A SERENADE.
"News from Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Mrs. Stannard, as she came in all smiles
and sunshine the morning after the Fourth. "Just think of it, Captain
Truscott! the major says they were all wondering when they could hope to
get letters from home, when who should come trotting into camp but Ray
with a bagful. He found a couple of men at Laramie who had been left
behind when the regiment went through, and the three of them slipped off
together, and by riding all night managed to escape the Indians. Did you
ever know such a reckless fellow?"
Truscott shook his head. "I wish Ray _would_ be more prudent. If there
were any occasion for such a risk 'twould be a different thing----"
"But there _was_" said Mrs. Stannard, promptly. "The commanding officer
at Laramie had received important orders for the --th by telegraph, and
he didn't know how to get them through. No scouts or runners were in.
Ray got there the evening before, and the moment he heard of it he went
right to the colonel and begged to be allowed to go. It seems that
trouble is expected at the agency," she continued. "The major sends just
a few lines to say they expect to leave the Cheyenne valley and go right
in there. The pickets have chased Indians coming from the
northwest,--runners from Sitting Bull, they say,--and the officers do
not like the looks of things."
Truscott's face was very grave but his manner was unchanged. Mrs. Grace
and her friend had risen from the breakfast-table to welcome their
ex-hostess and valued neighbor, and the three ladies looked as though
news from the front brought far more of anxiety than comfort. Before
anything further was said there came a light tap at the door, and Mrs.
Turner fluttered in, bewitchingly pretty in her white muslin, with
bright-colored ribbons. There were ill-natured people who observed at
times of Mrs. Turner that she took far more pains with her dress when
the captain was away on campaign and "the doughboys" were running the
garrison, than she did when her liege lord was at home. Of this we
cannot speak advisedly. Certain it is that on this particularly bright,
glorious sunshiny morning of the fifth of July in the Centennial year,
Mrs. Turner was most becomingly attired.
"I wouldn't have intruded at so unconventional an hour only I saw Mrs.
Stannard come running in; I knew she had a letter, and so had I. Isn't
it horrid? Captain Turner says it looks as though they might be out all
summer! Oh, Miss Sanford! I'm so glad you are dressed and ready, for the
ambulance is coming around now, and I _know_ you and Mrs. Truscott want
to go in this morning and see Mrs. Wing's new goods. She opened
yesterday, you know, and Mrs. Wilkins says all the bonnets are fresh
from New York and lovely. You _will_ go, won't you? Come just as you
are. You'll only need a light wrap, for the sun is very warm."
Why is it that when one woman knows herself to be tastefully and
becomingly dressed, she is so eager to assure others who are to
accompany her that they need nothing by way of adornment? The ambulance
_was_ at the door. The visit to town had been contemplated for two or
three days, so matters were quickly arranged. There was abundant room,
and Mrs. Stannard decided to go too.
In a few minutes half a dozen ladies in their airy summer costumes were
gathered around the Concord wagon, ordinarily referred to as "the
ambulance." Mr. Gleason was promptly on hand with other officers to
assist; the band was just marching away towards its quarters, when Miss
Sanford's quick eye was attracted by the sight of some evident commotion
at the adjutant's office at the west end; one soldier was running at
full speed in pursuit of the old and new officers of the day, who were
descending the slope to the creek valley, another soldier--the
commanding officer's orderly--came running down the road towards the
party.
She was already seated, as were most of the others. Mrs. Turner sprang
lightly in, and coquettishly kissed her hand to the group of officers on
the walk.
"Go on, driver," she said.
"One moment, Mrs. Turner; please wait. I think something is the matter.
Look!"
And Miss Sanford pointed to the running men. All eyes were instantly
fixed on the orderly. He came up, wellnigh breathless.
"Captain Truscott! gentlemen! The commanding officer's compliments, and
desires to see all the officers at once."
The group started at the instant. Truscott turned and held out his hands
to his wife.
