But, as on more than one previous occasion, Captain Devers was not
immediately to be found. He was not at his quarters, not at the store
nor the stables. Mr. Hastings said later that just after Cranston and
Davies went to the adjutant's office, Devers came from his house and
went over to the barracks. Sergeant Haney did not know where the captain
had gone. Not until 10.30 o'clock did the orderly succeed in finding
him, coming up the bluff from the river bottom, whither he had ridden,
he said, to look over the prospective ice crop. By that time Pegleg was
tired of waiting and had dismissed his visitors. They, however, were
recalled in a minute, and when Captain Devers was made acquainted with
Mr. Davies's positive denial of his allegations, Captain Devers promptly
shifted the responsibility to the shoulders of the attendant, Private
Paine, who had persisted, he said, in his story despite his, Devers's,
incredulity and stringent cross-examination. Bang went Pegleg's fist on
the bell. "Send for Private Paine, Troop 'A,'" said he. "I'm bound to
get to the bottom of this at once." And then while the orderly was gone
he began pacing the floor, occasionally stopping to drum on the
frost-covered window. Leonard shifted his seat to Cranston's side and
entered into low-toned chat with him and Davies, though neither seemed
in mood to talk. A natural question that had risen to their lips was why
Leonard seemed to think that Brannan was well known to Davies before his
enlistment, and this question Leonard had disposed of by saying that he
had been assured that this was the case, and that he would ask his
informant's permission to give his name. It was an officer and a friend
of Davies, and the statement was made in all apparent good faith. Devers
sat nervously in a chair feigning to read a newspaper, but every now and
then furtively watching the three. Presently the orderly came back.
Trooper Paine wasn't in the post: he'd gone with the market wagon to
town.
"Captain Devers," said Pegleg, irritably, "you ought to have known this.
Why didn't you say he'd gone, instead of keeping us waiting here?"
"I protest against the imputation, colonel," said Devers, to all
appearances much injured at such injustice. "The wagon rarely, if ever,
goes to town on Monday, and that Private Paine should have gone with it
is equally fortuitous."
"Well, just as soon as that wagon gets back I wish to examine that man,
and I wish you, gentlemen, to be present, also Doctor Burroughs. You see
to it, Mr. Leonard."
"I'll give instructions at once," said Leonard, rising quickly, and
then, with significant glance at Cranston, taking his cap and quitting
the office.
"Then, Colonel Stone," said Devers, "I must ask, in justice to myself,
that one or two officers, who are friends of mine, may be present at the
inquisition. I am conscious of nothing but enemies in this office, and I
can expect no fair play."
Stone whirled wrathfully upon him. "Your language is insubordinate,
Captain Devers, and there must be an immediate end to it. If you have
enemies here, they are of your own making. Bring any gentleman who will
consent to appear with you, and, meantime, sir, you may withdraw."
"And leave the field in possession of my opponents, sir, and, like Sir
Peter Teazle, my character in their hands. There is a higher court than
a post commander," said Devers, white and trembling with mingled wrath
and apprehension, "and to that court I shall appeal."
"You shall have every opportunity, sir," answered the colonel, with a
bang upon his bell, "and leave this office in arrest if I hear another
word.--Recall Mr. Leonard," said he to the orderly, who sprang in with
scared face as Devers went mumbling out, "Which way did he go?"
"To the cavalry barks, sir," answered the Irish soldier, and Devers
caught the reply before he was fairly out of the hall. He turned whiter
still, for sudden suspicion flashed upon him. He halted as though more
than half disposed to again address his commander, but realized that
already he had gone too far. He looked again across the white level of
the parade and saw the tall, dark figure of the adjutant stalking
straight to the door of his own troop office, and as with anxiously
throbbing heart he walked away homewards, Devers watched his hated
persecutor, almost divining what was his purpose,--what would be his
first question. He saw him halt and the office-door open and Sergeant
Haney come forth. Haney, who could be flippant and independent in the
presence of his own lieutenants, stood like a statue before that dark,
saturnine face. Officer or man, no soldier in that garrison ever took a
liberty with Leonard. Devers realized that he had made a fatal error at
last. He almost realized--almost divined the very words of that brief,
curt interview.
