for him she wouldn’t have got there. She
+was in a dead faint when I reached her just as tattoo was sounding. She
+had begged him to come for her and take her out there to see the last
+of them as they forded the stream below the post, and just as they were
+heard entering the ford the first call for tattoo sounded, and just
+five years before at the same call her baby had been taken from her as
+now her husband is taken and——”
+
+“Doctor, if you knew all this before, why, in God’s name, did you let
+me wrong this little woman by implication even? You could have stopped
+it all. _Half_ what you have told me here would have held my hand.” And
+poor Pelham had sprung to his feet, and absolutely wringing his hands,
+was tramping up and down the floor.
+
+“I did not even know that any one entertained such unjust suspicions
+until you had placed the matter in Captain Canker’s hands; but there is
+another matter,—Mrs. Treadwell’s letter.”
+
+“Not a word more. I want no explanation. I want nothing further. Why
+has Truscott suppressed this? Why has he allowed me to suspect her, if
+he cared nothing for himself? Turner, _you_ know Truscott, how do you
+account for it?” And absolute misery was stamped on the flushed and
+honest face of the old soldier as he asked.
+
+“Colonel, I hate to answer that, but you ask me and shall have an
+answer. Truscott had every right to expect you to use no middle-man in
+such a matter, but to bring the whole thing yourself to his notice. In
+refusing to say a word after you had permitted Canker to demand his
+resignation, he did just what I would have done, or any man of spirit.
+Indeed, it is only on her account that he permits the explanation to be
+made now.”
+
+Then followed a long and earnest consultation, and at lunch-time, the
+officers gathering in the mess-room looked significantly at one another
+as Turner, Bucketts, and the doctor walked away, and Captain Canker was
+seen approaching the colonel’s office. That evening before retreat it
+had leaked out among the ladies, and was told around the garrison, that
+Mr. Truscott had been informed that if he would apologize to Captain
+Canker in the presence of his commanding officer and certain others
+the charges now pending against him would be withdrawn, and that Mr.
+Truscott had flatly refused to do anything of the kind.
+
+Certain it is that there was some unexplained cheering and commotion
+among the men as they broke ranks after stables, and that the men
+in Mr. Ray’s troop were seen vehemently shaking hands with those in
+Tanner’s old command.
+
+Truscott did not come to dinner, and in his absence there was no
+restraint on the tongues. Mr. Ray had the floor, and Mr. Ray had
+evidently been drinking more than was prudent, but he was lively as a
+cricket and all ablaze with enthusiasm.
+
+“Apology be d—d! Of course he wouldn’t apologize. What’s Jack got to
+apologize for, I’d like to know? Because he put a head on a sneaking
+cur who insulted him outrageously and the sweetest woman in the
+regiment at the same time, God bless her! as He hasn’t particularly,
+but ought to all the same. Of course he wouldn’t apologize, and that
+man Canker’s a bigger ignoramus than I supposed to expect such a thing.
+Why, d—n it, there’s no such thing as an apology for a blow. Any babe
+in arms knows that in Kentucky, or any place where people live like
+Christians. You can’t apologize unless you _retract_. You can retract
+an affront, you can take back abuse, you can swallow your own words,
+if you’re in the wrong, but all the saints in heaven can’t take back
+a blow. There’s nothing for that but fight, if the other man has any
+fight left in him, and may the Lord forgive me if I ever thought to
+hear any other doctrine preached in a cavalry regiment!”
+
+And thus expounded this verbose and excitable young disciple of the
+code to his hearers, and carried conviction with him.
+
+“No, gentlemen,” he continued, “if Captain Canker wants satisfaction
+he can get it, and lots of it, and it’s his business or his friends
+to attend to that speedily if they propose attending to it at all;
+but if they don’t want any more fight, if they’re perfectly satisfied
+with getting squarely knocked out of time, why, we are: but don’t talk
+apology to Truscott unless somebody else wants to get floored. Mark my
+words, if Captain Canker has any decency left in him he’ll apologize
+on his own account, and I know two or three other gentlemen that would
+vastly improve their own status by apologizing themselves.”
+
+Whereat Messrs. Hunter and Glenham looked very red and uneasy, but
+spoke not.
+
+A wretched Christmas it was to everybody when it came around, bright,
+clear, and sparkling. The men had their elaborate dinner, except in
+Tanner’s troop, where, by vote of their own, the soldiers decided to
+have no festivity whatever, but they went in a body to the grave and
+decorated it with fresh pine-boughs and such rude ornaments as they
+could prepare. Colonel and Mrs. Pelham had intended giving a dinner to
+the bachelor officers of the garrison, some of them at least, but her
+ladyship gave out some days beforehand, and, if she had not, the battle
+royal which took place ’twixt her and her liege lord Christmas-eve
+would have incapacitated one or both for any enjoyment of the festival.
+There is no use in picturing that affair. It occurred after his
+interview with his officers and the complete establishment in his mind
+of Truscott’s innocence, and, of course, of Mrs. Tanner’s. Grace,
+fortunately, heard nothing of it. She had gone in to inquire after
+Mrs. Tanner, whom she found was sleeping quite naturally, and Mrs.
+Wilkins stole down-stairs and begged her to stay a while. And they, a
+strangely-assorted pair, had a long talk which was the stepping-stone
+to a better understanding between them, for Mrs. Wilkins was “coming
+out” in a light totally unexpected. But when Grace returned home she
+found that her mother had retired to her own room and was suffering
+from one of her wretched headaches, and during the entire day which
+followed madame saw fit not to emerge.
+
+Glenham of course came in to spend Christmas-eve, and was manifestly
+ill at ease. So also came one or two of the younger ladies, and as a
+consequence it was not very long before the subject of Mr. Truscott’s
+arrest was alluded to. The colonel had shut himself up in his den,
+and the coast was clear, thought these searchers after information. It
+was the current belief that Grace was so completely in her father’s
+confidence that he had no hesitation in telling her all about the
+affairs of the garrison. “It must be delicious,” said Miss Blanche,
+“to know just exactly all about these fellows.” And finding in the
+few conversations she had enjoyed with Grace that that young lady was
+by no means confidential, she hit on the bold stroke of broaching the
+subject publicly, for Miss Pelham would hardly “snub” her under such
+circumstances.
+
+“Isn’t it dreadful to think of Mr. Truscott’s being arrested just at
+this time?” she said, looking pointedly at Grace, yet addressing the
+remark to nobody in particular.
+
+Finding that she was expected to reply, Miss Pelham calmly answered
+that it certainly was, and instantly changed the subject; but the other
+damsel was not to be rebuffed: she returned to the charge.
+
+“Do you know, I think it’s just splendid in him not to apologize. Of
+course I don’t know what Captain Canker _could_ have said to make him
+so angry.” (Which was remarkable, considering the amount of information
+imparted in her letter to her friend at Prescott.) “Now they’ll _have_
+to court-martial him, won’t they? You know (appealingly) I haven’t the
+faintest idea how such things are governed in the army.”
+
+Grace colored vividly.
+
+“It is a matter that I really know nothing about,” she replied, with
+grave courtesy. And Glenham, who had been nervously tossing over some
+music on the piano, came forward and begged her to sing. Whereat
+everybody else said, “Oh, _do_!” And as a means of putting an end
+to all such questioning she acceded, singing soft, low, sad music,
+and pleading inability to attempt the livelier and more difficult
+selections they would have been glad to extort from her. But when all
+were gone, she stole to her father’s lonely den, finding him drearily
+pretending to read. Worn and harassed he certainly looked; and she
+twined her arm around his neck and kissed him tenderly.
+
+“What is it, papa?” she asked, relapsing into the pet name of her
+girlhood. “You look so worried. Is it anything you can tell me?”
+
+He looked lovingly into her sweet, serious face. Then bowed his head.
+
+“My darling, I fear that I have made a fearful mistake, and I know that
+I’ve done a grave injustice to one of my best officers.”
+
+She knew well who was meant, but—wanted to be told.
+
+“Who, father?”
+
+“Mr. Truscott.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence, and her heart was beating wildly.
+
+“This affair with—with Captain Canker, do you mean?” she asked.
+
+“Something far more serious. I cannot tell you, dear. But he is utterly
+and entirely innocent; more than that, he is even a truer and nobler
+friend and gentleman than even I supposed, and I had been led to deeply
+wrong him.”
+
+Poor Grace! In bitter distress she crept to her room that night.
+Only on two occasions had she seen Truscott since his return from the
+scout. Once mingling his tears with little Rosalie, once kneeling by
+the lifeless form of his old friend and comrade. On the first occasion
+he did not see, on the second he would not see her. And she, despite
+the jealous doubts that had possessed her, despite her now detested
+engagement to Arthur Glenham, would have given worlds to recall her
+action and implore his forgiveness. But what could she do?
+
+And now her father had virtually told her that all the accusations
+brought by Mrs. Pelham against Truscott were utterly unfounded. Even
+what she saw must have had some explanation, and she had not a friend
+to whom she could turn and seek the truth. She knew only too well now
+that it was useless to look to her mother for that. There was no merry
+Christmas this year for poor Grace. It is not worth while to picture
+her perplexity and distress, but that night she looked with far from
+friendly eyes at the class-ring Mr. Glenham had begged her to wear in
+acknowledgment of their engagement until the beautiful pledge he had
+ordered from San Francisco should arrive. Glenham was inordinately
+proud of that ring. With all its martial devices and heavy setting, he
+had selected an unusually beautiful and expensive stone on which to
+have engraved the motto of his class, and West Point had seen nothing
+handsomer in that line for years, and young women who were fond of
+appearing in public with the class-rings of their graduating admirers
+disported upon their fingers had made no little effort towards inducing
+Mr. Glenham to proffer his, but all to no purpose. Feminine fingers
+had never been encircled by it one instant until he proudly, humbly,
+joyously placed it upon hers, where it needed a guard-ring to keep it
+from slipping off; and this night she gazed upon its splendor with
+absolute aversion, then tore it from her finger and hid it from her
+sight.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Three days more, and an odd change had come over the spirit of Camp
+Sandy’s dreams. In the first place, all the ladies in the garrison had
+been to call at Mrs. Tanner’s, if only to leave their cards with “kind
+inquiries.” Even Mrs. Pelham had to go: the colonel made her. In the
+second place, despite the fact that “he would _not_ apologize,” Mr.
+Truscott was released from arrest, for Captain Canker had preferred
+no charges. One after another the officers whom he consulted told
+him that he really deserved to be knocked down for his language and
+manner to Truscott, and as he realized what a passion he had been in,
+and began to realize what he had said, and found out that after all
+he had been hideously unjust in his suspicions, and that he had lost
+the friendship of every man in the regiment whose friendship was worth
+having (even the colonel having intimated that no one but he could
+have been so preternaturally awkward and outrageous in his language),
+poor Canker found himself deserted and forlorn. At first he raged at
+his colonel. It was all Pelham’s fault, he said. Pelham had made him
+pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and now his hands were not only
+scarred for life, but the colonel had “gone back on him.” Unfortunately
+for Canker’s peace of mind, nobody would agree with him. Everybody
+knew that he had been directed through the acting adjutant to say
+not a word further to Truscott “until Tanner’s return,” and everybody
+knew that it did not mean “dead or alive” in Tanner’s case. A great
+revulsion of feeling had set in as the news of the doctor’s revelation
+to the colonel, which was not so much of a revelation anyhow, was
+circulated. Even the men who would have, possibly _had_, urged Canker
+to his most unfortunate step, now found it expedient to forget that
+they ever thought Truscott anything but the most perfect gentleman in
+the regiment, and Canker, being left without friends, true to human
+nature they who had started him down-hill lent occasional kicks to keep
+him going. With public sentiment dead against him, with the certainty
+that he would be awfully scorched should the case ever come to trial,
+Captain Canker notified the colonel that under all the circumstances
+he had decided to prefer no charges, and immediately applied for leave
+of absence, went up to Prescott, whence he speedily telegraphed to
+Mrs. Canker to have everything packed up at once and turned over to
+the quartermaster, the general having assured him that he should have
+six-months’ leave. To the infinite disgust of Mr. Ray, Captain Canker
+left the Territory without either an apology or a fight.