With the quick intuition of a woman accustomed to "war's alarms," she
felt that evil tidings had come, and was already starting to leave the
carriage.
"Oh! what can it be?" almost wailed Mrs. Turner. "Do you know, orderly?"
"It's been a big battle, ma'am, and they say General Custer and lots of
officers is killed."
Truscott swung his wife from the wagon, and almost lifted her to the
piazza. Miss Sanford, white and silent, sprang out unaided and ran to
her side. Mrs. Stannard, with an awful dread in her kind blue eyes, took
Truscott's hand as he returned and assisted her to alight.
"Will you stay with Grace?" he whispered. "I will go at once to the
office. Come, Mrs. Turner."
But Mrs. Turner hung back irresolute. "Perhaps it isn't true at all,
captain, and this may be the only time we can have the ambulance for a
week."
For answer he silently took her at the waist in his powerful hands, set
her speechless with astonishment on the sidewalk, sprang in, and spoke
sharply to the driver,--
"Whirl round. Get there to the office quick as you can."
And the lashed mules went at a gallop.
Entering the office with the customary knock at the open door, Truscott
stood first in the presence of the post commander and his adjutant.
"For God's sake read that!" said the colonel, holding up to him some
three or four sheets of telegraphic despatch paper. The other officers
came hurrying in.
"Read it aloud, Truscott."
And so to the group of speechless officers and to the knot of soldiers
who had gathered in the hall the dread news of the battle of the Little
Horn was told at Russell. Custer and his five pet companies completely
"wiped out," said the staff-officer, who sent the news flashing around
to the military posts in the department. Three hundred and twenty-five
soldiers swept out of existence only an easy day's gallop in front of
the Gray Fox's pickets, and it had taken all this time--ten days--to get
the news into civilization. There was no sign of a smile the rest of
that long day at Russell. The gloom of death had settled down on the
post. The ladies were seen no more. The doctor was sent for in more than
one instance. Mrs. Truscott was reported very ill.
But if garrison after garrison was thrown into dismay all over the
frontier by the sudden news, who can picture the scene at Lincoln, when
at dawn of that dreadful day a sergeant came over from the boat at
Bismarck to arouse the people at the hospital and to break the blow to
the widows and orphans? Reveille had not sounded when the commanding
officer, the adjutant, and a surgeon started on the gloomy round of the
cavalry garrison. Yesterday we saw those fair, smiling women bravely
striving to hide their anxieties and loneliness, and to lend enthusiasm
to the celebration of the nation's anniversary. One after another they
were startled from the deep slumber of early morning by the knocking at
the door,--"the first knell of disaster,"--and who that saw the old
Missouri post when the fearful news was finally made known to all will
ever forget the scene that ensued? May God avert the possibility of such
another!
The day wore gloomily away at Russell. Twice Mr. Gleason called at
Captain Truscott's quarters. The second time Mrs. Stannard appeared at
the door, and briefly told him that Mrs. Truscott was not well enough to
see anybody, and that Miss Sanford begged to be excused. Mrs. Whaling
permeated the post in an ecstasy of soulful comfort, shedding prayers
and prophecies of similar fortune for the --th with the impartiality of
a saint. She even succeeded in scaring Mrs. Turner half to death and
exasperating Mrs. Wilkins to the verge of a tirade, but the latter had
contented herself with the spirited, though ungrateful announcement that
when it came to having hearses and mutes it wouldn't be Mrs. Whaling
they'd inquire for. "Matters are bad enough without your making 'em
worse, ma'am," she said, in her decided way. And the good lady, longing
to deluge somebody with sympathetic tears, was compelled to confine
herself to the round of the infantry quarters, where, with the ladies of
her own regiment, she could bemoan the unfathomable ingratitude and lack
of appreciation of their sisters of the --th.