"Sergeant Haney, you must have known Trooper Paine would be needed at
the office this morning. How, then, did you select him to go to town?"
And Haney, to use his own expression, "wilted."
"Them was the captain's orders, sir."
"Captain who?"
"Captain Devers, sir."
"That's all."
And when Sergeant Haney was informed ten minutes later that the captain
wished to see him at his quarters at once, he realized that there were
breakers ahead in earnest, and went with his heart in his mouth. Later,
when he came forth after full confession of the adjutant's question and
his own compromising reply, the sergeant proceeded to the adjutant's
office, asked to see that gentleman, well known throughout the old army
as Black Larry, and nervously twitching his cap stood uneasily before
those penetrating eyes. "I've come to make a correction, sir. I
misunderstood the captain."
"As to what?"
"As to Paine. The captain told me he might be needed this morning. Then
he said he promised Paine he might go to town next trip of the
market-wagon. We were out of potatoes, sir, and there were fine ones in
market, so the captain said we'd better secure some without delay. I
took it he meant at once, and so the wagon went this morning and Paine
went along. I suppose I got it mixed, sir, but I thought the captain
meant Paine should go to-day."
"Which wasn't at all what the captain meant you should think, eh?" said
Leonard, dryly.
"No, sir. He says he meant to have him ready to go to see the colonel."
"Exactly. I only marvel at your misunderstanding such explicit and
clear-cut orders," said Leonard, with calm sarcasm. "That will do,
sergeant, so far as you are concerned." And Haney walked away, well
content that when Paine and the wagon got back there would be something
more for "the ould man" to explain, or stand the consequences.
But even Haney had only faint conception of his captain's squirming
powers. Not until evening stables was the wagon back from Braska. It was
loaded to the guards with fine Utah potatoes for the troop mess, and
there was no room for Trooper Paine. "You're wanted at the adjutant's
office at once," said the orderly to the wagon-driver, who was already
in conversation with Sergeant Haney, "and I'm to fetch you with me."
"The man can't go till he's put up his team, young fellow," said Haney
to the infantry bugler.
"He can when ould Pegleg's a-pullin', Misther Sergeant Haney, and he's
not to go anywhere else or talk with any one else furst off ayther," was
the significant answer,--another unpleasant item to impart to his now
wretchedly uneasy captain; and verily it seemed to Haney that the
halcyon days were done for good and all, when soon after dusk a little
squad from Cranston's troop, with Second Lieutenant Sanders in command,
rode briskly away on the Braska road, and it was speedily whispered
about the garrison that they were going to find Paine, drunk or sober,
dead or alive, and fetch him back to the post forthwith.
"It takes a heap of nagging to get old Pegleg fully worked up," said the
fellows of the Fortieth that night, _à propos_ of the snub given Devers,
and the pursuit by members of another troop of material witnesses, "but
when he locks horns in dead earnest, the other party's got to scratch
gravel; it's business and no quarter."
Meantime, acting under the advice of Captain Cranston, Davies had
refrained from making any complaint of the language which Devers had
seen fit to use at his expense. "Leonard says that some other matters
should come up first, and Leonard knows. The colonel is after Devers
with a sharp stick now, and all these charges are to be sprung upon him
presently. You go on getting your quarters ready for Wednesday's
house-warming. By that time you'll be wanted on the witness-stand.
To-morrow, Tuesday, there'll be fun at the commanding officer's office
with a general court-martial looming up behind it. Meantime, hold your
peace."
This was Monday evening, and when he returned, meditating, to his
temporary fireside, he found Mira surrounded by a swarm of post callers,
smiling and chatting, gracious and gay. He was in no mood for chatter
himself, but had to sit by and strive to be interested and sociable.
Most of their visitors had heard the story of Captain Devers's close
call at the office that morning, and not a few sought to hear the facts
of the case from the lips of an eye-witness. But Davies would not speak
of the matter at all, and, finding him intractable, some one asked if
Sanders had returned, and what success had attended his search for the
missing. It was nearly time for tattoo. Dr. Burroughs was among the
callers, and had just come over from the hospital. He had had no
addition to the list of patients. "On the contrary," said he, "I have a
man who might go to duty to-night were there need, and that is Miss
Loomis's patient, Brannan."