+
+Three days after Christmas, Major Bucketts notified Mr. Truscott that
+he was released from arrest, and that the colonel desired to see him.
+In the interview that ensued, Pelham, in deep embarrassment and with
+many a painful stumble, strove to explain to his silent junior how he
+had been torn and twisted and warped in his judgment, and had allowed
+himself to be utterly misled. He strove to do this without in any way
+mentioning his wife’s connection with the matter, but it was useless.
+Truscott sat a patient but utterly impassive listener. He could forgive
+where the wrong had involved only him, but he was thinking of her. He
+could not aid the colonel by the suggestion of a single word, and at
+last the old gentleman in desperation rose and clasped his head in his
+hands.
+
+“Truscott, try and forget this for old times’ sake, for what you know I
+was before this—these women drove me out of my wits.” And the two had
+shaken hands, but the colonel saw plainly that there was no such thing
+as bridging the gulf that stood between them. Truscott was perfectly
+gentle and courteous, full of respect, and evidently strove after that
+outburst to be cordial to his old friend and commander, but the colonel
+plainly saw the effort, plainly saw that Truscott had aged greatly in
+the brief month that had passed, and that the old faith and confidence
+was gone.
+
+But he had still what he conceived another duty to perform. “Your
+resignation was tendered under a grievous misapprehension, and was
+accepted under another. I want you to return to your position at once,
+and would like to issue the order before to-morrow morning.”
+
+And Truscott slowly and gravely replied,—
+
+“Colonel, it is impossible. I cannot do it.”
+
+“You will force me to believe that you cannot or will not accept the
+only amend in my power to offer,” said the colonel.
+
+And Truscott strove to satisfy him.
+
+“Do not think that, colonel. Believe me that I fully appreciate the
+confidence you show in me and the thorough amends you have made, but
+before this interview I had committed myself to another arrangement and
+accepted another detail.”
+
+“Is it one that cannot be recalled, Truscott?” the colonel asked,
+gravely.
+
+“It might be, sir,” said Jack, coloring painfully; “but I beg you not
+to press for further reasons. It is best in every way that I should
+not serve upon your staff.” And Pelham saw that the matter was settled
+once and for all, and at reveille on the following morning Lieutenant
+Truscott took command of Company “C,” vacated by the death of Captain
+Tanner.
+
+Of that interview with his colonel Truscott never spoke until long
+afterwards. How, then, did it happen that it was soon known throughout
+the Department of Arizona that in releasing him from arrest the colonel
+had again tendered the adjutancy to him? Their conversation took place
+in the office. Major Bucketts had withdrawn, the sergeant-major and
+the clerks were at supper, not a soul was present other than the two
+officers, and the colonel would hardly be apt, as colonels go, to
+announce that a position on his staff had been declined.
+
+But the adjutancy had to be filled. Major Bucketts could not do it; he
+was too stiff, old, and clumsy, as he very frankly said, to fill such
+a position. Six of the thirteen first lieutenants of the regiment were
+on staff or detached duty in the East, and Pelham swore that only men
+who served with the regiment in the field should hold its positions
+of honor under him. Crane and Wilkins were utterly unsuitable. There
+were very valid objections to two other first lieutenants serving in
+the southern part of the Territory. Mr. Ray, therefore, was the only
+one left, unless the colonel went down among the second lieutenants,
+which, said he on one occasion, is equivalent to saying that none of
+the first lieutenants are fit for the position. Why would not Ray do?
+And for two days the captains and officers generally derided that Ray
+was to be the coming man. He was a splendid little soldier in the field
+all admitted, and had a great deal of snap and energy in handling his
+troop on drill, but he despised “paperwork,” hated “red tape,” could
+not bear office duty of any kind, and withal was so hot-headed and
+impetuous that he would be sure to get into snarls with the company
+commanders in less than no time. Then he was utterly devil-may-care and
+reckless as to what people might think of his doings and sayings. He
+_would_ drink when he felt like it, and did gamble, not infrequently
+to the neglect of his garrison duties. He could not write a letter
+without the aid of a dictionary, and shunned correspondence of any kind
+as scrupulously as he did the catechism, but for all this, in spite of
+all this, the colonel liked him well. He was as true as steel, faithful
+in friendship, loyal in his likes and dislikes, and an out-and-out
+cavalryman. “A man,” as the colonel had very truly said, “of whom the
+regiment is proud.” And just so soon as he had satisfied himself that
+Truscott would not return to his old position he turned to Ray, and Ray
+very respectfully but positively declined it.
+
+This was a facer. “Has it come to this, by thunder!” said the colonel
+to himself, “that my officers absolutely refuse to serve on my staff?”
+
+“You doubtless have your reasons, Mr. Ray,” said the colonel, “and you
+must be aware that an offer of the adjutancy of a regiment like this is
+not a thing to be treated lightly. I think that I am entitled to hear
+your reasons, sir.”
+
+Ray hesitated and looked perturbed. He had a way of throwing his head
+back and wagging it more or less when he had anything to say that was
+disagreeable to him, or was difficult to frame in diplomatic speech.
+After a moment’s demur the head went back and the answer came, and he
+looked straight in the colonel’s eye.
+
+“It’s just this, Colonel Pelham, I’m too careless to fill the position;
+I’ve no head for that sort of work. I can’t tend to letters and
+such—and—well, sir, I drink too much anyhow.”
+
+“Admitting all that, Ray,” said the colonel, very kindly, “and mind
+you I do not admit all of it, if I choose to take the responsibility
+and, despite your frank statement of what you consider your
+disqualifications, see fit to renew the offer, I think it your place to
+accept—unless you have grave additional reasons.”
+
+“Well, then, colonel, I _have_.”
+
+“And they are what?”
+
+Again Ray hesitated.
+
+“It is my right to know, I think,” said Pelham.
+
+“Very well, sir.” And now the head was wagging in earnest. “In my
+opinion an adjutant should be an officer whom his colonel could trust
+before all others in his regiment. He has got to be thrown into
+constant intercourse with the colonel’s family and should be on cordial
+terms with them; and—and if such a gentleman as Mr. Truscott could not
+be satisfactory to Mrs. Pelham, why, the Lord knows I couldn’t.”
+
+And Colonel Pelham, reddening painfully, pressed for no further reason.
+He was indignant at Mr. Ray for assigning such a cause, yet he knew
+well down in the depths of his heart that but for that very cause
+Jack Truscott would not be as he was—estranged. Ray was permitted to
+withdraw, and the colonel, with gloomy brow, went home to lunch. Grace
+was absent; had gone over to Mrs. Tanner’s again, said her ladyship;
+and she wished that Grace would keep away from there, she was getting
+altogether too intimate with that horrid Mrs. Wilkins; then again, said
+madame, she always manages to be there now, “playing with Rosalie,” she
+says, when Mr. Glenham comes here to see her, and plainly he does not
+like it.
+
+“If he doesn’t like it, Mrs. Pelham, let him leave it,” said the
+colonel, very bluntly. “She cannot do too much now to undo the mischief
+you have played where Mrs. Tanner and—others are concerned. And as for
+this engagement to Mr. Glenham, I’m not half satisfied that it isn’t a
+source of distress instead of joy to her. She’s been looking worse and
+worse every day.”
+
+This was altogether too delicious a conversation for Maggie the
+housemaid to leave unheard. Well she knew that presently her ladyship
+would lose her temper entirely, and then there would be revelations;
+so on one pretext or another she kept bustling in and out of the
+lunch-room, and sure enough the explosion came.
+
+“Know it!” the colonel was wrathfully saying. “Know it! by the eternal,
+madame, how can I help know it when the two best officers in my
+regiment decline the adjutancy, and one of them plainly tells me that
+your infernal behavior is the reason?”
+
+“Leave the room, Maggie!” her ladyship had shrieked before bursting
+into the flood of weeping and lamentation to be expected after such an
+accusation; and Maggie left, and took with her the story, “infernal”
+and all, to Bridget next door, who duly transmitted it along the
+row, so that by dinner-time it was coming back along the piazzas and
+parlors. Oh, those were joyous days at Sandy!
+
+Since their return, neither Truscott nor Ray had called at the
+colonel’s. One, because of his arrest, itself an all-sufficient
+reason, though he had others quite as cogent. The other, out of sheer
+disgust at the thought of his dinner there. He had not even paid
+the conventional dinner-call, and on the few occasions when he met
+Miss Pelham she was with Mr. Glenham or some lady friends, and he
+had confined his remarks to a few awkward platitudes. He had never
+once congratulated her on her engagement, and to Truscott he made no
+allusion to it whatever, yet time and again it was in his thoughts, and
+so was that blood-stained handkerchief he had taken from Truscott’s
+breast. How came it there? thought Ray, and what did that portend? It
+was a new perplexity, and not a particularly pleasant one.
+
+And now Glenham and Hunter had been to see Truscott, and presumably
+had “explained.” Certainly they had apologized for anything they might
+have said or done to wound him in the least, for they openly announced
+the fact at the mess, as though for Ray’s information. Truscott was
+very civil to both, and there was a faint resumption of his old kindly
+manner to Glenham, but _very_ faint, and he did not invite him to
+return to his roof. The holidays were gloomy in the last degree. Mirth
+and music and theatricals and fun went on at Prescott, and thither
+went the young lady visitors when Captain Canker’s ambulance drove up
+with him, but the general’s wife, who had invited Grace to spend the
+holidays with her, or at least expressed a wish that she should do
+so when they parted, was dumb thereafter. She had absolutely made no
+reply to the rather gushing note in which Lady Pelham had announced her
+precious daughter’s engagement to Mr. Glenham, but she had written to
+Jack Truscott, for Glenham saw the letter when the mail was opened, and
+very dutifully told her ladyship thereof.
+
+And now Mrs. Tanner was beginning to sit up a few hours each day, and
+Dr. Harper had gone back to his duties at Fort Whipple. Both he and
+his able coadjutor at Sandy had been unremitting in their attention,
+and Mrs. Wilkins had been simply a wonder. Leaving her own sturdy
+brood to the care of her weaker half and the maid-of-all-work (who
+was likewise the cook), this energetic lady spent her days and nights
+in close attendance on the gentle sufferer, and whether it was from
+such incessant association with that pure, patient soul, or from
+remorse at having, if only to a very slight extent, lent herself to
+the circulation of the story at Mrs. Tanner’s expense, certain it
+is that her rugged and intractable nature was vastly softened and
+subdued. She would flare up and wax furious or else stony when Mrs.
+Pelham made her occasional calls to inquire after Mrs. Tanner, and
+to make sanctimonious or patronizingly sympathetic remarks. Mrs.
