Another day Dean and Troop "C" were held in camp awaiting orders for
special service, and no orders came. "Old Pecksniff" had an eye for
pretty girls, a trait by no means rare in soldiers old or young, and
prettier girls than Pappoose and Jessie he had never met. Mrs. Stevens
was accordingly bidden to invite them to luncheon that very day, and
Dean and Loomis were of the party, as were other young people of the
post, and, despite the rising war clouds in the north and the recent
unpleasantness at Emory and an odd manner indicative of suppressed
excitement on part of both Dean and Loomis, a very joyous time they had
until the damsels Had to drive home to dress for dinner. Folsom had
named six as the hour. Burleigh, Newhall and the two boys were mentioned
as his guests. Burleigh accepted for self and partner, Loomis for
himself, with mental reservation. Dean at once had begged to be excused.
After the morning's disappearance of Burleigh and "Surly," as Miss
Folsom promptly named the pair, Marshall had ridden into Gate City at
the side of the Folsom carriage, and was welcomed by the old trader
himself, who looked pained when told he could not attend the dinner.
"Surely Colonel Stevens will let you off," said Folsom, but that
obviously was not the reason.
"I'm the only officer with my troop," said Dean, "and so cannot ask."
But when Folsom took his daughter in his arms a little later and
inquired whether there were not some graver cause behind the one
assigned, Elinor calmly answered that she thought there was, and that
the cause was Major Burleigh.
"But, daughter dear," said he, "that's just one reason I wish to bring
them together. Then Dean could see how pleasantly disposed the major
is," and he was amazed when she replied:
"Major Burleigh may be pleasantly disposed, but Mr. Dean is not, by any
means, nor would I be were I in his place, papa."
"My child," said he, "what do you know about it?"
"Everything that Jessie knows, besides what we heard on the train.
Mar--Mr. Dean told her of several things Major Burleigh had said and
done to his discredit, and no wonder he declines to dine with a man who
has deliberately maligned him."
"I wish I had thought of that," said Folsom, his knotty hands deep in
the pockets of his loose-fitting trousers. "I saw Burleigh this morning
on some business, and he seemed to want to help Dean along. What took
him out to the fort, do you suppose?"
"I don't know," she answered gravely. "He had Captain Newhall with him,
in quest of somebody who wasn't there."
"Ah, yes, Griggs, the sutler. I heard of it," interposed Folsom,
fingering his watchchain.
"Very possibly. The captain was ugly and rude in manner and Major
Burleigh very much embarrassed. Indeed, Daddy dear, I should not be
greatly surprised if others of your party failed to come."
"Burleigh, do you mean, or his queer guest?"
But Pappoose did not reply. She seemed listening intently, and then with
swift, sudden movement darted across to the heavy Navajo blanket
portiere that hung at the doorway of a little room back of the library.
Her voice was far from cordial as she asked:
"Were you looking for any one, Mrs. Fletcher? I thought you were in your
room."
"For Mr. Folsom, please, when he is at leisure," was the answer, in
unruffled tones. "I believe it easier to take active part in the
preparations than to lie there thinking."
At one the girls were to lunch at the fort, as has been said, and it was
time for them to dress. There were other matters on which Elinor much
wished to talk with her father and, with more reluctance than she had
yet experienced, she left him to hear what Mrs. Fletcher might have to
say. The conference was brief enough, whatever its nature, for presently
his voice was heard at the foot of the stairs.
"I'm going over to the depot a few minutes, Daught. I wish to see
Burleigh. Don't wait for me. Start whenever you are ready. Where do the
boys meet you?"
"Here, Daddy, at half-past twelve."
It was high noon now, and the ruddy-faced old fellow grew redder as the
summer sun beat down on his gray head, but he strode sturdily down the
broad avenue that led to the heart of the bustling new town, turned to
the right at the first cross street beyond his own big block, and ten
minutes' brisk tramp brought him to the gateway of Burleigh's stockaded
inclosure. Two or three employees lounging about the gate were gazing
curiously within. Silently they let him pass them by, but a sound of
angry voices rose upon the heated air. Just within the gate stood the
orderly trumpeter holding two horses by the reins, one of them Marshall
Dean's, and a sudden idea occurred to Folsom as he glanced at the open
windows of the office building. There was no mistaking the speaker
within. It was Burleigh.
