Tuesday still, and all manner of things had happened and were still to
happen in the hurrying hours that followed Sunday night. The garrison
woke at Tuesday's reveille in much perturbation of spirit, as has been
said, but by eight o'clock and breakfast-time one cause of perplexity
was at an end. Relief had come with Monday afternoon and Alice Renwick's
letter saying she would not attend the german, and now still greater
relief in the news that sped from mouth to mouth: Lieutenant Jerrold was
in close arrest. Armitage and Chester had been again in consultation
Monday night, said the gossips, and something new had been
discovered,--no one knew just what,--and the toils had settled upon
Jerrold's handsome head, and now he was to be tried. As usual in such
cases, the news came in through the kitchen, and most officers heard it
at the breakfast-table from the lips of their better halves, who could
hardly find words to express their sentiments as to the inability of
their lords to explain the new phase of the situation. When the first
sergeant of Company B came around to Captain Armitage with the
sick-book, soon after six in the morning, the captain briefly directed
him to transfer Lieutenant Jerrold on the morning report from present
for duty to "in arrest," and no sooner was it known at the quarters of
Company B than it began to work back to Officers' Row through the medium
of the servants and strikers.
It was the sole topic of talk for a full hour. Many ladies who had
intended going to town by the early train almost perilled their chances
of catching the same in their eagerness to hear further details.
But the shriek of the whistle far up the valley broke up the group that
was so busily chatting and speculating over in the quadrangle, and, with
shy yet curious eyes, the party of at least a dozen--matrons and maids,
wives or sisters of the officers--scurried past the darkened windows of
Mr. Jerrold's quarters, and through the mysterious passage west of the
colonel's silent house, and down the long stairs, just in time to catch
the train that whirled them away city-ward almost as soon as it had
disgorged the morning's mail. Chatting and laughing, and full of blithe
anticipation of the glories of the coming german, in preparation for
which most of their number had found it necessary to run in for just an
hour's shopping, they went jubilantly on their way. Shopping done, they
would all meet, take luncheon together at the "Woman's Exchange," return
to the post by the afternoon train, and have plenty of time for a little
nap before dressing for the german. Perhaps the most interesting
question now up for discussion was, who would lead with Mr. Rollins? The
train went puffing into the crowded dépôt: the ladies hastened forth,
and in a moment were on the street; cabs and carriages were passed in
disdain; a brisk walk of a block carried them to the main thoroughfare
and into the heart of the shopping district; a rush of hoofs and wheels
and pedestrians there encountered them, and the roar assailed their
sensitive and unaccustomed ears, yet high above it all pierced and
pealed the shrill voices of the newsboys darting here and there with
their eagerly-bought journals. But women bent on germans and shopping
have time and ears for no such news as that which demands the
publication of extras. Some of them never hear or heed the cry, "Indian
Massacree!" "Here y'are! All about the killin' of Major Thornton an' his
sojers!" "Extry!--extry!" It is not until they reach the broad portals
of the great Stewart of the West that one of their number, half
incredulously, buys a copy and reads aloud: "Major Thornton, ----th
Infantry, Captain Langham and Lieutenant Bliss, ----th Cavalry, and
thirty men, are killed. Captains Wright and Lane and Lieutenants Willard
and Brooks, ----th Cavalry, and some forty more men, are seriously
wounded. The rest of the command is corralled by an overwhelming force
of Indians, and their only hope is to hold out until help can reach
them. All troops along the line of the Union Pacific are already under
orders."
"Oh, isn't it dreadful?"
"Yes; but aren't you glad it wasn't Ours? Oh, look! there's Nina
Beaubien over there in her carriage. _Do_ let's find out if she's going
to lead with Rollins!"
_Væ victis_! Far out in the glorious Park country in the heart of the
Centennial State a little band of blue-coats, sent to succor a perilled
agent, is making desperate stand against fearful odds. Less than two
hundred men has the wisdom of the Department sent forth through the
wilderness to find and, if need be, fight its way through five times its
weight in well-armed foes. The officers and men have no special quarrel
with those Indians, nor the Indians with them. Only two winters before,
when those same Indians were sick and starving, and their lying
go-betweens, the Bureau-employees, would give them neither food nor
justice, a small band made their way to the railway and were fed on
soldier food and their wrongs righted by soldier justice. But another
snarl has come now, and this time the Bureau-people are in a pickle, and
the army--ever between two fires at least, and thankful when it isn't
six--is ordered to send a little force and go out there and help the
agent maintain his authority. The very night before the column reaches
the borders of the reservation the leading chiefs come in camp to
interview the officers, shake hands, beg tobacco, and try on their
clothes, then go back to their braves and laugh as they tell there are
only a handful, and plan the morrow's ambuscade and massacre. _Væ
victis_! There are women and children among the garrisons along the
Union Pacific whose hearts have little room for thoughts of germans in
the horror of this morning's tidings. But Sibley is miles and miles
away, and, as Mrs. Wheeler says, aren't you glad it wasn't Ours?