+Wilkins could see no good whatever in Mrs. Pelham, and it is to be
+feared that those who shared her opinions were in the majority, and
+very stiff and formal and “it’s-all-your-fault-anyhow” was her manner
+towards that self-satisfied lady when she came. As for Mrs. Pelham,
+it may be briefly said that, having accomplished her object in seeing
+Grace plighted to Glenham, she was quite ready to be magnanimous to
+those whom she had trodden under foot in her struggles to effect that
+end. She was quite willing to admit, she said, that Mrs. Treadwell
+was totally mistaken, and that “we had all been too censorious” where
+Mrs. Tanner was concerned. Indeed, to the vast indignation of Mesdames
+Raymond and Turner, these ladies were virtually given to understand
+that she, Lady Pelham, could never, never have believed such a thing
+of so sweet and gentle a lady had it not been for their positive
+statements, and now there wasn’t a woman in all the garrison except
+the two whom she had most injured (Mrs. Tanner and her own daughter
+are meant, not you, Mrs. Raymond,) who did not hate her and talk
+accordingly.
+
+Madame, however, had long since convinced herself that, having heard
+all she had heard, it was her duty as a mother and a Christian woman
+to come down upon the offenders forthwith, and that because others had
+made a frightful blunder in their suspicions was no reason why she had
+in her acts. In making frequent visits at Mrs. Tanner’s and sending
+up consoling message to that lady she conceived that every amend that
+could be expected was being made. Why her husband should therefore
+continue to treat her with cold civility, why Grace should avoid her,
+why the whole garrison should hold aloof as though she were afflicted
+with some moral leprosy, was more than she could fathom. Glenham was
+her only consolation, and he, poor devil, was constantly at her beck
+and call. She “Arthured” him from morning till night, but never could
+Grace be induced to call him aught but Mr. Glenham, and it soon became
+patent to all beholders that while he but seldom appeared in public
+with, or was believed to be blessed by the society of Miss Pelham, he
+was at all hours dancing attendance upon his prospective mother-in-law.
+Lots of fun they had over it at the mess, where those stiff old prigs,
+as they were laughingly dubbed by Mr. Ray—Truscott and the doctor—were
+the only ones who did not take part in the sly witticisms at Glenham’s
+expense,—in his absence, of course, for his position was too seriously
+unenviable to permit of their chaffing him to his face.
+
+“That old catamaran will disgust him yet, if she hasn’t already,” burst
+out Mr. Ray, one evening. “You hear _me_!” he added, in the slang of
+the day, and Truscott shot his friend a warning glance. He hated to
+hear any woman’s name mentioned in that or any mess-room.
+
+It wanted but two days to New Year’s. Truscott had been busily occupied
+in arranging Tanner’s papers, working most of the time at his own
+quarters, but on two occasions he was in Tanner’s library when madame
+called to make her inquiries; and once, one bright sunshiny afternoon,
+he had stepped quietly in there, for, as he entered the house, he
+heard Grace Pelham’s sweet, low laugh, and a ringing peal from Rosalie.
+They were playing together in the hall above, while Mrs. Wilkins sat
+by Mrs. Tanner in the pretty room over the piazza. He could not help
+wondering how the little one could so soon forget her misery of the
+week before, and yet he was thankful to hear her joyous laugh; thankful
+that Grace Pelham was so constantly with her, striving to entertain the
+lonely little body. As yet he had not seen Mrs. Tanner, but every few
+hours he could learn how she was progressing, and had managed to get
+some few humble wild-flowers to send to her bedside, and Mrs. Wilkins
+brought her love and thanks and inquiries as to his wound. Just how
+deep, intense, and uncomplaining was the suffering of that silent
+little woman heaven only knew. As consciousness and the flutter of life
+came back to her there came with it the blight of a desolation that no
+human pen could ever picture. She lay for hours speechless, striving
+patiently to obey the directions of her physicians or the attendants
+beside her. There was no wailing, no wild raving, no upbraiding, but
+her pillow was wet with her ceaseless tears. O God! how she would have
+thanked Him could she only be laid there by the side of the gallant,
+gentle husband who had made her life one dream of joy and unutterable
+content! But there was Rosalie. There, too, was the baby, now a
+boisterous little two-year-old, full of vim, and exacting in the last
+degree. She strained them to her bosom, and prayed for strength to
+bear her cross. With such sorrow as hers this crabbed and ill-natured
+chronicle has naught to do.
+
+Twice had Grace been admitted to see her by this time, and infinitely
+sweet and tender had her manner been. “Come often,” Mrs. Tanner had
+murmured to her, as she returned the warm pressure of the slender hand
+that lay lingeringly in hers. “Rosalie is growing so fond of you, and
+you are such a comfort.”
+
+And then, as Grace’s eyes began to fill, and an odd tremor to creep
+about the corner of her mouth, the widow twined her fragile arm about
+her neck, and drew the pale, wistful face down to hers. Some cynic
+speaks of the Judas kisses women interchange, but in that caress there
+was a wealth of earnestness that would have disarmed the criticism of
+a Sterne. Mrs. Tanner wondered at the warmth of that embrace and kiss;
+wondered more at the agitation with which Grace suddenly withdrew
+herself from the clasping arm and hurriedly left the room.
+
+And so it happened that, while Truscott was silently at work on
+Tanner’s old desk that afternoon, he heard Mrs. Wilkins’s voice aloft.
+
+“I have to run over home a few minutes, Miss Gracie. Would you mind
+sitting by Mrs. Tanner till I come back? She’ll be glad to have you and
+Rosalie.”
+
+Ten minutes after light footsteps came dancing down the stairs, and
+patting along the hall towards the library-door. Jack Truscott’s heart
+stood still. There was no time to escape, hardly time to think. The
+next instant the door flew open, and the woman he loved stood before
+him. It was their first meeting alone since the day of his avowal
+nearly three weeks agone, and from that day not one word had passed
+between them. She was in the room before she caught sight of him, still
+seated at the desk. Crimson flashed to the roots of her hair. Then she
+grew as pale as he.
+
+“I—I beg your pardon,” she faltered. “I did not know any one was here.
+I’ve only come for a book of Rosalie’s.”
+
+He bowed calmly, gravely.
+
+“You will not disturb my work in the least,” he answered; and the
+profound would-be dissembler ruined the copy he was making by drawing
+thereon a series of pot-hooks that bore no resemblance whatever to
+his ordinary handwriting. “Disturb his work,” indeed! His heart was
+bounding like a trip-hammer with all the enforced calm on his features.
+
+She stood looking hurriedly along the shelves. Then her hand was
+extended aloft to reach the book she needed, but fell short full six
+inches.
+
+“Let me help you,” he said, quickly rising and stepping to her side.
+“Which book is it?”
+
+“The red one,—there;” and her left hand touched with its finger-tips
+the shelf on which it lay, and in slender, snowy grace stood outlined
+before his eyes. Where was Glenham’s ring?
+
+Silently he handed her the book and resumed his seat, and with murmured
+thanks she left the room.
+
+“Who was there?” asked Mrs. Tanner. “I thought I heard you speak.”
+
+“Mr. Truscott,” she replied, and despite every effort the color sprang
+again to her face, and Mrs. Tanner saw it. Grace instantly bent over
+Rosalie, and plunged into a highly moral and instructive article
+descriptive of the time-honored illustration of a luridly-colored lion
+in the meshes of an exaggerated fish-net, the mouse swallowed up in
+the general gorge of color being somewhat indistinguishable.
+
+Presently stable-call sounded, and Mr. Truscott was heard to stow away
+his papers, close the library-door, and leave the house, and when Dr.
+Clayton came in soon afterwards, and Mrs. Tanner expressed a wish to
+see her old friend, if it could be permitted, he readily assented, but
+went off to caution Truscott that no business was to be talked that
+evening.
+
+Shortly before sunset, therefore, while Grace and Rosalie were still
+playing or chatting together in the adjoining room, Mrs. Wilkins
+ushered Truscott up the stairs, and, bidding him enter, discreetly
+withdrew to where Grace was seated on the floor, a picture of amaze and
+embarrassment. She had heard nothing of the arrangement or she would
+have scurried home long ago, and through the open doorway every word
+they said was distinctly audible, and she could not but see the sweet,
+tearful face gazing so gratefully, trustingly up in his, but his back
+was towards her. She strove to resume her chatter with her eager little
+friend, but her thoughts wandered uncontrollably.
+
+“It’s a blessing you are to that little one, Grace Pelham,” said Mrs.
+Wilkins, “and it’s a blessing he is to that poor little woman, hard
+though it must be for her to see him at first.”
+
+For a few moments only broken, sobbing words came from Mrs. Tanner’s
+lips, when any sound came at all, but gradually the tearful accents
+ceased, and her voice, gentle and patient, was mingled with the calm,
+deep tones of his. Painful, sorrowing, tender as that first interview
+must have been to both, there was a sweetness in the very sorrow. At
+last she called Rosalie to come and see Uncle Jack, and the child,
+clinging to Grace’s hand, strove to draw her with her.
+
+“Yes, come with her, Grace dear, _do_,” said Mrs. Tanner, and Grace
+had to come and take the hand the invalid held forth. “Jack, I don’t
+know how we would have got along without Miss Gracie. She has been
+everything to Rosalie, and an infinite comfort to me,” she continued,
+as she drew her down into a chair, and Jack, who had risen and
+courteously bowed on her entrance, resumed his own seat near the foot
+of the sofa. It was a strange meeting.
+
+Lying there upon the lounge, the newly-widowed invalid held in hers
+Grace Pelham’s slender hand, and looking bravely up in the pale
+features of her husband’s chosen friend, listened eagerly to his
+recital of the incidents of the last scout and battles. She insisted on
+hearing them, and he had no reason to give,—he could not but obey. At
+last she asked him,—
+
+“But are you not imprudent in resuming duty so soon? Are you sure you
+are strong enough? I never saw you look so pale and ill, Jack.”
+
+“I am doing very well,” he answered, smiling gravely.
+
+“And yet I know that this is such a busy time in the office, and with
+all your adjutant’s work I ought not to let you touch these affairs of
+mine. Surely they can wait——”
+
+She stopped short. Grace Pelham’s hand, lying in hers, had given an
+unmistakable quiver, and, looking at her in surprise, Mrs. Tanner saw
+a flush of deep embarrassment on her face. Not divining its cause, she
+saw, too, that Truscott had reddened, and then the first call sounded
+for retreat. He rose, and promising to see her on the following day,
+hurriedly took his leave.
+
+“It’s undress parade and publication of orders,” said Mrs. Wilkins,
+gazing out of the window. And, sure enough, the voices of the troop
+commanders could be heard as they marched out to the general parade
+and formed the line; the trumpets rang out the sunset call; the window
+shook to the thunder of the evening gun.
+
+“I’ve so often lain here and listened to Mr. Truscott reading the
+orders, every word was so distinct,” said Mrs. Tanner. “Let us hear
+what they are to-night.” Whereat Mrs. Wilkins suddenly left the room,
+and all within was silence. In strained, wondering attention, Mrs.
+Tanner listened; the hand within hers was trembling violently.
+
+“Why, Grace, that isn’t Mr. Truscott’s voice. You can’t understand a
+word of it, and yet he said he was on duty. What does it mean?”
+
+And for all answer Grace Pelham burst into a passion of tears, buried
+her face in the pillow beside that of her friend, and sobbed as though
+her heart would break. Another moment and both Mrs. Tanner’s arms were
+round her; had drawn her head upon her own gentle bosom; her lips
+pressed kiss after kiss in silent sympathy upon the sunshiny glory of
+the beautiful hair,—the womanly heart had read her secret.
