This was at half-past ten o’clock. At two o’clock a jaded and blown
horse stood before the door of the barracks at Archangel’s Rise. Its
rider, muffled to the chin, was knocking, and at the same time pulling
his cap down closely over his head. “Thank God the night is dusky,” he
said. We have heard that voice before. The hat and cloak are those of
Sergeant Tom, but the voice is that of Jen Galbraith. There is some
danger in this act; danger for her lover, contempt for herself if she
is discovered. Presently the door opens and a corporal appears. “Who’s
there? Oh,” he added, as he caught sight of the familiar uniform; “where
from?”
“From Fort Desire. Important orders to Inspector Jules. Require fresh
horse to return with; must leave mine here. Have to go back at once.”
“I say,” said the corporal, taking the papers--“what’s your name?”
“Gellatly--Sergeant Gellatly.”
“Say, Sergeant Gellatly, this isn’t accordin’ to Hoyle--come in the
night and go in the night and not stay long enough to have a swear at
the Gover’ment. Why, you’re comin’ in, aren’t you? You’re comin’ across
the door-mat for a cup of coffee and a warm while the horse is gettin’
ready, aren’t you, Sergeant--Sergeant Gellatly, Sergeant Gellatly? I’ve
heard of you, but--yes; I will hurry. Here, Waugh, this to Inspector
Jules! If you won’t step in and won’t drink and will be unsociable,
sergeant, why, come on and you shall have a horse as good as the one
you’ve brought. I’m Corporal Galna.”
Jen led the exhausted horse to the stables. Fortunately there was no
lantern used, and therefore little chance for the garrulous corporal to
study the face of his companion, even if he wished to do so. The
risk was considerable; but Jen Galbraith was fired by that spirit
of self-sacrifice which has held a world rocking to destruction on a
balancing point of safety.
The horse was quickly saddled, Jen meanwhile remaining silent. While she
was mounting, Corporal Galna drew and struck a match to light his
pipe. He held it up for a moment as though to see the face of Sergeant
Gellatly. Jen had just given a good-night, and the horse the word and a
touch of the spur at the instant. Her face, that is, such of it as could
be seen above the cloak and under the cap, was full in the light.
Enough was seen, however, to call forth, in addition to Corporal Galna’s
good-night, the exclamation, “Well, I’m blowed!”
As Jen vanished into the night a moment after, she heard a voice
calling--not Corporal Galna’s--“Sergeant Gellatly, Sergeant Gellatly!”
She supposed it was Inspector Jules, but she would not turn back now.
Her work was done.
A half-hour later Corporal Galna confided to Private Waugh that Sergeant
Gellatly was too damned pretty for the force--wondered if they called
him Beauty at Fort Desire--couldn’t call him Pretty Gellatly, for there
was Pretty Pierre who had right of possession to that title--would like
to ask him what soap he used for his complexion--‘twasn’t this yellow
bar-soap of the barracks, which wouldn’t lather, he’d bet his ultimate
dollar.
Waugh, who had sometime seen Sergeant Gellatly, entered into a
disputation on the point. He said that “Sergeant Tom was good-looking,
a regular Irish thoroughbred; but he wasn’t pretty, not much!--guessed
Corporal Galna had nightmare, and finally, as the interest in the theme
increased in fervour, announced that Sergeant Tom could loosen the teeth
of, and knock the spots off, any man among the Riders, from Archangel’s
Rise to the Cypress Hills. Pretty--not much--thoroughbred all over!”
And Corporal Galna replied, sarcastically,--“That he might be able for
spot dispersion of such a kind, but he had two as pretty spots on his
cheek, and as white and touch-no-tobacco teeth as any female ever had.”
Private Waugh declared then that Corporal Galna would be saying Sergeant
Gellatly wasn’t a man at all, and wore earrings, and put his hair
into papers; and when he could find no further enlargement of sarcasm,
consigned the Corporal to a fiery place of future torment reserved for
lunatics.
At this critical juncture Waugh was ordered to proceed to Inspector
Jules. A few minutes after, he was riding away toward Soldier’s Knee,
with the Inspector and another private, to capture Val Galbraith, the
slayer of Snow Devil, while four other troopers also started off in
different directions.