Late that afternoon there came more orders and despatches. Truscott and
the other cavalry officers were summoned to Colonel Whaling's, where
they found most of the infantrymen already assembled. Captain Webb had
been called back to Kansas as a witness before a civil court, and to
Truscott the order of the division commander was conveyed that he should
march with the two troops at Russell without delay, and join the --th
wherever he could find them north of the Platte. Three of the four
infantry companies would also march for Laramie at dawn. Colonel
Whaling, with one small company, the recruits, the band, and the
non-combatants, would remain to take charge of the post.
Sending for his first sergeant, Truscott ordered him to have everything
put in readiness at once. A man was sent to town to recall all soldiers
on pass. There had been no drills during the day. Officers and men alike
seemed stunned by the tidings that had come at guard-mounting. He then
went to his quarters, and to his young wife's bedside. She was prepared
for the news; he had told her during the day that now every available
officer and man would be hurried to the front. She was in no danger
whatever; it was the shock, the abruptness of the announcement of the
orderly, that had so prostrated her. She lay there very pale and
still--never taking her soft eyes from his face and holding tightly his
hand--as he gently told her all he had to say.
"I cannot be too thankful," he said at last, "that I have Miss Sanford
and Mrs. Stannard here to be your companions during the campaign. It
will be late in autumn before we can hope to return, my darling."
Later that evening the young subalterns of his own and Webb's troop came
to him for certain instructions as to the mess and baggage arrangements.
Mr. Gleason had not appeared since the issuance of the orders to march.
Tattoo was just sounding out on the parade, and the men could be seen
flitting to and fro against the lights of the company barracks. They
were standing at the little gate in front of his quarters, and two or
three officers passed them.
"Oh, Mr. Gleason, one moment," called Truscott.
Gleason turned and approached them.
"I presume you will mess with the rest of us,--at least until we reach
the regiment. Mr. Wells has been arranging for mess-furniture and
supplies."
"Well--er--no, captain," said Gleason, in evident embarrassment. "The
fact is the colonel directs that I remain here. _Somebody_ has to stay
to instruct recruits, and the colonel has settled upon me. It is merely
temporary, of course."
Truscott stood looking at him in silence a moment; a dark line was
growing between his brows.
"The colonel--er--sent for me just at retreat," Gleason stumbled on; "I
assure you I had nothing to say to him to bring about such a thing. It
was entirely against my wishes, but orders are orders."
"I am glad to hear you say the order was unsolicited," said the captain
shortly. "The colonel will, doubtless, notify me. That is all, Mr.
Gleason; I will not detain you."
And Gleason went on his way to the store, which he had lately avoided;
he felt that he stood in need of bracing. Still, so far as saying that
he had made no request of Colonel Whaling, he had told the truth. He
had simply represented the detachment of recruits as being utterly
demoralized by the news of the massacre, and that he had reason to
believe many of them would desert, and as _that_ would reflect on the
vigilance of the post commander, the latter jumped at what was suggested
to him by his far-sighted wife,--the temporary detention of Mr. Gleason
to take charge of them. At daybreak on the sixth, Truscott's squadron,
of over a hundred horse finely mounted, equipped, and disciplined, was
marching rapidly over the ridge to Lodge Pole, leaving Russell--wives
and children--behind; leaving to care for them, among others, Gleason
and Sergeant Wolf.
Wearily the day of their departure rolled away. Mrs. Truscott never left
her room. Mrs. Stannard and Miss Sanford rarely left her. Once or twice
had Mr. Gleason called, being met again by Mrs. Stannard, whom he was
beginning to hate. "The ladies were resting," he was informed; so, too,
was Mrs. Whaling told when she came, and seemed discomfited at not being
invited up-stairs. It was difficult, indeed, to persuade her that she
had not better remain in the parlor in case Mrs. Truscott should ask for
her.
"You see, Mrs. Stannard," explained Gleason, "the last thing I promised
Truscott as he rode away was that I would not lose sight of the ladies,
would watch over them incessantly, and I want to keep faith with him."