+
+No wonder that when Miss Pelham was wanted for dinner that evening Miss
+Pelham sent back word that she had decided to stay and take tea at Mrs.
+Tanner’s, and Mrs. Pelham had again to explain matters as best she
+could to Mr. Arthur Glenham, who went home despondent.
+
+Before Jack Truscott came to see her on the following morning Mrs.
+Tanner had heard from Mrs. Wilkins’s lips every item of the stories and
+events that had so upset the social serenity of Camp Sandy during the
+past month. It was no difficult matter to learn the whole story. It had
+been bottled up in Mrs. Wilkins’s brain for days, fermenting, seething,
+“coming to a head,” as it were; and when at last Mrs. Tanner gravely
+demanded of her a full statement of Truscott’s loss of the adjutancy,
+his arrest, and everything,—for poor Grace could only vaguely hint
+that there were troubles she could not explain, yet longed to that she
+might ask her forgiveness,—Mrs. Wilkins’s relief was something tragic
+in its intensity. Once uncorked, the story flew forth with a rush; and
+the reader probably has seen enough of Mrs. Wilkins to feel assured
+that Lady Pelham had small mercy shown her. Naturally, however, one’s
+principal alarm may be as to how Mrs. Tanner bore the recital. For her
+husband and for Truscott she was indignant in no mild degree, but she
+said very little. For herself, she hardly thought.
+
+“It’s my belief,” said Mrs. Wilkins, among other things, “that if it
+hadn’t been for the venomous stories of that mother of hers Grace
+Pelham would no more be engaged to that little milksop of a Glenham
+than I would. It was Jack Truscott she fancied from the first.”
+
+And despite her own bitter desolation, many a waking hour did the quiet
+little woman give to earnest thought over the whole matter. It was more
+than a revelation, it gave her something to plan and act upon.
+
+It was after drill when Mr. Truscott came in on the following morning.
+Almost the first thing she did was to give him the key of a tin
+despatch-box belonging to the captain. “My letters to him are in that,”
+she briefly explained, “and I want the package marked ‘From Fort
+Phœnix.’” To him she made no allusion to his changed fortunes or to
+the story she had heard. She was frank, gentle, unembarrassed; but he
+noted a pink flush in the centre of each cheek, which alarmed him, and
+the doctor once more forbade business talks. “What wouldn’t he have
+said did he know of all I’d told her?” thought Mrs. Wilkins, though she
+excused herself by the reflection that had she _not_ related the whole
+affair Mrs. Tanner would have worried her life out trying to fathom it.
+And perhaps she would. Who knows? Truscott soon returned to the desk,
+and announced at luncheon-time that all the work was finished, her
+signature to certain papers being all that was needed. Then he left the
+house.
+
+That afternoon Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turner came together and begged
+to be allowed to come up-stairs and sit with Mrs. Tanner a while. Mrs.
+Tanner begged to be excused. “Do you suppose that woman can have told
+her anything?” asked one of the other.
+
+“She would tell anything she knew,” was the reply of Mrs. Turner, who
+never was known to keep a secret in her life, and yet in her own mind
+was set upon a very pinnacle of discretion.
+
+Later came Grace Pelham, whom Rosalie eagerly ran to welcome, calling
+her “Aunt Gracie,” as she had in some mysterious way learned to speak
+of her sweet friend, and when her voice was heard in the hall below,
+Mrs. Tanner asked that she be invited up at once.
+
+She had been riding with Mr. Glenham, and it would seem as though, of
+late, her favorite exercise had been bereft of all benefit or pleasure,
+and this day the conversation she had undergone with her adorer had
+been far from soothing. He had begun reproaching her for coldness and
+indifference, and she could not and did not specifically deny the
+charge. Very pale and tired she looked as she seated herself by the
+side of her friend, whom she was with every hour learning to love more
+dearly. Mrs. Tanner quickly marked her pallor and fatigue.
+
+“Your ride has been far from enjoyable, I fear, Gracie,” she said,
+and the long interview of the previous evening must have been of a
+most intimate nature to warrant such a piece of impertinence on Mrs.
+Tanner’s part. “Mrs. Wilkins has told me the whole story.” (Here the
+bright, beautiful head hid itself in the most convenient and natural
+resting-place it could find.) “Now I have one to tell you. Are you too
+tired to hear it?” (What woman would be? The head was promptly shaken,
+though the face was still hidden. “Are you sure you are strong enough
+to tell it?” was indistinctly murmured.) “I do not propose to make an
+explanation,” continued Mrs. Tanner, while a very sad, sweet smile
+played for a moment over her pallid face, “but the story is one I _want
+you_ to hear.”
+
+And so in the solemn stillness and peace of the sick-room the truth
+came out. Slowly, gently, the patient sufferer, forgetting for a time
+the bitterness of her bereavement, her illness, her wrongs, told
+the tale of her life since she had come into the regiment and Jack
+Truscott had come into her life; of the letters in which Captain Tanner
+had described him before they came East together; of his appearance and
+bearing at their wedding; of her sister’s admiration for him and the
+correspondence that followed; of the engagement and her own misgiving
+because of that sister’s acceptance of the attentions of the well-to-do
+widower at home. Of Jack’s home-life with them on the frontier, his
+love for little Bertie, his devotion to the baby during her illness,
+his deep tenderness and sympathy when baby died. Ah, no wonder the
+tears rained down her worn face as she spoke of that. Of her sister’s
+deceit and the rupture of their engagement, and of Jack’s delicate and
+manly bearing towards her and her husband after that affair. Of the
+order to Arizona and her own misery at having to leave that little
+grave in far-away Kansas. Of his letters to her and to the captain
+during his separation from the troop, all preserved and cherished yet.
+Of his care of the little grave when they had gone, and his arrival at
+Fort Phœnix six months after.
+
+“He came suddenly,” she said, “and the captain was out on a scout. I
+heard his voice at the door and rushed down to greet him, and there on
+the table in the parlor was a box of earth in which were transplanted
+some of the flowers from Bertie’s grave, that he, the loving, loyal
+fellow, had brought, cared for, watered, and watched through all that
+long journey. No wonder I could not speak. I could only sob my thanks,
+and I did throw my arms round his neck and would have kissed him, only
+he was too tall or astonished, or something. Here’s my letter telling
+my husband all about it, Gracie, and if he thought no wrong of me, why
+should others? Of course _they_ could not know, could not understand.”
+And here Grace raised her own tearful face from the bosom whereon it
+had lain and twined her arms around the slender neck and kissed her,
+the pure lips meeting again and again.
+
+And then the story went on. Of their pleasure at being ordered to
+join headquarters and to again be with Jack in garrison; of the trip
+to Prescott and their alarm when he did not appear; of his grief at
+the loss of “Apache.” “It was to go with him and see his grave that I
+left you all at Olson’s ranch that day.” Of his distress at having to
+communicate to Captain Tanner the order sending him off on a dangerous
+mission the very anniversary of Bertie’s death. “You know now what
+that was to me, Gracie. I had asked him to come and take me out on the
+bluff to see the last of them as they marched away, and when the call
+sounded, just as it did as my baby drew her last breath and lay dead
+in my arms, was it strange that one so ill as I am should swoon?” And
+then she told of the captain’s letters to her and to Truscott, asking
+that those papers should be made out at once and sent by first mail
+to San Francisco; and how they had worked together in the library at
+the copies, and of his hearing the colonel’s voice so late at night
+out on the road, and his going at once to see what was the matter. Of
+his departure to overtake her husband, and how strange she thought it
+that the adjutant should be sent on such a mission. Of his return; then
+of the receipt of the dreadful news, and she could speak no more. For
+hours they clung to one another is silent sympathy, that infinite and
+merciful sweetness of communion which God has given to women who mourn,
+and then, comforted unspeakably, yet infinitely humbled, Grace Pelham
+went home.
+
+The colonel was sitting moodily in his den, and even at her kiss and
+caress did not rouse himself from his abstraction.
+
+“There’s a letter for you from Ralph, dear,” he said, dejectedly. “I’d
+like to know what’s in it.”
+
+She tore it open. A few fond, hurried words of congratulation on her
+engagement. Mother’s letter was just received. So proud and glad to
+think of her being so happily settled. Glenham _must_ be a splendid
+fellow to win and deserve such a prize, etc., etc. Love to all. Ralph.
+
+“P.S.—Need I tell you that it is with infinite relief that I found
+it was not Glenham at all who furnished the money that got me out of
+my scrape? I would have been horribly embarrassed had the benefactor
+turned out to be my future brother-in-law. It was Jack Truscott again
+and all the time, as I found when I went to make the first payment, and
+he made me believe it was Glenham. What a trump that fellow is!”
+
+Without a word Grace stood there staring blankly at the last page.
+
+“What is it, daughter?” asked the colonel, anxiously. She threw the
+letter on the desk before him, rushed from the room, and locked herself
+in her own.
+
+Poor girl! Her thoughts as she lay there sobbing convulsively in
+her trouble were far from hopeful. What had she done that in all
+the buoyancy of youth, health, and her radiant beauty this wretched
+blight should have fallen upon her? All that Mrs. Tanner had told
+her, all that she herself had begun to realize must be true of him,
+all that Ralph’s letter revealed, only showed him, the lover whom she
+had spurned, in nobler, brighter colors; and this knightly soldier,
+this honest and courteous gentleman, this brilliant, gallant officer,
+this loyal, trusted friend, this gentle-hearted man whom she had seen
+sorrowing over the coffin of his comrade, or mingling his tears with
+those of that comrade’s lonely little one, this Bayard without fear,
+without reproach, had laid his heart and honor at her feet, and she
+had turned from the priceless offering in contempt. She had not even
+deigned him one word of acknowledgment, and now, all too late! all
+too late! she knew that love her loyally, faithfully, tenderly as he
+might, no love could stand such a test as that. All too late she knew
+that love her loyally, faithfully, tenderly as he might, he could not
+love her better than she loved him. What reparation could she make?
+What could she say? What would she not do to win back one such look
+as she had seen in his dark, glowing eyes the day he told her of his
+love? And yet how could she utter one word that would not be a betrayal
+of her love that now might well be spurned in turn? How dare she do
+aught to recall him when—when—oh, merciful heaven! how at the thought
+she clutched her streaming hair in her quivering hands!—when she stood
+before him the betrothed wife of another,—another who too had wronged
+him?
+
+With Ralph’s letter the last stone in the fabric of her regard for
+Glenham had been toppled to earth. In desperation at what she believed
+the utter dishonor of her lover she had yielded to the prayers of
+this other suitor and the vehement arguments of her mother. “You are
+even distressing your poor father” had been one of madame’s points,
+and her father had shown plainly that he only tolerated Glenham on
+her account. Even respect for him was gone, for she had heard of his
+vacillation and final abandonment of the chance to go on this last
+scout. She knew, of course, of his abandonment of Truscott’s roof. She
+had absolutely had to beg him to desist when, trying to defend his
+action to her, he ventured to disparage the best and most loyal friend
+he had ever found in the regiment, and now he was wearying her with
+his querulous complaints, his ceaseless moping. She had begged him to
+accept his freedom and give her hers, but he held her to her promise,
+and went and told her mother. Poor devil! Love had made an ass of him
+as it has of stronger men than he, and as for her mother——Ah, no! Let
+that be unsaid. “Honor thy father and thy mother” she had lisped in her
+babyhood, and only within this last month had ambition for her robbed
+that wretched mother of the ready tribute of love and faith and honor
+that hitherto had been unfailing. Poor lady! Sorrowful indeed had been
+her life of late, but what would not be her terror could she see her
+husband’s face as he sat staring at that letter of Ralph’s, while Grace
+lay weeping in her room?
