They were having an anxious day of it at Laramie. Early in the morning
a brace of ranchmen, still a-tremble from their experiences of the
night, made their way into the post and told gruesome stories of the
doings of the Indians at Eagle's Nest and beyond. The Cheyenne stage,
they said, was "jumped," the driver killed, and the load of passengers
burned alive in the vehicle itself. There might have been only fifty
warriors when they fought Lieutenant Blunt and his party in the Chug
Valley, but they must have been heavily re-enforced, for there were two
hundred of them at the least count when they swept down upon the little
party of heroes at the stage station. They fought them like tigers,
said the ranchmen, but they would probably have burned the building
over their heads and "roasted the whole outfit" had it not been that
the coming of the stage had diverted their attention. These were the
stories with which the two worthies had entertained the guard and other
early risers pending the appearance of the commanding officer; and
these were the stories that, in added horrors and embellishments,
spread throughout the garrison, through kitchen to breakfast-room, as
the little community began to make its appearance down-stairs. Major
Miller, a veteran on the frontier, had taken the measure of his
informants in a very brief interview. Aroused by the summons of
Lieutenant Hatton, to whom as officer of the day the guard had first
conducted these harbingers of woe, the major had shuffled down-stairs
in shooting-jacket and slippers, and cross-examined them in his
dining-room. Both men looked wistfully at the brimming decanter on his
sideboard, and one of them "allowed" he never felt so used up in his
life; so the kind-hearted post commander lugged forth a demijohn and
poured out two stiff noggins of whiskey, refreshed by which they retold
their tale. Miller "gave them the rein" for five minutes and then
cross-questioned, as a result of which proceeding he soon dismissed
them to the barracks and breakfast, and announced to Hatton and the
adjutant that there would be no change in the orders,--he didn't
believe one-fourth of their story. The stage, he said, wasn't due at
Eagle's Nest until four o'clock in the morning, and these men had
declared it burned at three. It was utterly improbable that it came
farther than Phillips's crossing of the Chugwater, where it was due at
midnight, and where long before that time all the hands at the station
had been warned, both by couriers and fugitives, that the Indians were
swarming up the valley. They had cut the telegraph-wire, of course, on
striking the road, early in the afternoon, and it was impossible to
tell just how things had been going; but he was willing to bet that the
stage was safe, despite the assertions of the ranchmen that they had
seen the blaze and heard the appalling shrieks of the victims. The
major's confidence, however, could not be shared by the dozen houses
full of women and children whose closest protectors were far away on
the fields where duty called them. Laramie was filled with white,
horror-stricken faces and anxious eyes, as the ladies flitted from door
to door before the call for guard-mounting, and "boomed" the
panic-stricken ranchmen's story until it reached the proportions of a
wholesale massacre and an immediately impending siege of the fort by
Red Cloud and all his band. Women recalled the fearful scene at Fort
Phil Kearney in 1866, when the same old chieftain, Mach-pe-a-lo-ta,
surrounded with a thousand warriors the little detachment of three
companies and butchered them within rifle range of the trembling wives
and children at the post; and so by the time the story reached the
doctor's kitchen it had assumed the dimensions of a colossal tragedy.
They were just gathering in the breakfast-room,--Nellie a trifle pale
and weary-looking, the doctor and Holmes a bit the worse for having sat
up so late and smoked so many cigars, but disposed to be jovial and
youthful for all that. Coffee was not on the table, and Robert failed
to respond to the tinkling of the little silver bell. Then sounds of
woe and lamentation were heard in the rear, and the doctor impatiently
strode to the door and shouted for his domestics. Robert responded, his
kinky wool bristling as though electrified and his eyes fairly starting
from their sockets; he was trembling from head to foot.
"What's the matter, you rascal, and why do you not answer the bell?"
angrily demanded his master.
But it was "the Johnsons' Winnie" who responded. She had doubtless
been going the rounds, and was only waiting for another chance to make
a dramatic _coup_. Rushing through the kitchen, she precipitated
herself into the breakfast-room. "Oh, Miss Nellie," she sobbed,
"there's drefful news. The Indians burned the stage with everybody in
it, and they've shot Captain Terry and Mr. McLean an' all the soldiers
with 'em, an'----"
"Silence, you babbling idiot!" shouted Dr. Bayard. "Stop your fool
stories, or I'll----"
"But it's God's truth, doctor. It's God's truth," protested Winnie,
desperately determined to be defrauded of no part of her morning's
sensation. "Ask anybody. Ask the sergeant of the guard. Yo' can see the
men what brought the news yo'self."
"Pardon me, doctor," interrupted Mr. Holmes, in calm, quiet tones.
"This has been too much of a shock for Miss Bayard, I fear." And
already he was by her side, holding a glass of water to her pallid
lips. The doctor pointed to the door.
