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diff --git a/76813-0.txt b/76813-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1531575 --- /dev/null +++ b/76813-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12514 @@ + +*** 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 *** |