+
+A hand turned the knob of the door and rattled impatiently.
+
+“Grace, if you propose going to Mrs. Turner’s this evening it is time
+you were dressed,” a dismal, monotonous voice was heard to say, and
+Grace started to her feet.
+
+“Come what may, he shall know that I implore his forgiveness,” said
+Grace to herself, as she stood before the mirror; “and come what may,
+Arthur Glenham shall know the truth.”
+
+Despite the general gloom in the garrison, Mrs. Turner had invited a
+few friends (which meant the entire commissioned force at the post,
+with the families of the married officers) to spend the evening at
+her house and mildly celebrate the birthday of her husband, whose
+birthday-cake, an elaborate affair, much studded with waxen tapers, had
+been sent all the way from San Francisco.
+
+“It was a pity to lose it,” she argued, “so, though we are all so blue,
+you know, over dear Captain Tanner’s death, we might just as well have
+a quiet gathering.”
+
+Mrs. Wilkins had refused outright, she had other things to attend to,
+and Mrs. Tanner, of course, was not to be expected; but everybody
+else had accepted, as is customary, unless there be some valid reason
+to urge. Yet, when Turner himself invited Mr. Truscott, he felt it
+necessary to say a few apologetic words. “I know you will not care to
+come anyway, Jack, and I fear that you have heard that which cannot be
+wholly denied, that my wife had some share in the circulation of those
+stories that caused such horrible trouble. Of course, you must know
+how cut up I feel to think that each has been the case, but the tongue
+is an unruly member we are taught; and—well, when you get married,
+old man, may the Lord spare you from finding out what ninety-nine
+out of a hundred husbands discover!—that a woman’s tongue is simply
+uncontrollable. Of course, she’s found out. I’ve told her that you
+have heard of her part in the affair, and she’s awfully nervous about
+the way you’ll meet her. I wouldn’t tell any one else this about my
+wife, Jack, but I rated her roundly for her share of the mischief,
+and—and—I’ll take it as a kindness if you will come and see us. You
+know well what you are to me.”
+
+And so it happened that late that evening Mr. Truscott’s tall form
+appeared among the guests at Captain Turner’s. Mrs. Turner welcomed
+him with vividly coloring cheeks and somewhat over-eager cordiality.
+As for him, his manner was simply as composed and placid as ever, and
+he accepted a seat by the side of his hostess quite as a matter of
+course. Grace was surrounded by the youngsters of the regiment, as
+was to be expected, and Mr. Glenham was pulling discontentedly at the
+scanty hairs which ornamented his upper lip. To this group speedily
+appeared Mr. Ray, lively as ever, and apparently imbued with a spirit
+of mischief. It had occurred to him that here was a good chance to
+worry Mrs. Pelham, whom he had learned to detest most cordially. The
+colonel had been most solemn and gloomy in his manner towards him ever
+since his refusal of the adjutancy, and he had enjoyed no opportunity
+of speaking to Grace herself, and, as bad luck would have it, she did
+not at all care to be monopolized by him, this night of all others. Her
+whole heart was bound up in Truscott. She noted his every movement,
+though her eyes bravely did their duty, and strove to look interested
+in the chatter of Messrs. Dana and Hunter, and she managed to keep up
+her share in the conversation in a lively manner. How is it they can
+do it? If her heart were breaking, such a girl as Grace Pelham would
+manage to appear all life and vivacity under similar circumstances.
+Then Mr. Ray shouldered his way through the circle of admirers, and
+held forth his hand.
+
+“I don’t propose to be kept on the outskirts of this crowd all night,
+Miss Pelham, if I am the oldest and worst-singed moth around the
+candle. I’ve come in to bask a few minutes anyhow, scorch or no scorch.”
+
+She welcomed him cordially, of course. She liked him far better than
+any of the others. She had heard from Mrs. Wilkins all about his
+championship of Truscott’s cause, and of his refusal of her father’s
+offer. She could have blessed him for that. There was not a man fit
+to take her hero’s place, and evidently her father had come to the
+same opinion. She knew that Glenham now disliked Ray, and there was
+just enough of feminine coquetry about her to make that reflection a
+cause of additional cordiality to Ray. But, above all, he was nearer
+to Truscott, more intimate with him now than any of the others, and
+though it was Truscott, and Truscott alone, she longed to speak to,
+Ray would answer when there was nothing better. He rattled on in his
+reckless, superficial style, totally ignoring Glenham or her new
+relations with him; and when suppertime came it was he who hovered
+about her, bringing every dainty he could lay hands on, and playing the
+devoted in a way he could plainly see was making Glenham rabid and Mrs.
+Pelham hideously uncomfortable. “I don’t care,” he said to himself, as
+Arthur went scowlingly off to his would-be mother-in-law. “So long as
+they behaved decently I would, but now I don’t care a chip what they
+think.” But before very long he noticed a something in her manner he
+had never seen before. Bright as she was, and as she strove to be, he
+noted the wandering glance, the occasionally absent-minded replies, and
+it set him to thinking. Next he saw that Truscott and Colonel Pelham,
+punch-glasses in hand, were holding an earnest conversation, and that
+her eyes fled to that particular corner every other minute. “I mean to
+see what this means,” said Mr. Ray to himself. Then,—“Was it possible,
+so early? Surely not going yet?” Mrs. Turner was saying all this in
+response to Truscott’s quiet adieu, and Ray saw that Grace Pelham had
+lost all interest in anything he could say or do, and was gazing with
+wistful eyes after Truscott, who seemed bent on leaving the room at the
+time of all others when people would be too busy to note his departure,
+for supper was not over.
+
+And Colonel Pelham went with him, quietly saying that he would return
+in time to escort madame home. Ray flew to the door.
+
+“What’s your hurry, Jack?”
+
+“Come to my quarters when you get through,” was his answer. “I must
+see Mrs. Tanner for a while, as I leave for Prescott at reveille. Say
+nothing about it,” and he was off.
+
+Ray returned to Miss Pelham, whose eyes looked in earnest questioning
+up into his.
+
+“Isn’t Mr. Truscott coming back? I had hoped to see him.”
+
+“No. Something’s up. I don’t know what.”
+
+“He can’t be—he is not ordered off, is he?” she exclaimed in startled
+tones, and with features rapidly paling despite her efforts at control.
+
+Ray looked in amaze. Then he thought of the handkerchief, of Truscott’s
+changed, worn look, of a hundred little things that flashed upon him
+all at once, and of the intensity of emotion in the sweet, pallid face
+before him. Quick as a flash, he bent over her as he had bent to raise
+her the day of the runaway; hurried and low he spoke.
+
+“If you have anything to say, to send to him, trust me. He goes to
+Prescott at reveille, but told me not to speak of it.”
+
+Gone, and without a glance at her; without one word. Was she so utterly
+beneath him as that? Had she, then, sinned past all forgiveness? Was
+his love so light that it would vanish under the misunderstandings of
+the past week and never again seek for its answer? Was she——Pride and
+resolution came to the rescue. Grace Pelham looked proudly up into the
+sympathetic features of the misguided young man.
+
+“Thanks, Mr. Ray. Nothing that I can think of now. A little more
+coffee, if you please.”
+
+But she thanked heaven when it came time to go, and her father
+appeared. The colonel was sore disturbed about something, and while Mr.
+Glenham hung about the parlor on their return home, that gentleman had
+accompanied Lady Pelham aloft. There his voice was heard in vehement
+accents, hers in protestations, and presently in tears.
+
+“I’ll go,” said Glenham, seeing her distress. “But I must see you
+to-morrow.”
+
+“Yes, go,” she pleaded. “You surely want to say good-by to Mr.
+Truscott.”
+
+“Oh, he’s only going up as witness on a court. He’ll be back in three
+days.”
+
+She closed the door on him relentlessly, and that of the parlor as she
+returned. But her father came down at once.
+
+“Grace dear,” he asked, in a tone of deep agitation, “have you ever
+received a note written you by Mr. Truscott just before he went out
+after Captain Tanner’s command?”
+
+“Never, father.”
+
+Instantly he returned to the room above. And just what transpired in
+that interview heaven forbid that we should care to hear. The colonel
+had discovered that his wife had intercepted Truscott’s letter to
+Grace, and that she had lied to him and to her. She well knew that
+Truscott, not Glenham, had been Ralph’s benefactor.
+
+Two evenings after a number of our friends at Sandy were gathered at
+the colonel’s quarters. “Gloomy Glenham,” as he was now called, Mrs.
+Turner, Mrs. Raymond, Grace, and Mrs. Pelham, the colonel, and several
+junior officers were seated around the parlor. Grace had just been
+singing, and now there came a demand for more.
+
+“Oh, _do_ sing ‘Douglas, Tender and True,’” begged Mrs. Turner.
+
+“Yes, _please_ do,” chimed in Mrs. Raymond.
+
+“It’s your very best song, I think,” said Captain Turner. “Please sing
+it.”
+
+“Very well,” said Grace, reluctantly. She had not sung for days, and
+there were words to this that even in the mere temporary absence of
+Jack Truscott struck home to her heart as she thought of them. “I’m not
+in voice to-night, I fear,” she added; “but I’ll try.”
+
+Had not Mrs. Tanner told her he would be back on the morrow? Had not
+there been something in her sweet, caressing manner that revived hope,
+courage, love in her heart? She turned to the piano again, and Mr.
+Glenham placed the music on the rack. It was no favorite of his. The
+servant entered with a telegraphic despatch, which the colonel opened
+and read.
+
+“I thought so,” said he. “We’ve lost Truscott. He is ordered to West
+Point, and left this morning for San Francisco. Go on, Gracie.”
+
+Go on? go _on_? The room was whirling round her; a deadly choking
+sensation had seized her throat; there was a confused buzzing of voices
+in her ears, exclamations of surprise, regret, dismay; but she heard
+nothing distinctly. White as a sheet, she grasped at the key-board, and
+Glenham stood stupidly staring at her. But in an instant, through filmy
+eyes, she saw a glass of water before her, and she eagerly seized and
+drank it, and a cheery voice was murmuring something quick and stirring
+in her ear. It was Ray.
+
+“Rally all your pluck. Sing as you rode, Miss Gracie; I’ll back you
+to win.” And with all the _nonchalance_ in the world he replaced the
+goblet on a distant table, saying so that all could hear,—
+
+“I really beg your pardon, Miss Pelham. When you asked for water I
+thought it was Glenham you addressed; and then that beggarly telegram
+came, and I forgot your request entirely.”
+
+Bravely, gallantly, she raised her head and strove to crush out the
+whirl of wretchedness in which her father’s announcement had engulfed
+her. Hardly realizing what it was she was called upon to sing, she
+rapidly played the soft, sweet prelude, and, with voice that trembled
+as though in harmony with the spirit of the song, began,—
+
+    “Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas
+       In the old likeness that I know,
+     I’d be so faithful, so loving, Douglas
+       Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.”
+
+All conversation had ceased; all ears were drinking in the exquisite,
+plaintive melody; all eyes were upon her, and she knew it. Oh, what
+would she not give to be singing anything—anything else? But it was too
+late now.
+
+    “I was not half worthy of you, Douglas,
+       Not half worthy the like of you;
+     Now all men beside you to me are shadows,
+       Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.”