"Leave the room, you pestilence in petticoats!" he ordered. "Go!" And,
having accomplished her desire to create a sensation, though balked of
the full fruition of the promised enjoyment, Winnie flew to "Bedlam,"
where she only prayed that Celestine might not be before her with the
news. Meantime, Dr. Bayard had turned to his daughter. His first
impulse was to reprove her for her ready credence of the story set
afloat by so notorious a gabbler as the Johnsons' "second girl." One
glance at Elinor's pale features and drooping mien changed his
disposition in a trice. Anxiously he stepped to her side, and his
practised hand was at her pulse before a word of question was uttered.
Then he gently raised her head.
"Look up, daughter! Why, my little girl, this will never do! I don't
believe a word of this absurd story, and you must not let yourself be
alarmed by such fanciful pictures. Come, dear! Mr. Holmes will excuse
you this morning. Let me get you to your room. Will you kindly touch
that bell, Holmes, and send Chloe to me? I'll rejoin you in a moment.
Come, Nell?"
And half leading, half carrying, he guided her from the room and up the
stairs, while Holmes, with grave and thoughtful face, stood gazing
after them. It was some time before the doctor reappeared, even after
Chloe joined him in the chamber of her young mistress. When he did the
breakfast was cold, and both men were too anxious to get the true story
to care whether they breakfasted or not. Each took a swallow of coffee,
then hastened forth.
"That poor little girl of mine!" said Dr. Bayard. "She has a very
nervous, sensitive organization, and such a shock as that fool of a
wench gave her this morning is apt to upset her completely. Now, she
has no especial interest in any of Terry's party, and yet you might
suppose her own kith and kin had been scalped and tortured."
But Holmes would not reply.
Meantime, Winnie had reached "Bedlam," where, to her disgust, Celestine
had already broached the tidings to the breakfast-table, and Mrs.
Forrest had been borne half fainting to her room. Pale, but calm and
collected, Miss Forrest returned and began questioning the girl as to
the sources of her information, and it was on hearing this colloquy
that Winnie took heart of grace and impulsively sprang up the steps
into the hall-way to add her share to the general sensation. It was
with a feeling bordering on exultation that she found the local account
to be lacking in several of the most startling and dramatic
particulars. Celestine had not heard of the massacre of Captain Terry's
command, and it was her own proud privilege to break the news to Miss
Forrest. Here, however, she overshot the mark, for that young lady
looked determinedly incredulous, dismissed her colored informant as no
longer worthy of consideration, and, taking a light wrap from the
hat-rack in the hall, tapped at Mrs. Post's door.
"Will you kindly look after Mrs. Forrest a moment in case she should
need anything? I will go to Major Miller's and investigate these
stories. They seem absurd."
And with that she sped swiftly around the parade, along the broad walk,
and was quickly at the major's door and ushered into the parlor. There
were Dr. Bayard and Mr. Holmes in earnest talk with the commanding
officer. All three arose and greeted her with marked courtesy.
"I am sorry that my wife is not here to welcome you, Miss Forrest,"
said the major, "but with the exception of her and yourself the entire
feminine element of this garrison is stampeded this morning; the women
have frightened themselves out of their senses. Have you come for Dr.
Bayard? I hope Mrs. Forrest has not collapsed, as Mrs. Gordon has. Mrs.
Miller has gone to pull her out of a fit of hysterics."
"Mrs. Forrest will need nothing more, I think, than an assurance that
there is little truth in these stories."
"Upon my word, Miss Forrest, I believe they are as groundless as--other
sensational yarns that have come to my ears. Two badly-scared ranchmen
are responsible for kindling the fire, but the nurse-maids and cooks
have fanned it into a Chicago conflagration. The Indians may have built
a fire down the road beyond Eagle's Nest, but I'll bet it wasn't the
stage. And as for Terry and McLean, we haven't a word of any kind from
them. That story is built out of wind."
"Then will you pardon me, Dr. Bayard, if I suggest that it might be
well if some one in authority were to warn the hospital nurse who is
with Mr. Blunt, to be sure and let no one approach him with such news
as has been flying around the post? I fear he had a restless night."
"A most thoughtful suggestion, my dear young lady, and, if you are
going home, I will escort you, and then go to Blunt at once. May I have
that pleasure?"
"I--had hoped to see Mrs. Miller, doctor, and think I will go to the
east side a moment and inquire for Mrs. Gordon."
"By all means, Miss Forrest, and so will I," answered Bayard, bowing
magnificently. "You will excuse me, Mr. Holmes? I will be home in a
quarter of an hour."
"Certainly, doctor, certainly," was the prompt reply, and both Major
Miller and Mr. Holmes followed the two out upon the piazza and stood
watching them as they walked away.
"A singularly handsome and self-possessed young woman that, Mr.
Holmes!" remarked the major. "Now, there's the sort of girl to marry in
the army. She has nerve and courage and brains. By Jove! That's one
reason, I suppose, the women don't like her!"
"And they do not like her?" queried Holmes.
"Can't bear her, I judge, from what I hear. She dresses so handsomely,
they say, that she's an object of boundless interest to them,--like or
no like."
