第 10 页

"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.

IX.

Late that afternoon the guard caught sight of a horseman loping rapidly up the valley and heading for the bridge across the Laramie. Long before he reached

the post an orderly had notified the commanding officer that a courier was coming,--doubtless from Captain Terry's party, and Major Miller's appearance on his north piazza, binocular in hand, and gazing

steadfastly over the distant flats to the winding trail along the river, was sufficient to bring strong representations of every household into view, all eager to see what he was seeing or to hear what he

might know. Mr. Hatton came hurriedly over from "Bedlam," took his place by the major's side, and a peep through the same big glasses. Then, after a moment's consultation, the two officers started down the

steps and walked briskly past the quarters on the east side, merely calling, in answer to the many queries, "Somebody coming with news from Terry!" and by the time they reached the old blockhouse at the

north end, the somebody was in plain view, urging his foam-flecked and panting steed to a plunging gallop as he neared the Laramie. The hoofs thundered across the rickety wooden bridge, and the rider was

hailed by dozens of shrill and wailing voices as he passed the laundresses' quarters, where the whole population had turned out to demand information. The adjutant had joined the commanding officer by this

time, and several of the guard had come forth, anxious and eager to hear the news. No man in the group could catch the reply of the horseman to the questioners at "Sudstown," but in an instant an Irish wail

burst upon the ear, and, just as one coyote will start a whole pack, just as one midnight bray will set in discordant chorus a whole "corral" of mules, so did that one wail of mourning call forth an echoing

"keen" from every Hibernian hovel in all the little settlement, and in an instant the air rang with unearthly lamentations.

"D---- those absurd women!" growled the major, fiercely, though his cheek paled

at dread of the coming tidings. "They'll have all the garrison in hysterics. Here, Hatton! run down there and stop their infernal noise. There isn't one in a dozen of 'em that has any idea of what has

happened. They're howling on general principles. What the devil does that man mean by telling his news before he sees the commanding officer, anyhow?"

Meantime, straight across the sandy flats and up the

slope came the courier, his horse panting loudly. Half-way from "Sudstown" he was easily recognized,--Corporal Zook, of "Terry's Grays," and a tip-top soldier. Reining in his horse, throwing the brown

carbine over his shoulder and quickly dismounting, he stepped forward to the group and, with the unfailing salute, handed his commander a letter.

"How came you to tell those women anything?" asked Miller,

his lips and hands trembling slightly, despite his effort to be calmly prepared for the worst. "Don't you see you've started the whole pack of them to yowling? I thought I warned you never to do that again,

when you came in with the news of Lieutenant Robinson's murder."

"The major did, sir; I had it in mind when I came in sight of those Irishwomen this time, and wouldn't open my lips, sir. They are bound to

make a row, whatever happens. I only shook my head at them, sir." And Corporal Zook, despite fatigue, hard riding, and dust, appeared, if one could judge by a slight twinkle of the eye, to take a rather

humorous view of this exposition of national traits. Followed by two or three of the guard, Mr. Hatton had obediently hastened to quell the tumult of lamentation, but by the time he reached the nearest