+
+“My God! can she do it?” muttered Ray, between his set teeth. “It’s the
+next hurdle that will try her nerve.” And he leaned against the light
+table, looking quickly around upon its load of books and albums. Then
+his eyes returned to their eager watch. She was trembling; she threw
+back her head and forced herself to commence again,—
+
+    “O to bring back the days that are not!
+       Mine eyes were blinded, your words were few;
+     Do——”
+
+Crash! came table, books, Ray, and all in clattering uproar and
+confusion over the parlor floor. He sprang to his feet, all dust,
+embarrassment, and profuse apologies. Shouts of laughter, long, ringing
+peals of merriment filled the room. Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Raymond went
+almost into hysterics; Raymond, Hunter, and Glenham guffawed outright;
+the colonel almost choked into an apoplectic seizure, and Grace,—Grace
+covered her face in her handkerchief and wept hysterically until she
+could regain control of herself, and thanked and blessed him from the
+bottom of her heart.
+
+“Well, Mr. Ray,” gasped Mrs. Raymond, at length, “that’s the first
+clumsy thing I ever knew you to do in my life.”
+
+Only one pair of eyes besides his had seen that she could not sing
+another word; that an utter break-down most come, and a flood of tears
+with it, and Mr. Ray anticipated the break-down, and provided a cover
+for the flood of tears. It might have been clumsy, but she knew better.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+And now the winter is gone, the glad spring-time has come, the voice of
+the turtle would doubtless be heard in the land if that sort of melody
+were in vogue in these days of scepticism, and the promotion, which we
+are biblically assured cometh neither from the east nor from the west,
+nor from any source whatever, as is beginning to be the creed in our
+veteran army, has nevertheless come to Jack Truscott.
+
+A vacancy has occurred in a popular staff department. Applicants for
+that majority are numbered by the dozen. Senators and Representatives
+in Congress assembled swarm about the White House to advocate the
+claims of captains by the score, of lieutenants by divisions, and there
+are majors in the line who wouldn’t mind losing a year or two of rank
+to get out of frontier duty and into an easy office chair, with clerks
+and check-books and cigars _ad libitum_. There are old captains who
+have commanded divisions or brigades during the great war, fellows with
+unimpeachable records and undoubted ability and not a few battle-scars
+and gray hairs and grandchildren; old soldiers, who would gladly turn
+over their small squad of a company to some young and vigorous and
+unencumbered enthusiast, in whose breast hope springs eternal; old
+soldiers, who would lend dignity and honor to the department in which
+the vacancy has occurred, and would thrice welcome the opportunity to
+see a prospect of a home before them and school for the youngsters.
+Congress is in session, important measures are up for discussion,
+yet the newspapers give daily a quarter of a column to telegraphic
+speculations as to whom the President will appoint to the vacancy
+in that department. Captain A. is warmly backed by Senator B. Other
+captains, with undeniable war records, are backed by the delegations
+of their States; but Captain C., who is a first cousin of a prominent
+inmate of the White House, has a capital chance, unless the President,
+in despair at having to choose from so many admirable war histories,
+should decide on Lieutenant D., only a few years out of the Point, and
+whose numerous friends at Washington are confident of his success.
+
+At last the announcement is made. “The President has determined that
+the appointee shall represent the fighting branch of the service, and
+it is now known that his excellency will nominate a gallant officer of
+a distinguished cavalry regiment that has for years past been doing
+arduous and bloody work among the savages of Arizona.” And eminently
+proper this seems to the army at large and to the general public, who
+have no personal interest in the candidates. And so it results that our
+gallant friends of the —th are recognized, and the promotion falls upon
+a distinguished officer of that distinguished regiment; and Captain
+Wormley, of the District of Colombia for years past, and known to the
+—th only upon its monthly returns, but having a wide circle of admiring
+friends in the Capital City, where he has been for years on some
+mysterious staff duty, becomes Major Wormley of the —’s department.
+He is son of a statesman, nephew of a cabinet officer’s lady, brother
+of a Congressman’s wife, cousin of a War Department official, and
+cousin-german, so to speak, to half the pretty girls in Washington.
+Welcome, major, to your leaves and laurels, and long may you live to
+lord it over subsequent appointments by telling them that you “came in
+from the cavalry”!
+
+“But it gives Jack Truscott the double-hurdles on his straps,” shouted
+Mr. Ray, in huge delight. “Let’s send him a royal old telegram of
+congratulation.” And that evening, as he sits at dinner and receives
+the hearty greetings of the officers’ mess on the far-away banks of the
+Hudson, Jack’s heart turns to the old crowd in the —th, now marching in
+from Arizona. Their message had reached him.
+
+So has another,—a letter from his loyal friend, the general’s wife, who
+long since assured him that she knew “it would all come out right.” So,
+too, has another still; for only this very day has he heard from Mrs.
+Tanner, and it must be admitted that Jack’s thoughts wandered more upon
+what they had written than upon the elevation he had so unexpectedly
+attained. Extracts may be of interest to those who have found anything
+of interest in our story.
+
+“Didn’t I tell you so?” wrote the first. “Grace Pelham’s engagement
+is broken at last. She never cared—she never _could_ care for such a
+humdrum creature as Mr. Glenham. Why, Jack, when she came up here after
+you went East, he followed too, and it just used to make me sick the
+way he moped and whined around after her. She has tried a dozen times
+to get him to release her, so everybody says, but he wouldn’t. That
+mother of hers made her stick to her word (although I hear she had
+mighty small regard for her own), and the colonel of course would not
+interfere. Once they thought Mr. Ray was going to cut in and win her
+away; but _I know_ that was just a real frank liking she had for him.
+Anyhow, the engagement’s broken, and I have heard he’s going to resign
+when they get East. She left here for San Francisco, with her mother,
+Mrs. Turner, and Mrs. Raymond, all under Ralph’s charge, three days
+ago. Mrs. Wilkins swears she’s going to march across the continent with
+the boys.
+
+“Well, we’re mighty sorry to lose the —th, though it did seem to run
+down-hill after you left. I’m not the only one that says so, Jack; so
+you needn’t laugh. They will have better stations and all that sort of
+thing in the East, but all the ladies will join now, I suppose, and
+then won’t there be fun?
+
+“And now, Jack, you may say it’s none of my business, but if you don’t
+very soon write to me that you have succeeded in consoling a certain
+young lady for the loss of much valuable time and one lover, I shall be
+a disappointed woman.”
+
+Upon the same subject Mrs. Tanner wrote from her home in Massachusetts:
+
+“Letters from the old regiment bring me most interesting news. There
+is no doubt that Mr. Glenham has at last released Grace Pelham from
+her engagement. Both Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Turner write to the same
+effect. She has been very unhappy in this tie to a man who was greatly
+her inferior, and the rupture of the engagement must be a relief
+inexpressible.
+
+“Of course, both letters are filled with gossipy details as to how it
+was brought about; but, knowing your horror of all that sort of talk, I
+refrain. One thing, however, seems certain. It was _his_ doing and is
+final.
+
+“Jack, dear friend, I grew to know her so well and to love her dearly
+in those sad days at Sandy, but there were some matters of which we
+never spoke. You know how I grieved over the wrong done you by my own
+kith and kin years ago, and how I _must_ want to see you happy. There
+was something more than suspicion in my mind that you and sweet Grace
+Pelham had been ruthlessly separated by misunderstanding—perhaps by
+design—at Sandy. There was some garrison talk of a letter of yours that
+never reached her, and yet was delivered _for_ her to Mrs. Pelham, and
+in some way I found it was generally known that she had sent back your
+spurs without a word of explanation. Have you those spurs yet, Jack?
+I fancy that if they were to find their way into her hands again, you
+might find it difficult to reclaim them.”
+
+That April evening a warm south wind was sweeping up the Hudson, and
+moist and sweet, bearing the faint perfume of the early lilacs upon its
+bosom, it played through the curtains of Truscott’s open window. He had
+early left the mess, and separated from the officers who had strolled
+homeward with him. “Had letters to write,” he explained, and yet, half
+an hour afterwards, when three or four lively comrades stopped under
+the window in the “Angle,” and looked up, they abandoned the project of
+rushing in “to give Truscott a rattle over his promotion,” for, said
+they, “he must be out.” There was no light in his room.
+
+No light burning from jet or lamp, perhaps, but Jack was there, and a
+light of hope, love, and deep thankfulness was burning in his heart of
+hearts, and he was thinking—thinking. Well he recalled that last night
+at Sandy. How old Pelham had walked home with him from the Turners’,
+and in deep embarrassment had told him of Ralph’s letter. Tears of
+gratitude and of deep emotion stood in the colonel’s eyes and his
+voice was broken, his hand tremulous. That night all the old trust and
+affection was restored between them, but not a word was said of Mrs.
+Pelham or Grace until Jack reminded him that he had to go and see Mrs.
+Tanner a little while, and then it came out.
+
+“I’ve got one thing I _must_ ask you, Truscott. I’ve overheard some
+talk about a letter you sent to our house for Grace before you went out
+on that scout. She never got it, I understand. Did you ever send such a
+letter?”
+
+“Yes, colonel, once, and no reply ever reached me.”
+
+“Then depend upon it, Jack, it never got to Grace; she was ill you
+know, and it—it must have been mislaid.”
+
+But now it was too late: the mischief was done. The colonel did not
+dream how much depended upon that little note, and not until long
+afterwards did he know the truth, that Mrs. Pelham had shown it to
+Arthur Glenham, and he had been weak—mean enough to read it. Then it
+was that under the influence of that indomitable woman he had removed
+from Truscott’s quarters and afterwards accused him of treachery.
+
+Well Jack recalled her sweet face and animated manners as Grace sat
+conversing with Ray that night, and his sense of utter desolation as
+he left the garrison at sunrise. No one but he really knew that he
+expected to be met at Prescott by telegraphic orders to proceed at once
+to the Military Academy for duty in the department of tactics, and he
+dreaded the formal “good-byes” that would have to be undergone were the
+order to reach him while still at Sandy. And now he understood why she
+had never replied to that urgent little note of his, and bitterly he
+blamed himself for ever permitting the thought that she had received
+and had trifled with it as she had with his love. Over an hour he sat
+there plunged in deep thought, for even in his new-found hope and
+happiness he dared make no false step. Then he rapidly wrote a short
+letter, and on the following evening Mrs. Tanner received this query:
+“Where will a letter reach Miss Pelham?” On the third day the answer
+came: “Care of Adjutant-General, Division of the Missouri, Chicago.
+They are visiting friends there while waiting for the regiment to come
+in. Then they go to Fort Hays. They may visit Mrs. Treadwell there for
+a while.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+One rainy, dripping, depressing morning a week later, while a damp,
+smoke-laden, coal-blackened fog had settled down on the wicked
+city of Chicago, and the minds of its denizens were more than ever
+disposed towards the inevitable ills that life in such an atmosphere
+must generate, three ladies of or beyond medium age sat yawning and
+disconsolate under the lighted chandelier in a comfortable parlor; a
+fourth—young, sweet, and vastly attractive—sat somewhat listlessly at
+the piano, her slender hands wandered over the keys, and Schubert’s
+beautiful, dreamy “Praise of Tears” softly rose and fell in plaintive
+melody through the silence of the room.
+
+“For goodness’ sake, Grace,” exclaimed one of the elder ladies,
+pettishly, “_do_ stop that dismal thing and play something lively! You
+will drive us all into our shrouds with such funeral stuff as that.”