"Leave my office instantly, sir, or I'll prefer charges that will
stick----"
"Not till I've said what I came to say, Major Burleigh. I've abundant
evidence of what you've been saying at my expense. You asserted that I
lost my nerve the day we met Red Cloud's band--you who never dared get
out of the ambulance until the danger was over. It's common talk in the
troop. At Frayne, at Reno, and here at Emory you have maligned me just
as you did in the cars to my friend here, Mr. Loomis, and in hearing of
my sister. I will not accept your denial nor will I leave your office
till you swallow your words."
"Then, by God, I'll have you thrown out, you young whipsnapper!"
And then Folsom, with fear at his heart, ran around to the doorway to
interpose. He came too late. There was a sound of a furious scuffle
within, a rattling of chairs, a crunching of feet on sanded floor, and
as he sprang up the steps he saw Dean easily squirming out from the
grasp of some member of the clerical force, who, at his master's
bidding, had thrown himself upon the young officer, who then deftly
tripped his heels from under him and dropped him on the floor, while
Loomis confronted the others who would have made some show of obeying
orders. And then there was the whirr of a whip-lash, a crack and snap
and swish, and a red welt shot across Burleigh's livid face as he
himself staggered back to his desk. With raging tongue and frantic oath
he leaped out again, a leveled pistol in his hand, but even before he
could pull trigger, or Folsom interpose, Loomis's stick came down like a
flash on the outstretched wrist, and the pistol clattered to the floor.
"Good God, boys! what are you doing?" cried the trader, as he hurled
himself between them. "Stop this instantly. Sit down, Burleigh. Come
out, Dean--come out at once! And you, too, Loomis."
"I'm entirely ready--now," said the cavalry lieutenant, though his eyes
were flaming and his lips were rigid. "But whenever Major Burleigh wants
to finish this he can find me," and with these words he backed slowly to
the door, face to the panting and disordered foe.
"Finish this! you young hound, I'll finish you!" screamed Burleigh, as
he shook his clinched fist at the retiring pair.
"Go, boys, go!" implored Folsom. "I'll see you by and by. No--no--sit
still, Burleigh. Don't you speak. This must stop right here."
And so the old man's counsels prevailed, and the two friends, with
grave, pallid, but determined faces, came out into the sunshine, and
with much deliberation and somewhat ostentatious calm proceeded to where
the orderly waited with the horses.
"You will see--the ladies out to camp, Loomis?" asked Dean. "I must
gallop on ahead."
"Ay, ay, go on, I reckon----"
But on this scene there suddenly appeared a third party, in the partial
guise of an officer and the grip of Bacchus. Lurching down the office
steps, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, came Captain Newhall.
"Gen'l'm'n," said he thickly, "le'm 'ntroduce m'self. Haven't th' honor
y'r 'quain's. I'm Ca'm New(hic)'ll. Cap'n N-n-(hic)oohaul (this cost
prodigious effort and much balancing), an'--an' you sherv'd that f'ler
per-per-flicky ri'. He's dam scoun'rl--gen'lemen--an' ole frien' mine."
For an instant he stood swaying unsteadily, with half-extended hand. For
an instant the two young officers gazed at him in contempt, then turned
abruptly away.
"Good Lord, Marshall," said Loomis, as they cleared the gate, "if that's
the only approbation this day's work will bring us what will the results
be? You served him right, no doubt, but--" and an ominous shake of the
head wound up the sentence.
"But or no but," said Dean, "it's done now, and I'd do it again."
There was no dinner party at Folsom's that evening. At two a messenger
trotted out to the post with a note for Miss Folsom to apprise her of
the fact, and without a word or change of color she put it into her
pocket. The garrison girls were bent on having them spend the afternoon,
but presently Miss Folsom found a moment in which to signal to Jess, and
at three they were driving home.
"You will surely come out this evening and hear the music and have a
dance," were the parting salutations, as with skillful hands the young
girl took up the reins.
"We hope to," was her smiling answer. Jess was clinging to her brother's
hand as he stood by the wheel, and Loomis had already clambered in
beside her.
"Please come, Marshall," pleaded Jessie; but he shook his head.
