by Charles King
CHAPTER V.
A week later, with additional detachments of horse, foot, and recruits,Mr. Davies found himself in camp on the sandy, sage-covered flats to thewest of old Fort Fetterman. Here, too, were gathered wagons and mulesladen with ammunition and supplies for the big column already in thefield far to the northward. Officers hurrying to the front from leave ofabsence which they had promptly relinquished, newspaper correspondents,packers, teamsters, scouts and would-be scouts, soldiers old andsoldiers new,--it was a strange and motley array, all awaiting thecoming of the cavalry command, which was to be their escort through theIndian-infested region that lay between them and the main supply campbeyond Cloud Peak. Between them and the barren slopes to the northwardrolled the swollen Platte, its shallowest fords breast-deep. At rareintervals, with his life in his hands and his despatches done up inoil-skin, some solitary courier came galloping down to the opposite bankand was hauled over by the rope ferry, the only means of drycommunication between the shores. One day, strongly guarded, therearrived a little procession of ambulances and _travois_, bearing such ofthe wounded as could stand such rude transportation,--but this was whileDavies with his recruits was still on his foot tramp through the passesof the Medicine Bow,--and among these wounded was Captain Cranston, nowcomfortably housed in the quarters of a brother officer who was with histroop at the front, and there Davies found the two ladies, hiscompanions of the railway ride, duly installed as nurses. Almost thefirst question asked by Miss Loomis was about her patient, the lancecorporal.
"He is here with us," said Davies, "his hand still in a sling. That wasa deep cut and a bad one, but he's a plucky young fellow and declined tobe left behind at Sanders. He tells me, however, that the hospitalsteward with us cannot compare in skill with the nurse he had on thecars."
Miss Loomis smiled. "You know I owe that to father," she said. Then,with quick change of subject, "But I haven't congratulated you on yourassignment."
"Is it here?--has it come?" he asked, eagerly. "I did not know. Whatregiment?"
"To the Eleventh Cavalry,--Captain Cranston's own regiment."
"The Eleventh Cavalry!" he exclaimed, surprise and pleasure in his face."I had not hoped for that; and yet----" a shadow falling and constraintcreeping into his tone. "I fear I ought to have gone into the infantry.I had made every preparation. Where did you hear?"
"About the orders? Why, from Colonel Denton. He came last evening tocall, and we were speaking of you. Haven't you been to see him yet? Youknow that's an officer's first duty on coming to a post."
"I came here first," answered Davies. "It seemed most natural. Of courseI was going to call on the commanding officer. Captain Tibbetts said hewould take me as soon as he came up, a little later. I got away earlier,as I wanted to inquire for my letters, but I missed them afterall,--they had been sent over to camp. Are you sure about my beingassigned to the cavalry?"
"There's no doubt about it. Colonel Denton said instructions came bytelegraph to notify you of your assignment to the Eleventh, anddirecting you as having relinquished graduation leave to report toColonel Winthrop, now commanding the regiment in the field. Perhaps yourthrowing up your leave and seeking instant service had something to dowith your good fortune,--if cavalry is really what you wanted."
"It is certainly what I would most like," he answered; "and yet,--therewere reasons."
She stood there in the door-way in her cool white dress looking so freshand dainty and fair to see; her dark eyes had lighted with pleasure atsight of her friend, and the flush was still on her soft and roundedcheek. She was noting how his few days of marching and campaigning hadimproved him, even at the expense of a sensitive complexion. Mr.Davies's nose was peeling, as a result of a week's exposure toblistering Wyoming suns, his eyes were red-rimmed too, in tribute toalkali dust and water. The gloss was gone from his trim fatigue dress, ared silk handkerchief had replaced the white starched collar, and a softdrab felt hat the natty forage-cap. But he looked the more soldierly andserviceable if less trim, and being tall, spare, and athletic, if notparticularly handsome, Mr. Davies was at least as presentable as theaverage of his fellows now thronging the post, for bristling beards andfrontier scouting-dress banish all vestige of dandyism. But if she likedhim still better now that the week had wrought its changes, what couldbe said of his impressions? Attractive as she had appeared in the grimeand dust and heat of the railway car, now in that dainty gown of coolwhite lawn, open at the rounded throat, she saw with woman's unerringeye the unspoken approval if not open admiration in his face. Not yetnineteen, she had lived a busy, earnest, thoughtful life. The Cranstonshad known her from early maidenhood. She was a child in the Southerngarrison in the days of the great epidemic, when the young captain owedhis life to the doctor's skill and assiduous care. It was this that ledto the deep friendship between the two men, and to Cranston's assumingthe duties of guardian and protector after Loomis's lamented death. Itwas this that determined her hastening to Mrs. Cranston the moment thesad news came, and then accompanying her to the frontier. A mature headwas that on her young shoulders, but she who had so easily repelled theadvances of the admiring fellow-passenger on the train had beenattracted by the bearing and behavior of the young officer, who,absorbed in his new cares and duties, had apparently noticed her hardlyat all. She and the train conductor and Mr. Langston, the elder of thetwo civilians, at least, knew who was the inspiration of that effectivesquelching given the rioting recruits, whatever impression might beprevailing at department head-quarters or at Sanders. She, presumably,had her duties as assistant to Mrs. Cranston at the bedside of thesorely wounded officer. Davies, too, had matters requiring his attentionabout the post, for the word had gone the rounds that they were to marchat dawn on the morrow. Yet here under the vine-sheltered portico theylingered, chatting on all manner of topics. Mrs. Cranston came smilinglyto congratulate the young officer on his assignment to her husband'sregiment, to say the captain was dozing now and that she thought shewould lie down a while, but that Miss Loomis was not to think of comingin out of the sweet summer air.