+
+In vain the others protested it was lovely, and begged Grace Pelham
+to continue. Mamma had resumed her sway, and Grace, away from the
+supporting voice of her father, and no longer the prospective Mrs.
+Arthur Glenham, with a fortune at her disposal and a fool at her feet,
+had meekly, resignedly fallen back into her old habit of uncomplaining
+obedience.
+
+A servant entered with the mail, handing to Mrs. Pelham two or three
+bulky letters, in which she immediately became engrossed, and to
+Grace a small parcel, at which the young lady glanced curiously, then
+eagerly, and then fled from the parlor.
+
+Once safely in her own room, and with the door locked between her and
+would-be pursuers, she carried her prize to the window. It was small,
+compact, firmly wrapped in strong white paper, strongly tied, sealed,
+and registered. It was post-marked West Point, and needed only a glance
+at the superscription to tell her the sender’s name. For an instant
+she held it, trembling from head to foot, then cut the strings, opened
+the little box, unrolled with quivering fingers and beating heart the
+dainty wrapping of tissue-paper, and came upon something white and
+soft, tied with ribbon. On it was a card.
+
+  “These are yours. The spurs you won at Sandy; the handkerchief you
+  dropped at my door at Prescott, and in faith and constancy I have
+  worn it till now.
+
+  “If you value that which you have won, hold it, and return to me the
+  only semblance of the tie that has bound me to you, and it shall bind
+  forever. If your prize be worthless to you, send it back, and in so
+  doing break the tie. _Comme—fidèle._
+
+                                                          “J. G. T.”
+
+And Grace Pelham read till the tears blinded her eyes, dashed them
+away, then read again, tore open the little packet in which lay two
+silver spurs rolled in a snowy kerchief, which was rent and torn
+inexplicably, and which bore in white embroidery in the corner the
+simple name, “Grace.”
+
+And then she sank upon her knees, burying her bright, beautiful head in
+the pillow, and wept unrestrainedly, but oh! so humbly, so gratefully,
+so joyously, holding her treasures to her heart.
+
+And three days more the torn handkerchief was back in Truscott’s breast.
+
+“Colonel,” said he to the commandant of cadets the following morning,
+“I want a week’s leave. It is an unusual time for one of the department
+to be away, but, as you know, I cannot leave in the summer. My regiment
+is just back in Kansas, and I want to run out to Fort Hays and see
+them. Mr. X., with your consent, will take charge of my duties. I will
+be back for muster on the 30th.”
+
+And the leave was granted. It would give him just time, provided there
+was no detention, to speed westward to St. Louis, thence to Kansas
+City, and so on to Fort Hays, to spend twenty-four hours there, and
+then rush back the way he came. Not much satisfaction, possibly, for so
+long a journey, but he went.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Headquarters and four troops, with the band, had arrived at the little
+frontier post of Fort Hays, officers and men being still encamped
+upon the open prairie alongside, while those ladies who had hurried
+thither to meet their returning lords were hospitably entertained by
+the families in the garrison who had not yet moved away, and here
+it was that Mrs. Treadwell had thrown open the large and commodious
+quarters of the commanding officer to Mrs. and Miss Pelham. Here, too,
+were our old acquaintances, Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turner. Here were
+other ladies of the regiment whom it has not been the felicity of the
+reader to meet. Here, too, were three or four young ladies, gathered
+from neighboring posts, and ready and eager to put up with scant
+accommodation, for would there not be two bands at Hays for a while,
+and was there not to be given a grand ball by the outgoers to the
+incomers, and was not that big, empty barrack, with its polished wax
+floor, “the loveliest place in the world for a German”? Oh, bright and
+bonny and sunshiny and jubilant was everything and everybody at Hays
+in that glorious, radiant spring weather, and who more bright, who so
+bonny, who half so radiant and lovely as Grace? The colonel wondered at
+her brilliant color and sparkling eyes, marvelled at the lightness of
+her step, at the ringing music of her sweet voice. Sing! Why, she sang
+from morn till night.
+
+“And yet,” said one of the visitors, “you tell me she has been jilted
+by that young man with ten thousand a year who has just resigned. I
+would be down in sackcloth and ashes.”
+
+Would he write? Would he come? One or other she knew it would be, and
+that right soon. And so when Major Bucketts came stumping into the
+Treadwells’ parlor one evening waving a despatch and beaming with
+delight, she felt sure what was coming before her father burst out
+with,—
+
+“By Jove! that _is_ good. Jack Truscott will be here to-night.”
+
+There was an impromptu dance going on, and thither Grace could not but
+wend her way, and her escort, a deeply-smitten youth of the infantry
+persuasion, was impatiently awaiting her. Dozens of young people were
+blithely dancing to the strains of sweet music from the tireless
+orchestra, and, though she danced unceasingly, joyously, the hours
+seemed to drag. It would be near midnight before the train from the
+East reached the station. Would it be late? Would the dance break up
+before he could come? Would Major Bucketts be stupid and take him off
+to his own quarters instead of bringing him there? Would he speak to
+her then? Could she see him? Could she look in his face and not betray
+to every soul in the room the glowing secret that seemed bursting from
+heart and brain? Eleven o’clock came at last, and then the minutes
+stretched into hours, and midnight lay a century away. Yet she was
+striving to be calm, striving to be bright and “entertaining” with her
+round of partners. Oh, how she tired of their chatter! their utterly
+vapid efforts to amuse her! How she wished Ray were there! He would
+let her dance, or sit in silence and wait and think and dream, keeping
+vigilant guard lest others interfere, as he had learned to do for
+her in Arizona, yet interfering not himself; but Ray was far to the
+westward. Fate had assigned him elsewhere,—and midnight came at last.
+To her misery, the hop was breaking up, the dancers going home. Some
+had already left.
+
+“Oh, can’t we have just one more waltz?” she implored, and obediently
+the leader signalled to his sleepy bandsmen. Then there was a rush and
+commotion at the doorway. Young officers were dropping their partners
+and precipitating themselves on a new arrival; a dozen glittering
+uniforms were crowding about a tall, soldierly-looking fellow in
+civilian’s dress who was being half dragged, half pushed, then carried,
+nearly smothered, into the hall. Mesdames Raymond and Turner rushed
+rapturously upon him, other dames followed suit. The younger damsels
+gazed with decorous curiosity, and Miss Pelham’s infantry escort, with
+misguided jocularity, inquired, “Who may be this lengthy party in cits?
+I suppose we may venture to dance, may we not?” And had he been a youth
+of brain he might have learned a lesson from the manner of her reply.
+
+“Not just now. It’s Captain Truscott, our old adjutant.”
+
+“Oh! That’s Jack Truscott, is it?” was all the crestfallen youth could
+say, and then they stood still and watched, and the band stopped
+playing.
+
+Is the world made up of idiots? Could no one see how his eyes were
+wandering over their heads about the room? Had not those little
+whip-snappers of boys more sense than to know that it was not on
+their account he had come all that distance? Would they never let him
+go? Would those absurd women never release him? Must he stand there
+patiently striving to answer a dozen questions asked at once while she
+stood waiting? And when he did break through, and came towards her with
+quick, eager step and a glorious light in his dark eyes, could they not
+even then see through it all? must they still hang to his skirts with
+idiotic inquiries of no earthly importance? Only for an instant could
+Grace glance up in those glowing hazel eyes, while her cheeks burned
+with their shy delight.
+
+“I’m so glad to see you again,” was all she had time to falter in
+response to his tremulous voice breathing only her name. Then he was
+dragged off, and she homewards. He to Bucketts’s quarters, where his
+old comrades crowded around him till late towards morning; she to wait,
+with trembling joy, for the coming day.
+
+Yet what did that bring? She was out at guard-mounting, so was he, and,
+breaking loose from the group surrounding him, came at once to meet
+her, and the wooden-headed imbeciles flocked instantly about them,
+and not a word alone had he in the hour they were together. Then came
+madame, with Mrs. Treadwell, and the carriage to take a drive. She
+had not known when to expect him, had promised to go, and could not
+now avert it. It was nearly one when they returned, and then they had
+to dress for luncheon at the doctor’s. And he had been dragged off to
+stables by the colonel to see the new horses by the time they came
+back, and the colonel did not release him until near retreat. Nor was
+he one instant alone with him. Even _his_ placidity was sorely tried.
+“But never mind,” he thought, “I dine at the Treadwells’, and there,
+at least, there will be opportunity.” Nevertheless, at parade, finding
+it impossible to separate her from the swarm of feminines who flocked
+about her, and the officers who gathered in clusters the instant they
+were dismissed from their duties, he turned to Bucketts.
+
+“Old man, have the ambulance at Treadwell’s at ten o’clock to take me
+to the station. Put my valise in, _and do all you can to keep the crowd
+away from there to-night_.” And Bucketts understood.
+
+Even at dinner all went wrong. Oh, Mrs. Treadwell, either your tact had
+deserted you, or Lady Pelham’s malign influence had been again at work.
+Grace was seated beyond his reach. He could not even see her, for she
+was on his side of the table, and there were other guests between them.
+Dinner was long, frightfully long.
+
+“Jack, must you go to-night?” called the colonel to him. “Can’t you
+wait until to-morrow’s train? You will reach the Point by the 30th even
+then.” And Truscott could only shake his head.
+
+Would that ghastly dinner never end? It was nearly nine o’clock when
+they rose and strolled into the parlor. Then he went at once to her
+side. Two young officers were speaking to her then, but time was
+precious. She half moved forward to meet him.
+
+“Must you go to-night?” she murmured, looking almost tearfully up in
+his eyes.
+
+“Yes, at ten. Yet I cannot——”
+
+“Captain Truscott, _Captain_ Truscott, didn’t you hear? Colonel
+Treadwell says won’t you smoke?” And Mrs. Turner was pulling at his
+coat-sleeve. (Smoke at such a time!) “How ungallant you’ve grown! You
+used to be the soul of—why, _I_ don’t know—_devotion_, and here I had
+to call you twice—three times.”
+
+“_Did_ you see Mrs. Tanner? Isn’t it lovely she’s so well off? Do you
+think she’ll marry again?” Mrs Raymond was firing at him from the other
+side.
+
+“_Do_ tell us about West Point. Is Mrs. Ruggles there now? _Why_ do you
+have to go to-night? How stupid of you to come for so short a time!”
+Mrs. the doctor was having her say.
+
+The other men, except two or three youngsters, were still in the
+dining-room smoking. What _could_ be done? He was surrounded by these
+chattering magpies, and Grace was fairly driven from his side. Mrs.
+Pelham had called her. Mrs. Treadwell was asking her to sing. Then
+the women turned on her and _implored_ her to sing. Everybody knows
+that right after dinner is the very time of all others one feels like
+singing. Grace had to sing, and it was half-past nine before the
+oldsters came out, and then tattoo drew several of the younger people
+away.
+
+“_Surely_, you are going to the hop-room, Grace?” Mrs. Pelham was heard
+to say. “I heard Mr. Roberts asking you.”
+
+And Grace looked imploringly at her father.
+
+“Indeed, she’s not. Truscott’s got to go in twenty minutes, and I want
+to see him, so does Grace,” that veteran answered, stoutly.
+
+Still there were a dozen people in the parlor, and time was spinning
+away. Grace was implored to sing again, and sing she had to. Mrs.