Out at the fort there is a different scene. The morning journals and the
clicking telegraph send a thrill throughout the whole command. The train
has barely whistled out of sight when the ringing notes of officers'
call resound through the quadrangle and out over the broader
drill-ground beyond. Wondering, but prompt, the staid captains and eager
subalterns come hurrying to head-quarters, and the band, that had come
forth and taken its station on the parade, all ready for guard-mount,
goes quickly back, while the men gather in big squads along the shaded
row of their quarters and watch the rapid assembly at the office. And
there old Chester, with kindling eyes, reads to the silent company the
brief official order. Ay, though it be miles and miles away, fast as
steam and wheel can take it, the good old regiment in all its sturdy
strength goes forth to join the rescue of the imprisoned comrades far in
the Colorado Rockies. "Have your entire command in readiness for
immediate field-service in the Department of the Platte. Special train
will be there to take you by noon at latest." And though many a man has
lost friend and comrade in the tragedy that calls them forth, and though
many a brow clouds for the moment with the bitter news of such useless
sacrifice, every eye brightens, every muscle seems to brace, every nerve
and pulse to throb and thrill with the glorious excitement of quick
assembly and coming action. Ay, we are miles and miles away; we leave
the dear old post, with homes and firesides, wives, children, and
sweethearts, all to the care of the few whom sickness or old wounds or
advancing years render unfit for hard, sharp marching; and, thank God!
we'll be there to take a hand and help those gallant fellows out of
their "corral" or to have one good blow at the cowardly hounds who lured
and lied to them.
How the "assembly" rings on the morning air! How quick they spring to
ranks, those eager bearded faces and trim blue-clad forms! How buoyant
and brisk even the elders seem as the captains speed over to their
company quarters and the quick, stirring orders are given! "Field kits;
all the cooked rations you have on hand; overcoat, blanket, extra socks
and underclothes; every cartridge you've got; haversack and canteen, and
nothing else. Now get ready,--lively!" How irrepressible is the cheer
that goes up! How we pity the swells of the light battery who have to
stay! How wistful those fellows look, and how eagerly they throng about
the barracks, yearning to go, and, since that is denied, praying to be
of use in some way! Small wonder is it that all the bustle and
excitement penetrates the portals of Mr. Jerrold's darkened quarters,
and the shutters are thrown open and his bandaged head comes forth.
"What is it, Harris?" he demands of a light-batteryman who is hurrying
past.
"Orders for Colorado, sir. The regiment goes by special train. Major
Thornton's command's been massacred, and there's a big fight ahead."
"My God! Here!--stop one moment. Run over to Company B and see if you
can find my servant, or Merrick, or somebody. If not, you come back
quick. I want to send a note to Captain Armitage."
"I can take it, sir. We're not going. The band and the battery have to
stay."
And Jerrold, with trembling hand and feverish haste, seats himself at
the same desk whence on that fatal morning he sent the note that wrought
such disaster; and as he rises and hands his missive forth, throwing
wide open the shutters as he does so, his bedroom doors fly open, and a
whirling gust of the morning wind sweeps through from rear to front, and
half a score of bills and billets, letters and scraps of paper, go
ballooning out upon the parade.
"By heaven!" he mutters, "that's how it happened, is it? _Look_ at them
go!" for going they were, in spiral eddies or fluttering skips, up the
grassy "quad," and over among the rose-bushes of Alice Renwick's garden.
Over on the other side of the narrow, old-fashioned frontier fort the
men were bustling about, and their exultant, eager voices rang out on
the morning air. All was life and animation, and even in Jerrold's
selfish soul there rose responsive echo to the soldierly spirit that
seemed to pervade the whole command. It was their first summons to
active field-duty with prospective battle since he had joined, and, with
all his shortcomings as a "duty" officer in garrison and his many
frailties of character, Jerrold was not the man to lurk in the rear when
there was danger ahead. It dawned on him with sudden and crushing force
that now it lay in the power of his enemies to do him vital
injury,--that he could be held here at the post like a suspected felon,
a mark for every finger, a target for every tongue, while every other
officer of his regiment was hurrying with his men to take his knightly
share in the coming onset. It was intolerable, shameful. He paced the
floor of his little parlor in nervous misery, ever and anon gazing from
the window for sight of his captain. It was to him he had written,
urging that he be permitted a few moments' talk. "This is no time for a
personal misunderstanding," he wrote. "I must see you at once. I can
clear away the doubts, can explain my action; but, for heaven's sake,
intercede for me with Captain Chester that I may go with the command."
As luck would have it, Armitage was with Chester at the office when the
letter was handed in. He opened it, gave a whistle of surprise, and
simply held it forth to the temporary commander.
"Read that," he said.
Chester frowned, but took the note and looked it curiously over.
"I have no patience with the man now," he said. "Of course after what I
saw last night I begin to understand the nature of his defence; but we
don't want any such man in the regiment, after this. What's the use of
taking him with us?"
"That isn't the point," said Armitage. "Now or never, possibly, is the
time to clear up this mystery. Of course Maynard will be up to join us
by the first train; and what won't it be worth to him to have positive
proof that all his fears were unfounded?"
