I.

A strange thing had happened at the old fort during the still watches of

the night. Even now, at nine in the morning, no one seemed to be in

possession of the exact circumstances. The officer of the day was

engaged in an investigation, and all that appeared to be generally known

was the bald statement that the sentry on "Number Five" had fired at

somebody or other about half after three; that he had fired by order of

the officer of the day, who was on his post at the time; and that now he

flatly refused to talk about the matter.

Garrison curiosity, it is perhaps needless to say, was rather stimulated

than lulled by this announcement. An unusual number of officers were

chatting about head-quarters when Colonel Maynard came over to his

office. Several ladies, too, who had hitherto shown but languid interest

in the morning music of the band, had taken the trouble to stroll down

to the old quadrangle, ostensibly to see guard-mounting. Mrs. Maynard

was almost always on her piazza at this time, and her lovely daughter

was almost sure to be at the gate with two or three young fellows

lounging about her. This morning, however, not a soul appeared in front

of the colonel's quarters.

Guard-mounting at the fort was not held until nine o'clock, contrary to

the somewhat general custom at other posts in our scattered army.

Colonel Maynard had ideas of his own upon the subject, and it was his

theory that everything worked more smoothly if he had finished a

leisurely breakfast before beginning office-work of any kind, and

neither the colonel nor his family cared to breakfast before eight

o'clock. In view of the fact that Mrs. Maynard had borne that name but a

very short time and that her knowledge of army life dated only from the

month of May, the garrison was disposed to consider her entitled to

much latitude of choice in such matters, even while it did say that she

was old enough to be above bride-like sentiment. The womenfolk at the

fort were of opinion that Mrs. Maynard was fifty. It must be conceded

that she was over forty, also that this was her second entry into the

bonds of matrimony.

That no one should now appear on the colonel's piazza was obviously a

disappointment to several people. In some way or other most of the

breakfast tables at the post had been enlivened by accounts of the

mysterious shooting. The soldiers going the rounds with the

"police-cart," the butcher and grocer and baker from town, the old

milkwoman with her glistening cans, had all served as newsmongers from

kitchen to kitchen, and the story that came in with the coffee to the

lady of the house had lost nothing in bulk or bravery. The groups of

officers chatting and smoking in front of head-quarters gained

accessions every moment, while the ladies seemed more absorbed in chat

and confidences than in the sweet music of the band.

What fairly exasperated some men was the fact that the old officer of

the day was not out on the parade where he belonged. Only the new

incumbent was standing there in statuesque pose as the band trooped

along the line, and the fact that the colonel had sent out word that the

ceremony would proceed without Captain Chester only served to add fuel

to the flame of popular conjecture. It was known that the colonel was

holding a consultation with closed doors with the old officer of the

day, and never before since he came to the regiment had the colonel been

known to look so pale and strange as when he glanced out for just one

moment and called his orderly. The soldier sprang up, saluted, received

his message, and, with every eye following him, sped off towards the old

stone guard-house. In three minutes he was on his way back, accompanied

by a corporal and private of the guard in full dress uniform.

"That's Leary,--the man who fired the shot," said Captain Wilton to his

senior lieutenant, who stood by his side.

"Belongs to B Company, doesn't he?" queried the subaltern. "Seems to me

I have heard Captain Armitage say he was one of his best men."

"Yes. He's been in the regiment as long as I can remember. What on earth

can the colonel want him for? Near as I can learn, he only fired by

Chester's order."

"And neither of them knows what he fired at."

It was perhaps ten minutes more before Private Leary came forth from

the door-way of the colonel's office, nodded to the corporal, and,

raising their white-gloved hands in salute to the group of officers, the

two men tossed their rifles to the right shoulder and strode back to the

guard.

Another moment, and the colonel himself opened his door and appeared in

the hall-way. He stopped abruptly, turned back and spoke a few words in

low tone, then hurried through the groups at the entrance, looking at no

man, avoiding their glances, and giving faint and impatient return to

the soldierly salutations that greeted him. The sweat was beaded on his

forehead; his lips were white, and his face full of a trouble and dismay

no man had ever seen there before. He spoke to no one, but walked

rapidly homeward, entered, and closed the gate and door behind him.

For a moment there was silence in the group. Few men in the service were

better loved and honored than the veteran soldier who commanded the

----th Infantry; and it was with genuine concern that his officers saw

him so deeply and painfully affected,--for affected he certainly was.

Never before had his cheery voice denied them a cordial "Good-morning,

gentlemen." Never before had his blue eyes flinched. He had been their

comrade and commander in years of frontier service, and his bachelor

home had been the rendezvous of all genial spirits when in garrison.

They had missed him sorely when he went abroad on long leave the

previous year, and were almost indignant when they received the news

that he had met his fate in Italy and would return married. "She" was

the widow of a wealthy New-Yorker who had been dead some three years

only, and, though over forty, did not look her years to masculine eyes

when she reached the fort in May. After knowing her a week, the garrison

had decided to a man that the colonel had done wisely. Mrs. Maynard was

charming, courteous, handsome, and accomplished. Only among the women

were there still a few who resented their colonel's capture; and some of

these, oblivious of the fact that they had tempted him with relations of

their own, were sententious and severe in their condemnation of second

marriage; for the colonel, too, was indulging in a second experiment. Of

his first, only one man in the regiment, besides the commander, could

tell anything; and he, to the just indignation of almost everybody,

would not discuss the subject. It was rumored that in the old days when

Maynard was senior captain and Chester junior subaltern in their former

regiment the two had very little in common. It was known that the first

Mrs. Maynard, while still young and beautiful, had died abroad. It was

hinted that the resignation of a dashing lieutenant of the regiment,

which was synchronous with her departure for foreign shores, was

demanded by his brother officers; but it was useless asking Captain

Chester. He could not tell; and--wasn't it odd?--here was Chester again,

the only man in the colonel's confidence in an hour of evident trouble.