+Treadwell and Mrs. Pelham were chatting with the doctor at a distant
+end of the room. The colonel and Treadwell, lolling back in their
+easy-chairs, were beating time and enjoying the music. The doctor’s
+wife and Mesdames Raymond and Turner were pestering Truscott with
+questions even as she sang. Grace was at the piano, and he had eagerly
+stepped to her side to turn over the leaves for her, but they called
+him away as the song ceased, and nervously looking at his watch,
+pulling savagely at his moustache, Jack Truscott commenced pacing
+rapidly up and down the parlor. How odd of him! How excitable for one
+ordinarily so calm!
+
+Listening eagerly to his every word, listening in torture to
+their senseless chatter and questioning, Grace Pelham sat running
+dreamily over the exquisite music, the accompaniment of Kucken’s
+“Good-night,—Farewell,” an accompaniment that is a lovely song in
+itself.
+
+“Yes indeed, Mr. Truscott—Captain Truscott, I mean,” Mrs. Turner was
+saying, “we’ve been hearing all manner of accounts of you at West
+Point. I quite expected long ere this to hear of your being in love
+somewhere, and (coquettishly) forgetting all your old friends in the
+—th. _Of course_ now, with your captaincy, you will be seeking a wife?”
+
+“Of course,” he answered, with a sudden resumption of preternatural
+calmness, but still striding up and down.
+
+“You mean to be married, _really_?” Vividly interested were the ladies
+now, and the sweet accompaniment went tremulously on.
+
+“Certainly, I do.”
+
+“You _have_ fallen in love, then?”
+
+“Long ago.”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Truscott!” “Why, Captain Truscott!” “Oh, when?” “What a
+surprise!” “Who is she?” “_Do_ tell us!” came in general chorus, even
+Pelham and Treadwell pricking up their ears.
+
+“Are you really, _really_ in love? _very_ much?”
+
+“I am—deeply.”
+
+“Then when are you to be married?”
+
+[Breathless silence.]
+
+“I don’t know.”
+
+“Don’t know! Why not?”
+
+“Because I’ve never asked her yet.”
+
+“How absurd! Why haven’t you? Doesn’t she love you?”
+
+“I’ve never asked her.”
+
+“Preposterous! What do you mean?”
+
+“She knows you love her, does she not?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then why don’t you ask her? Why haven’t you——”
+
+“I have never had a chance, and at this rate never expect to get one.”
+
+(The accompaniment had wellnigh died away. Grace was bending blindly
+over her piano.)
+
+“What can you mean? _Who_ is it?” persisted that eminently brilliant
+cross-examiner, Mrs. Turner, though others with gradually expanding
+ideas were beginning to take in the situation.
+
+He had stepped close by the piano, his watch again in his hand. The
+wheels of an ambulance rattled up to the door. Proudly, almost
+defiantly, he turned and faced them all, then bent over the beautiful,
+bowed head, the trembling form that drooped over the keys. A wonderful
+depth of love, reverence, tenderness, passion thrilled through every
+word, as he murmured—
+
+“Gracie. It is my only opportunity; but, before the world, if need be,
+I would say it proudly, I love you.”
+
+The accompaniment had ceased. The sweet, blushing face was hidden by
+his arm. Before them all he had wooed and won her.
+
+“All the world loves a lover” (unless it be the lady’s younger brother,
+when she has one). If not, how did it happen that on this particular
+evening that express train on the Kansas Pacific should be telegraphed
+as two hours late, and that Bucketts should find it out just in the
+“nick of time,” and bring word to Truscott as he was coming forth to
+drive to the station, taking leave of his sweet betrothed, even as he
+had had to plead his cause—before them all? Will it be believed that
+when the quartermaster appeared with his glad tidings and called out,
+“Jack, old boy, that train won’t be along till after midnight, so I’ll
+send the trap back to the corral,” Mrs. Turner absolutely proposed
+staying and making up a party to see him off, and was indignant because
+her husband spirited her off homewards? Then the others followed, and,
+thanks to Pelham’s resolution, Jack Truscott and his _fiancée_ were
+left in peace. Mrs. Pelham, a martyred wife and mother, was sent to
+bed, and the colonel and Treadwell retired to the dining-room to smoke
+another cigar. It was the happiest night the colonel had known in ever
+so long.
+
+And now the minutes flew like seconds; the blessed two hours whirled
+away. Once more ’twas almost time for the ambulance to rattle up to
+the house, and this time there could be no postponement. They were
+standing under the hanging-lamp in the centre of the room, the bright
+light shimmering through her rippling hair, and shining back from the
+beautiful eyes ever and anon raised so happily, so trustingly to his.
+
+“There is something I want to ask you,” she said, shyly, as another
+reference to his watch showed that they had but a few moments more to
+call their own. He was looking smilingly down into her bonny, blushing
+face.
+
+“What is it, Gracie?”
+
+“About the packet you sent me with the spurs. Was my handkerchief
+really so torn when I dropped it?”
+
+“It was not torn at all.”
+
+“Then how did you come to abuse it so frightfully, sir? Is that the way
+you treat my property?”
+
+He was smiling mischievously now.
+
+“I kept it in as safe a spot as I could find,” he answered.
+
+“Where?” and her head drooped as she asked it.
+
+“Very near to my heart, Miss Pelham.”
+
+“Then how came those jagged rents, I’d like to know?”
+
+“An arrow did that, mademoiselle, the morning of Tanner’s fight down in
+Tonto basin,—a day or two after you jilted me, to be explicit.”
+
+And for all response she could only bury her face upon the breast
+where, at that moment, her torn treasured handkerchief was lying.
+
+“What else have you to ask?” he questioned, as she presently glanced up
+into his eyes again.
+
+“What does _comme_—_fidèle_ mean?”
+
+“Where is your French, Miss Pelham?”
+
+“I never did know so very much, and this is utterly beyond me,” she
+answered, laughingly. “You wrote it so queerly: _comme_, then a dash,
+then _fidèle_. There is no sense to it that I can see.”
+
+He drew her closer to his heart, and bent until his lips almost brushed
+the soft, perfumed ripples of her hair. “It has its meaning, though,
+and a deep one. It is my pledge to you, my darling,—_Fidèle—à la fin,
+comme—au commencement_.”
+
+Presently the ambulance once more was heard, and old Pelham came
+blithely in.
+
+“Grace dear, I’m going to drive over to the station with Truscott,
+and I want somebody with me coming back,—to keep the wolves away, you
+know,” he added, with a Weller-like wink, very unbecoming such rank and
+dignity. “Run and wrap up warm, daughter.”
+
+Then, as she obediently went, the two men clasped hands and looked into
+each other’s eyes.
+
+“Does it occur to you that it was about time I asked your consent, sir?”
+
+“You have had it—all along. God bless you, Jack!”
+
+Will she ever forget that ride to the station, I wonder? How those
+scamps of bachelor officers poured forth from Bucketts’s tent over in
+camp and surrounded the ambulance ostensibly to bid “him” good-by; the
+stage-whispers which passed between them.
+
+“Good-by, Jack. We all meant to come over to the station to see you
+off, but the colonel gives us fits if we’re up after midnight now.”
+
+“Take care of yourself, old man. _Say_, don’t let the colonel see you
+go into Tommy Dunn’s. _What!_ Miss Pelham, you here too!”
+
+She sat in the dark corner of the carriage, where she could dimly see
+his form as he leaned forward talking earnestly with her father as they
+drove rapidly over the smooth prairie roads. Not a word did she speak,
+but an inexpressible content and joy possessed her. He was going. It
+might be many a long weary month before she could see him again, but
+her heart went with him, and his?—ah, had it not been in her keeping
+for months past?
+
+They reached the station; dark and still it looked: one faint light
+burning in the station-master’s office; but thither the colonel found
+it necessary to go. The ambulance and its driver went off, oddly
+enough, and “hitched” directly in front of the very establishment Jack
+had been warned to shun. And then on the dark platform, lighted only by
+the glowing stars above, the red and green signal-lamps up and down the
+track, Grace Pelham and her lover were alone.
+
+All too soon, far up the line the brilliant head-light of the train
+came sweeping into view. They were pacing slowly along the platform,
+her hands clasped upon his arm. She stopped suddenly.
+
+“You have never asked me why—why Mr. Glenham broke our engagement, and
+I thought it was something you ought to know,” she said, falteringly.
+
+“I never intended to ask, Gracie, nor do I care to question you about
+any of that wretched experience at Sandy,” he said, tenderly.
+
+“But it was something I want you to know, and I cannot tell you unless
+you ask.”
+
+“Then, I do ask,” he answered, smiling.
+
+“He told me two months ago that he knew I cared nothing for him, and
+asked me whom I did love?”
+
+“And you told him——”
+
+“That I loved you, Jack.”
+
+Both his arms were round her in an instant, his head bent down over the
+sweet face now buried on his breast. She _had_ to raise it shyly and
+glance up into his eyes in answer to his appeal, then his lips sought
+hers, and their fervent pressure was answered. One moment more and he
+was eastward bound.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Many a letter came flying back to Hays. The daily mail was never
+without its missive for Grace, and even in separation some delight is
+found.
+
+“Two weeks now I have been back at the Point,” he wrote one May
+afternoon, “and never has the dear old spot looked so beautiful. It is
+hard to realize that these scenes, so familiar to you, so very familiar
+to me, have never been viewed together; that there ever has been a time
+in my life when I looked out upon that glorious reach up the river, and
+around upon the rocky heights, and knew not this now incessant longing
+to have you at my side. Time was when all my hope, ambition, pride,
+and pleasure were centred in the coming summer, with camp or furlough,
+when May with its verdure and sweet balmy breath was a foretaste of
+Paradise. _Now_, I wait with eager impatience for the coming again of
+autumn, for the keen frosts that will shiver leaf and flower and rob
+the landscape of all this vernal beauty. Welcome, November, with frost
+and fog and gale, for none can chill the light and glory of my life,
+for with them comes its crowning blessing, for with them, and despite
+them, I shall welcome you, my wife, my darling, my queen.”
+
+And Truscott had many letters, congratulatory, exclamatory, and
+otherwise satisfactory. This was from Ray:
+
+  “DEAR JACK,—News just reached me. Bad news travels fast, you know.
+  I’m cut up—cut out—and never was cut out for anything better. With
+  all my heart I congratulate you, and wish it was _me_. As I can’t
+  walk to singing-school with her myself, please may I sit on the fence
+  and watch out for you to go by? Anyhow, may the Fates deal you no
+  end of blessings, and me, two or three full hands for the wedding
+  present! There goes stable-call. _Toot à toi._
+
+                                                       “RAY.
+
+“See here, Jack, I may not have had a clear idea on the subject before,
+but isn’t this last capture of Miss Pelham’s a new thing in ‘_Winning
+his Spurs_’?”
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+                           —————————————————
+
+                     Transcriber’s Note (continued)
+
+Errors in punctuation and simple typos have been corrected without note.
+Archaic or variant spelling, inconsistent hyphenation, etc., has been
+left as it appears in the original publication unless as noted in the
+following:
+
+  Page 114 – “decalogue” changed to “Decalogue” (half the sins in
+              the Decalogue)
+
+  Page 187 – “’7” changed to “’71” (the old road to Prescott as it lay
+              in ’71)
+
+  Page 286 – “Eskiminziu” changed to “Eskiminzin” (Advices just received
+              from Stryker prove Eskiminzin)
+
+  Page 365 – “Arrapahoes” changed to “Arapahoes” (the Sioux, Cheyennes,
+              and Arapahoes)
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76813 ***