"Oh, do tell us about that, Mr. Davies," appealed Mrs. Flight, who was
again on hand, well knowing that next to the colonel's, where she was
not entirely in the good graces of the lady of the house, garrison
society would be most apt to be found in force doing homage to the
bride. "We've heard all manner of conjectures already, and are so eager
to know the truth. _Was_ he an old friend of her's, and _did_ he send
and beg her to come to him?"
"No," said Davies, promptly, "she got to the hospital by merest
accident. Louis Cranston's throat was sore, and he was coughing a great
deal. She went for medicine, and I happened to meet her on the way."
"But they said there was such a romantic scene; he wept and clung to her
hand, and----"
Here Burroughs opportunely and somewhat aggressively burst into a guffaw
of derisive laughter. "Miss Loomis is just one of those admirable
women," said he, "that empty-headed idiots prate about. I wish other
people had half her sense." A luckless way of essaying the defence of
the absent, for it reflected on many a woman present.
"Fie! Dr. Burroughs," exclaimed Mrs. Flight. "Your blushes give you
away, even more than your words. Don't you be falling in love with Miss
Loomis. She's aiming higher than one room and a kitchen and a thousand a
year." Whereupon there was shrill laughter, and further accusation and
indignant protest from the ill-starred medico. And Davies, who ought to
have rejoiced in the loyalty of such admiration for his friend and
whilom nurse, was conscious of a pang of annoyance and aversion. The
entrance of the old chaplain and his wife, and dark, swarthy Leonard
with the handsome partner of his joys and sorrows, gave instant turn to
the conversation. In a very few minutes Mrs. Flight and two younger
matrons took their departure, Almira following them with rustic
regretfulness, and exchanging some whispered confidences at the door,
which brought new flush to Davies's anxious face. Mrs. Leonard was
speaking of a recent visit "up the road," as in those days the Union
Pacific in its westward climb to the Rockies was referred to. She had
had such a lovely visit to Fort Russell, and had so much to tell about
affairs in that particularly swell regiment, the --th, and the Truscotts
had entertained her at such a pretty dinner; Mrs. Truscott was charming,
and Mrs. Stannard was such a noble woman, and they were all so
interested in Mr. Ray's engagement. It was practically announced. He was
to be married to Miss Sanford--an heiress and a great catch--early in
June, and this led to the chaplain speaking of Ray, whom in days gone by
he was prone to look upon with little favor, if not indeed as a
ne'er-do-well. "I always feared that he would fall, and I am so rejoiced
in this new phase to his character."
"Oh, _I_ met Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Almira, delightedly. "He was ordered in
to General Sheridan on some duty late in the summer, and some of the
young officers, Percy's classmates, said he was such a brave fellow."
"What did the old officers say?" asked Leonard, with a twinkle in his
black eyes, but not the vestige of a grin under his heavy moustache.
"They? Oh, I don't remember their saying anything about _him_. They said
lots of lovely things about Percy."
"Yes. That's right. I can understand their omitting no opportunity of
doing that. One learns to be something of a courtier even in Chicago,
when on staff duty, and as for Washington, service there is a liberal
education in diplomacy. One never knows who may have the strongest pull
with the President in the event of a vacancy in the staff corps."
"Leonard," said the chaplain, gravely, "you're a born cynic and a
pessimist to boot. Have we no generous impulses in the army?"