"By Jove! what's gone wrong with the chief?" was the first exclamation

from one of the older officers. "I never saw him look so broken."

As no explanation suggested itself, they began edging in towards the

office. The door stood open; a hand-bell banged; a clerk darted in from

the sergeant-major's rooms, and Captain Chester was revealed seated at

the colonel's desk. This in itself was sufficient to induce several

officers to stroll in and look inquiringly around. Captain Chester,

merely nodding, went on with some writing at which he was engaged.

After a moment's awkward silence and uneasy glancing at one another, the

party seemed to arrive at the conclusion that it was time to speak. The

band had ceased, and the new guard had marched away behind its pealing

bugles. Lieutenant Hall winked at his comrades, strolled hesitatingly

over to the desk, balanced unsteadily on one leg, and, with his hands

sticking in his trousers-pockets and his forage-cap swinging from

protruding thumb and forefinger, cleared his throat, and, with marked

lack of confidence, accosted his absorbed superior:

"Colonel gone home?"

"Didn't you see him?" was the uncompromising reply; and the captain did

not deign to raise his head or eyes.

"Well--er--yes, I suppose I did," said Mr. Hall, shifting uncomfortably

to his other leg, and prodding the floor with the toe of his boot.

"Then that wasn't what you wanted to know, I presume," said Captain

Chester, signing his name with a vicious dab of the pen and bringing his

fist down with a thump on the blotting-pad, while he wheeled around in

his chair and looked squarely up into the perturbed features of the

junior.

"No, it wasn't," answered Mr. Hall, in an injured tone, while an

audible snicker at the door added to his sense of discomfort. "What I

mainly wanted was to know could I go to town."

"That matter is easily arranged, Mr. Hall. All you have to do is to get

out of that uncomfortable and unsoldierly position, stand in the

attitude in which you are certainly more at home and infinitely more

picturesque, proffer your request in respectful words, and there is no

question as to the result."

"Oh! you're in command, then?" said Mr. Hall, slowly wriggling into the

position of the soldier and flushing through his bronzed cheeks. "I

thought the colonel might be only gone for a minute."

"The colonel may not be back for a week; but you be here for

dress-parade all the same, and--Mr. Hall!" he called, as the young

officer was turning away. The latter faced about again.

"Was Mr. Jerrold going with you to town?"

"Yes, sir. He was to drive me in his dog-cart, and it's over here now."

"Mr. Jerrold cannot go,--at least not until I have seen him."

"Why, captain, he got the colonel's permission at breakfast this

morning."

"That is true, no doubt, Mr. Hall." And the captain dropped his sharp

and captious manner, and his voice fell, as though in sympathy with the

cloud that settled on his face. "I cannot explain matters just now.

There are reasons why the permission is withdrawn for the time being.

The adjutant will notify him." And Captain Chester turned to his desk

again as the new officer of the day, guard-book in hand, entered to make

his report.

"The usual orders, captain," said Chester, as he took the book from his

hand and looked over the list of prisoners. Then, in bold and rapid

strokes, he wrote across the page the customary certificate of the old

officer of the day, winding up with this remark:

"He also inspected guard and visited sentries between 3 and 3.35 a.m.

The firing at 3.30 a.m. was by his order."

Meantime, those officers who had entered and who had no immediate duty

to perform were standing or seated around the room, but all observing

profound silence. For a moment or two no sound was heard but the

scratching of the captain's pen. Then, with some embarrassment and

hesitancy, he laid it down and glanced around him.

"Has any one here anything to ask,--any business to transact?"

Two or three mentioned some routine matters that required the action of

the post-commander, but did so reluctantly, as though they preferred to

await the orders of the colonel himself. Captain Wilton, indeed, spoke

his sentiments:

"I wanted to see Colonel Maynard about getting two men of my company

relieved from extra duty; but, as he isn't here, I fancy I had better

wait."

"Not at all. Who are your men?--Have it done at once, Mr. Adjutant, and

supply their places from my company, if need be. Now is there anything

else?"

The group was apparently "nonplussed," as the adjutant afterwards put

it, by such unlooked-for complaisance on the part of the usually

crotchety senior captain. Still, no one offered to lead the others and

leave the room. After a moment's nervous rapping with his knuckles on

the desk, Captain Chester again abruptly spoke:

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to incommode you, but, if there be nothing more

that you desire to see me about, I shall go on with some other matters,

which--pardon me--do not require your presence."

At this very broad hint the party slowly found their legs, and with much

wonderment and not a few resentful glances at their temporary commander

the officers sauntered to the door-way. There, however, several stopped

again, still reluctant to leave in the face of so pervading a mystery,

for Wilton turned.

"Am I to understand that Colonel Maynard has left the post to be gone

any length of time?" he asked.

"He has not yet gone. I do not know how long he will be gone or how soon

he will start. For pressing personal reasons he has turned over the

command to me; and, if he decide to remain away, of course some

field-officer will be ordered to come to head-quarters. For a day or two

you will have to worry along with me; but I shan't worry you more than I

can help. I've got mystery and mischief enough here to keep me busy, God

knows. Just ask Sloat to come back here to me, will you? And--Wilton, I

did not mean to be abrupt with you. I'm all upset to-day. Mr. Adjutant,

notify Mr. Jerrold at once that he must not leave the post until I have

seen him. It is the colonel's last order. Tell him so."