"Our friend the doctor seems decidedly an ardent admirer. He was
showing himself off in most brilliant colors last night, and evidently
for her benefit."
"Oh, yes, I rather fancied as much. They would make a very
distinguished couple," said the colonel, reflectively, "and no bad
match, despite the disparity in years. She refused two youngsters up at
Red Cloud who were ready to cut each other's throats on her account.
That's one reason I admire her sense. The idea of a woman like that, or
any woman, marrying a second lieutenant!"
"You waited for your 'double bars,' major?" smilingly queried Mr.
Holmes.
"Oh, Lord, no!" laughed Miller. "Like most people who preach, I'm past
the practising age. I was married on my graduation leave,--but things
were different before the war. Army people didn't live in the style
they put on now. Our wives were content with two rooms and a kitchen, a
thousand a year, and one new dress at Christmas. Now!" but the major
stopped short, words failing him in the contemplation of mightiness as
shown in the contrast.
"I'm no great judge of women," said Holmes, presently, "but that young
lady roused my interest last night. Are there any tangible reasons why
they should give her the cold shoulder?"
Miller colored in the effort to appear at ease.
"None that I have any personal knowledge of or feel like treating with
respect. There's no accounting for women's whims," he added,
sententiously. "Jupiter! Here it is nine o'clock, and nothing done yet.
I can't telegraph, for they've cut the wires. I've sent out scouts, but
it may be noon before they'll get back. Meantime, we have to sit here
with our hands tied, and the devil to pay generally in garrison. Ah!
there go the doctor and Miss Forrest over to 'Bedlam.' Isn't he a
magnificent old cock? Just see him court her! Will you come with me to
the office?"
"I believe not, major. I think I'll walk around a little. I'm a trifle
fidgety myself this morning, and eager for reliable news. There's no
objection, is there, to my going down to the barracks and interviewing
those ranchmen? You know I'm something of a 'cow-puncher' myself, and
may be able to squeeze some grain of truth out of them."
"No, indeed! Go ahead, Mr. Holmes, and if you extract anything
veritable let me know."
Passing Bedlam, Mr. Holmes glanced up at the open gallery where the
hospital attendant happened to be standing. The doctor had entered the
other hall with Miss Forrest, and was doubtless majestically
ministering to the nervous ailments of her sister-in-law.
"How is Lieutenant Blunt this morning?" he asked.
"He had a hard night, sir," was the low-toned answer. "He was in a high
fever much of the time, but he seems sleeping now. Is there any further
news, Mr. Holmes?"
"There is no truth in the news you have heard, if you have been
afflicted with the stories sent around the post this morning. Be sure
and keep everything of the kind from Mr. Blunt. Here! Can you catch?"
And fumbling in his waistcoat-pocket, he fetched out a glittering gold
piece and tossed it deftly to the gallery. It fell upon the boards with
a musical ring, and was quickly pounced upon by the man, who blushed
and grinned awkwardly.
"I don't like to take this, sir," he said. "It's five dollars."
"Never mind what it is! It's worth a thousand times its weight if you
keep all such yarns from the lieutenant.--Oh! Good-morning, Mr. Hatton!
I thought your rooms were up-stairs," he said, as at that moment the
infantryman stepped forth from the lower hall.
"They are, Mr. Holmes, but I have taken up my quarters temporarily in
McLean's, so as not to disturb Blunt with the creaking of those
ramshackle old stairs. What is Mac's is mine, and _vice versa_. Won't
you come in?"
Mr. Holmes hesitated a moment. Then a sudden thought struck him. He
sprang lightly up the steps and was ushered into the sanctum of the
young soldier, whom he had marked the night before starting upon the
scout with Terry's troopers.
"So this is McLean's vine and fig-tree, is it?" said he, as he looked
curiously around. "Ha! Lynchburg sun-dried, golden leaf! Can I have a
pipe?"
"Most assuredly! Excuse me five minutes, while I run over to the
guard-house. Then I'll rejoin you, and we'll have a whiff together."
Another moment, and Mr. Holmes was sole occupant of the premises.
He seemed to forget his desire for a smoke, and in its stead to become
possessed with a devil of mild inquisitiveness. After a rapid glance
around the front room, with its bare, barrack-like, soldier furnishing,
he stepped quickly into the bed-chamber in the rear and went
unhesitatingly to the bureau. The upper drawer came out grudgingly and
with much jar and friction, as the drawers of frontier furniture are
apt to do even at their best, but his firm hand speedily reduced it to
subjection. A little pile of handkerchiefs, neatly folded, stood in the
left-hand corner. He lifted the topmost, carried it to the window,
compared the embroidered initials with those of the handkerchief he
took from an inside pocket, scribbled a few closely-written words on a
blank card, carefully folded the handkerchief he had brought with him,
slipped the card inside the folds, replaced both on the pile, closed
the drawer, and was placidly puffing away at his pipe when Hatton
returned.