"Lots of 'em. Lots of 'em, chaplain, especially in the line and on the
frontier, where we can afford to pat a fellow on the back, since we know
that's about the extent of the reward he'll ever get. It's when we're
in big society in the East, above all in Washington, one has to be
guarded in what he says, or first thing he knows he'll be hoisting some
fellow over his own head in a moment of enthusiasm. No. I know just how
you regard me, but I spent six weeks of a three months' leave in
Washington last winter, and sat night after night at the club, or day
after day among the army crowd at the Ebbitt, or in some fellow's den at
the Department, and never once did I hear one word of frank, outspoken,
fearless praise of some other fellow's work or deeds, unless it were to
his face. Ask a man flat-footed if that wasn't a capital scout of
Striker's last winter in the Tonto Basin, or if Jake Randlett hadn't
done a daring thing in going all alone through the Sioux country to drum
up Crow scouts for Crook's command, or what he thought of Billy Ray's
cutting his way out through the Cheyennes to bring help to Wayne last
June, and ten to one he'll hum and haw and say yes, he _did_ hear
something about that, and now that I mentioned it he believed Striker or
Jake or Billy had really behaved quite creditably, but the whole tone
was significant of nothing like what some other fellow I might mention,
modesty only forbidding, would have done under similar circumstances.'
It's just the damnation of faint praise. The trouble with the whole gang
of those fellows seems to be a mortal dread lest somebody's eyes should
be deflected from the valor of the warriors at Washington to that of the
warriors on the plains. What recognition do you suppose Ray will ever
get for that feat? General Crook says it's useless to recommend him for
brevet, because the Senate wouldn't confirm it, and the reason they
won't is that those hangers-on about the capital don't mean to let such
rewards be given to the men on the frontier. And yet this sort of thing
doesn't happen only in Washington. It was a cavalry officer who said of
that very affair that Ray was simply a reckless fellow under a cloud,
with everything to gain and nothing to lose, and that doing a reckless
thing was just as much a matter of instinct with him as battle is to a
bull-dog."
It was unusual to see Leonard warm up in this way. Besides the chaplain
and the silent host, there were three officers in the dreary little
bachelor den at the moment. Each and every one seemed surprised at the
adjutant's outbreak, but not one of them at the concluding revelation.
"No need to ask who that was," said Captain Hay, with a prefatory
"Humph." "It savors of Devers from first to last. That man is a born
iconoclast. He pulls down everybody's idols and sneers at what he cannot
pull down,--our ideals."
"Well, now let me ask you," said the chaplain, a man whose broad charity
led him at any and all times to the defence of the absent. "Without
detracting in the faintest degree from the heroism and value of Mr.
Ray's exploit, are there not degrees of personal bravery, are there not
possibilities of an order of courage higher even than his? As I recall
him, he was what I should term a fearless man, brave to a fault; but
have we not in the army tens and perhaps hundreds of honorable gentlemen
who are as keenly susceptible to the thrill of danger as Ray is
apparently dead to it? Have I not heard man after man say how his own
knees trembled or his comrade's cheek blanched at the whistle of the
first bullets of the battle? And as for this Indian campaigning, can
there be a warfare imagined in which the percentage of peril is so
great, the possibilities of ambush, surprise, sudden death in the midst
of fancied security so constant, the daily and nightly circumstances so
full of incessant nervous strain? Now, who is the better soldier,--the
really braver, or, perhaps better, the more courageous man,--he who
rides the trail utterly reckless of or insensible to its peril, or he
who, sighting danger in every bush, scenting death on every breeze,
looking every instant for the war-whoop, the death-wound, nevertheless
so bears himself with all his faculties in hand as to seem calm, serene,
confident, and stands ready for death or duty at any moment? I have
always held that the Christian gentleman was the highest type of the
highest order of courage; the man who replaced the fatalism of the
Mahometan with the sustaining faith of the soldier of the Cross. But I
see you think I'm in the pulpit and preaching again," said he, smiling
at Leonard. "We both warmed up to our hobby."
They were silent a moment. Across the wintry night the trumpets were
singing the lullaby of the crowded garrison, and hurrying footsteps told
of belated subalterns speeding to their companies to supervise the
roll-calls. Leonard rose to his full height and threw his cloak over his
broad shoulders.
"We are more in accord in this matter than you think, perhaps, chaplain;
only the man doesn't live who could be insensible to the danger of
cutting his way through a band of encircling Cheyennes. I've heard of
no braver deed in many a year than Ray's. I doubt if we'll hear of truer
grit or courage in many more."