Mrs. Stannard had her doubts as to how much of this statement was true,
though she had no doubts as to how much was uncalled for. Mr. Gleason
went away feeling injured and rebuffed. It was Miss Sanford's business,
he held, to come down and see him if only for a moment. He had gained
his object in being kept back at the post, that he might pursue his
wooing. Satisfied of the wealth and social standing of the lady, he felt
no doubt whatever that if given a fair field he could win her, and win
her he would. If unlimited conceit has not yet been mentioned or
indicated as one of Mr. Gleason's prominent traits, the omission is
indeed important. He felt that up to the time of Truscott's coming his
progress had been satisfactory. Officers and ladies were already making
sly allusions in his presence as to his prospects for a second
entanglement, and were heard with complacent undenial. Ever since the
day of his aspersion of Ray he had been losing ground, however, and now,
confound it! here was Ray looming up as a hero again, making a wild
night-ride with despatches. He felt that things must be brought to a
crisis speedily. He knew that, properly handled, he had the means of
clouding Ray's name with something worse than suspicion. He had already
sneeringly replied to the officers who had spoken admiringly of Ray's
daring, by saying that Ray was, doubtless, trying to make a record to
block matters that were working against him here. Some of his auditors
had gone off disgusted. One had plainly said he was sick of
insinuations. Now, however, they were all gone, and he had the field
practically to himself. The half-dozen officers left at the post would
be little apt to interfere with him. Only, he must manage Mrs. Stannard.
Gleason took a fortifying glass or two, ordered up his horse, and, late
as it was, rode in to Cheyenne. There he dropped in at the
telegraph-office,--he could have sent it from the adjutant's office just
as well,--and, after some deliberation, wrote this despatch:
"WILLARD RALLSTON, ESQ., Omaha.
"Why no letter? When you coming? Act now. Ferguson gone.
"G."
Being in town he dropped in at one or two places of popular resort, and
had more or less conversation with the hangers-on at the open bars. He
drank more freely than usual, too, and while by no means off his
balance, mentally or physically, when at midnight he turned his horse's
head homewards, he was rather more capable of any deed of meanness than
would ordinarily have been deemed expedient. His quarters reached, he
stood for a moment gazing along the dark and silent row. Suddenly, soft
and sweet on the clear night air he heard the notes of a guitar, then a
tenor voice, well trained, rich and melodious. He well knew there was no
officer in the garrison who could sing like that. Who was it? Where was
it?
Slipping through the back-yard and keeping close under the high board
fence, Mr. Gleason tiptoed up the row until behind Truscott's. A
convenient knot-hole enabled him to peer through, and his eye lit on the
dim figure of a man enveloped in cavalry overcoat standing beneath the
rear window. This, then, was the troubadour.
A moment or two previous, Miss Sanford, wearied after a long day of
anxiety and care, was roused from a broken sleep by a soft, sweet tenor
voice beneath her window, and the tinkling accompaniment of a guitar.
Each word came floating through the silent night,--
"Rings Stille herscht--es schweigt der Wald,
Vollendet ist des Tages Lauf;
Der Vögleins Lied ist längst verhallt,
Am Himmel ziehn die Sterne auf.
Schlaf wohl, schlaf wohl,
Und schliess die schönen Augen zu;
Schlaf wohl, schlaf wohl,
Du süsser, lieber Engel Du."
She knew instantly who it must be. She noiselessly slipped to the door
leading into Grace's chamber, and the dim night-light showed her sweet
friend sound asleep. Returning, she crept to the window, shrouded as it
was by the inner curtain. No sign would she give that the song was
heard, but what woman would not have risked one peep? Finishing his
song, the serenader turned on his heel, gave one long, lingering look at
the darkened window, then strode out of the rear gate and away towards
the band quarters. Drawing the curtain farther aside, Miss Sanford
plainly recognized the walk and bearing. She followed him with her eyes
until he had gone full a hundred yards, was about to let fall the
curtain, when, crouching like panther, sneaking from shadow to shadow,
there slipped past the gate the dim figure of a second man in stealthy
pursuit. Who could this be? The first, of course, was Sergeant Wolf.