"I must be at camp this evening, sister mine. We go to stables in an
hour. You will come back, Loomis?"
"As soon as I've seen--" and a significant nod supplied the ellipsis.
Something ominous was in the wind and both girls knew it. Loomis,
usually gay and chatty, was oddly silent, as the light, covered wagon
sped swiftly homeward. Beside the fair charioteer sat a young officer of
the infantry who, vastly rejoicing that Dean could not go, had
laughingly possessed himself of the vacant place, and to him Miss Folsom
had to talk. But they parted from their escorts at the gate and hastened
within doors. Just as Elinor expected, papa had not come home. It was
nearly six when she saw him striding slowly and thoughtfully up the
road, and she met him at the gate.
"Tell me what has happened, Daddy," was her quiet greeting, as she
linked her hands over his burly arm, and looking into her uplifted,
thoughtful eyes, so full of intelligence and deep affection, he bent and
kissed her cheek.
"By Jove, daughter, I believe it's the best thing I can do. Come into
the library."
That night the moon beamed brightly down on the wide-spreading valley,
glinting on the peaks, still snow-tipped, far in the southern sky, and
softening the rugged faces of the nearer range, black with their
clustering beard of spruce and pine. The band played sweetly on the
broad parade until after the tattoo drums had echoed over the plains and
the garrison belles strolled aimlessly in the elfin light--all nature so
lavishly inviting, yet so little valued now that nearly every man was
gone. Out in the camp of "C" Troop men were flitting swiftly to and fro,
horses were starting and stamping at the picket ropes, eager eyes and
tilted ears inquiring the cause of all this stir and bustle among the
tents. In front of the canvas home of the young commander a grave-faced
group had gathered, two gentle girls among them, one with tear-dimmed
eyes. Old Folsom stood apart in murmured conference with Griggs, the
sutler. The regimental quartermaster was deep in consultation with Dean,
the two officers pacing slowly up and down. One or two young people from
the garrison had spent a few minutes earlier in the evening striving to
be interesting to the girls; but Jessie's tearful eyes and Miss Folsom's
grave manner proved hint sufficient to induce them to withdraw, each
bidding Dean good night, safe journey and speedy return, and the
hand-clasps were kind and cordial. The colonel himself had paid a brief
visit to camp, his adjutant in attendance, and had given Mr. Dean ten
minutes of talk concerning a country Dean knew all about, but that
"Pecksniff" had never seen. "It is a responsibility I own I should have
expected to see placed on older shoulders," said he, "but prudence
and--and, let me suggest, cool-headedness--will probably carry you
through. You will be ready to start----"
"Ready now, sir, so far as that's concerned; but we start at three."
"Oh, ah--yes, of course--well--ah--it leaves me practically with no
command, but I'll hope to have you back, Mr. Dean. Good-by." Then as he
passed Folsom the colonel whispered: "That's ten thousand dollars as
good as thrown away."
"Ten thousand dollars!" answered the trader in reply. "What do you
mean?"
"That's what those boys are to run the gauntlet with. My--ah--protests
are entirely unavailing."
For a moment Folsom stood there dumb. "Do you mean," he finally cried,
"that--that it's beyond Frayne that they're going--that it's money
they're to take?"
"Hush! Certainly, but it mustn't be known. Every road agent in Wyoming
would be out, and every Indian from the Platte to Hudson's Bay would be
on the watch. He's to take ten men and slip through. The money comes out
from Burleigh to-night."
The colonel turned away, and, beckoning to his staff officer to join us,
stumped onward to the garrison. The prolonged wail of the bugle, aided
by the rising night wind, sent the solemn strains of taps sailing down
the dimly-lighted valley, and with staring eyes old Folsom stood gazing
after the departing officers, then whirled about toward the tents. There
in front of Dean stood Pappoose, her hands clasped lightly over the hilt
of the saber the "striker" had leaned against the lid of the mess chest
but a moment before, her lovely face smiling up into the owner's.
"You'll come back by way of Hal's, won't you?" she was blithely saying.
"Perhaps I can coax father to take us there to meet you."
"By heaven, Burleigh," muttered the old trader to himself, "are you the
deepest man I ever met, or only the most infernal scoundrel?"