"Even if it wasn't Jerrold, there is still the fact that I saw a man
clambering out of her window. How is that to be cleared up?" said
Chester, gloomily.
"That may come later, and won't be such a bugbear as you think. If you
were not worried into a morbid condition over all this trouble, you
would not look so seriously upon a thing which I regard as a piece of
mere night prowling, with a possible spice of romance."
"What romance, I'd like to know?"
"Never mind that now: I'm playing detective for the time being. Let me
see Jerrold for you and find out what he has to offer. Then you can
decide. Are you willing? All right! But remember this while I think of
it. You admit that the light you saw on the wall Sunday night was
exactly like that which you saw the night of your adventure, and that
the shadows were thrown in the same way. You thought that night that the
light was turned up and afterwards turned out in her room, and that it
was _her_ figure you saw at the window. Didn't you?"
"Yes. What then?"
"Well, I believe her statement that she saw and heard nothing until
reveille. I believe it was Mrs. Maynard who did the whole thing, without
Miss Renwick's knowing anything about it."
"Why?"
"Because I accomplished the feat with the aid of the little night-lamp
that I found by the colonel's bedside. It is my theory that Mrs. Maynard
was restless after the colonel finally fell asleep, that she heard your
tumble, and took her little lamp, crossed over into Miss Renwick's
room, opened the door without creaking, as I can do to your
satisfaction, found her sleeping quietly, but the room a trifle close
and warm, set her night-lamp down on the table, as I did, threw her
shadow on the wall, as I did, and opened the shade, as you thought her
daughter did. Then she withdrew, and left those doors open,--both hers
and her daughter's,--and the light, instead of being turned down, as you
thought, was simply carried back into her own room."
"That is all possible. But how about the man in her room? Nothing was
stolen, though money and jewelry were lying around loose. If theft was
not the object, what was?"
"Theft certainly was not, and I'm not prepared to say what was, but I
have reason to believe it wasn't Miss Renwick."
"Anything to prove it?"
"Yes; and, though time is precious and I cannot show you, you may take
my word for it. We must be off at noon, and both of us have much to do,
but there may be no other chance to talk, and before you leave this post
I want you to realize her utter innocence."
"I want to, Armitage."
"I know you do: so look here. We assume that the same man paid the night
visit both here and at Sablon, and that he wanted to see the same
person,--if he did not come to steal: do we not?"
"Yes."
"We know that at Sablon it was Mrs. Maynard he sought and called. The
colonel says so."
"Yes."
"Presumably, then, it was she--not her daughter--he had some reasons for
wanting to see here at Sibley. What is more, if he wanted to see Miss
Renwick there was nothing to prevent his going right into her window?"
"Nothing."
"Well, I believe I can prove he didn't; on the contrary, that he went
around by the roof of the porch to the colonel's room and tried there,
but found it risky on account of the blinds, and that finally he entered
the hall window,--what might be called neutral ground. The painters had
been at work there, as you said, two days before, and the paint on the
slats was not quite dry. The blinds and sills were the only things they
had touched up on that front, it seems, and nothing on the sides. Now,
on the fresh paint of the colonel's slats are the new imprints of
masculine thumb and fingers, and on the sill of the hall window is a
footprint that I know to be other than Jerrold's."
"Why?"
"Because he doesn't own such a thing as this track was made with, and I
don't know a man in this command who does. It was the handiwork of the
Tonto Apaches, and came from the other side of the continent."
"You mean it was--?"
"Exactly. An Indian moccasin."
Meantime, Mr. Jerrold had been making hurried preparations, as he had
fully determined that at any cost he would go with the regiment. He had
been burning a number of letters, when Captain Armitage knocked and
hurriedly entered. Jerrold pushed forward a chair and plunged at once
into the matter at issue:
"There is no time to waste, captain. I have sent to you to ask what I
can do to be released from arrest and permitted to go with the command."
"Answer the questions I put to you the other night, and certify to your
answers; and of course you'll have to apologize to Captain Chester for
your last night's language."
"That of course; though you will admit it looked like spying. Now let me
ask you, did he tell you who the lady was?"
"No. I told him."
"How did you know?"
"By intuition, and my knowledge of previous circumstances."
"We have no time to discuss it. I make no attempt to conceal it now; but
I ask that, on your honor, neither you nor he reveal it."
"And continue to let the garrison believe that you were in Miss
Renwick's room that ghastly night?" asked Armitage, dryly.
Jerrold flushed: "I have denied that, and I would have proved my _alibi_
could I have done so without betraying a woman's secret. Must I tell?"
"So far as I am concerned, Mr. Jerrold," said Armitage, with cold and
relentless meaning, "you not only must tell--you must _prove_--both that
night's doings and Saturday night's,--both that and how you obtained
that photograph."
"My God! In one case it is a woman's name; in the other I have promised
on honor not to reveal it."
"That ends it, then. You remain here in close arrest, and the charges
against you will be pushed to the bitter end. I will write them this
very hour."