"Perhaps not, Leonard," said the chaplain, as the adjutant paused an
instant at the threshold to say he would return the moment he had
received the reports. "Perhaps not, nor would I say one word to
underrate the heroism of Ray's exploit; but when we do hear of another I
look to hear of it in some fellow as firm in his faith as he is in his
sense of honor and duty, and some day we shall see."
But Leonard did not return in five minutes nor in ten, and Mrs. Leonard
grew anxious. "This never happens unless something unusual has
occurred." Captain Hay stepped through the hall and opened the outer
door.
"There are lights dancing about over there on the parade near 'A'
Troop's quarters. I wonder what's up. Hullo, Sanders! That you? When did
you get back? Did you get your man?"
"Got two of 'em," was the breezy answer. "T'other one disguised as a
gentleman in cits and just about starting on the night train for the
West,--the gifted Mr. Howard, clerk of 'A' Troop."
Mrs. Davies was standing just within the parlor door at the moment,
blushing over the praises lavished on her by the chaplain's impulsive
helpmeet and trying hard to say civil and appropriate things to her
guests. The officers, one and all, had edged into the hall-way in
eagerness to hear the news.
"What was it Mr. Sanders said?" asked Mrs. Leonard, anxious to know
what detained her husband. Hay half turned.
"He says they arrested two men, one of them apparently deserting, being
in civilian dress and aboard the train,--Captain Devers's new clerk,
Howard."
And then every one in the parlor saw that Mrs. Davies was seized as with
sudden faintness. She turned very white and grasped at the nearest chair
for support. "I'm only dizzy, not ill, or I don't know what it is," she
protested, as they crowded round her, and Davies came quickly in,
conscious that something was amiss. Nor did she recover her color or her
calm. Nervous, fluttering answers only could she give to their
sympathetic inquiries, and when presently Leonard reappeared, cool and
imperturbable as ever, she was evidently relieved to see her guests
departing. The adjutant explained his detention by saying he had gone to
the colonel's with Sanders, who had galloped ahead, leaving his guard to
bring along the prisoners in an ambulance, Paine too drunk to be able to
move. They would hardly arrive before eleven.
"The colonel desires to see you at the office at eight o'clock in the
morning," said he in low tone to Cranston. "Howard has been away all
day,--since guard-mounting, in fact,--and no report was made of it.
Devers has been notified that the colonel would investigate matters--the
whole business, in fact--early to-morrow."
But who can tell what a day may bring forth? Devers, after a sleepless
night, filled with foreboding of the wrath to come as the result of that
impending investigation, sat nervously over his coffee while the
trumpets were sounding first call for guard-mounting, and turned a shade
yellower at the ring of the front-door bell. The servant re-entered the
dining-room and announced that Lieutenant Leonard, the adjutant,
desired to speak to the captain. For a moment he could not rise.
Conscious of his own double-dealing, visions of arrest, charges,
court-martial--heaven knows what all--were floating before his startled
eyes, but go he had to. Summoning courage, bravado, or something, he
swaggered into the hall.
"Oh--ah--step into the parlor, Mr. Leonard," said he, airily, "I presume
you're here on business." He was preparing to exhibit amaze--virtuous
and soldierly indignation--at the idea of having, all unheard and
unrepresented, been ordered into arrest on the prejudiced statement of a
swarm of hostile officers and sorely badgered and bullied members of his
troop. Well knowing himself to be tottering on the ragged edge of final
discovery, his duplicity exposed, his deceit established, he
nevertheless braced himself for the supreme effort to bluff to the very
last. Thanks to the storm-shed without, the hall was dark, and for a
moment he could only vaguely see the huge bulk of the infantryman
standing erect before him, the very attitude indicative of stern
official purpose.
And then in sudden revulsion of feeling,--in a wild whirl of reviving
hope, courage, exultation,--he noticed that the adjutant was without his
sword, and listened, spell-bound, well-nigh incredulous and without
reply, to the brief official words which Mr. Leonard delivered, then
saluting, turned on his heel and left the house.
"It is my duty to announce, sir, that Colonel Stone has had a stroke of
apoplexy or vertigo and is seriously ill. As senior captain, you are in
command of the post."