"Oh, Mr. Davies is only waiting for Captain Tibbetts to come up fromcamp to call with him on the post commander," said Miss Loomis; "andhere comes the captain now," she continued, as a stalwart, full-bearded,heavily-built fellow swung himself off his horse at the gate, and,leaving him with his orderly, came forward with cordial inquiries forhis wounded comrade, and with a packet of letters, at least a dozen,which he handed to the new lieutenant.
"Seven of them addressed in the same fair, feminine hand, youngster,"said he, in the easy jocularity of the frontier. "That gives you deadaway."
And the color that mounted to Mr. Davies's forehead, a cloud ofembarrassment, told plainly that the shot was a centre. He had notrecovered himself when the captain again turned, saying they must go tothe commanding officer's quarters at once or be too late.
"Remember, you are to come and lunch with us, Mr. Davies," said thecaptain's wife, as he was saying adieu.
"I--I'm afraid I can't, Mrs. Cranston," was his answer. "We march sosoon, and I have so many preparations to make."
"Preparations? Why, what on earth have you been doing ever since youcame up to the post?" asked his witless or too witty tormentor. "He'ssimply eager to get off by himself somewhere and devour his ration ofspoon meat. I know how it is, Mrs. Cranston. I was there ten years ago."And Davies's low-toned protestations were drowned in the jovial tones ofhis burly comrade.
"I'll come to say good-by to-night, perhaps," he stammered, as he wasled away, still clutching his packet; but Miss Loomis had turned andgone within-doors before the visitors reached the gate.
"I'm sorry to hear of it," said Captain Cranston, when later thatevening his wife was laughingly telling of Davies's betrayal andconfusion. "I always feel distressed to find a young fellow, justentering service, has already enlisted in one much more exacting. I wasin love when I graduated myself."
And Davies didn't come to say adieu. He wrote a note to Mrs. Cranstonsaying he
found so many duties crowding on him at the last moment, somany home letters to be written owing to his having left in such haste,that it was impossible for him to leave camp. He begged her to saygood-by for him to Miss Loomis, whom he sincerely hoped he might meetagain, and with his best wishes for the captain's speedy recovery andrestoration to duty, he begged to subscribe himself her friend and mostobedient servant.
"Now, I like that young fellow," said Mrs. Cranston, folding up theletter, "only I didn't----"
"Well, didn't what?" asked her companion, seeing that she had falteredfor a word.
"Well--he didn't act at all like an engaged man,--like he ought to haveacted," said Mrs. Cranston, with honest disdain of masculine flirts ormalevolent rules of speech, due perhaps to long association with bellesof the Blue Grass country.
"Why, I didn't think he was engaged," said Miss Loomis.
"No,--and he didn't mean you to. But when one mail brings a man sevenletters from one girl, I've no use for him."
"Well, I should much rather he had them of one than from seven differentgirls," said Miss Loomis, smiling resolutely.
"Oh, you're bound to uphold him, I see. All the same, I thought betterof him."
"Ah?" And now in a very pretty, playful way did Miss Loomis take hercompanion's flushed face between two long, white, slender hands,--verycool and dainty members were they,--and archly queried, "Are youbeginning to tire of your bargain, Lady Cranston? Are you planningalready to unload me, as the captain says, on somebody else?"
The answer came with sudden vehemence and a hug. "You are much too goodfor any man I know,--except Will, and you can't have him. And I'll neverlet you go till the right one comes."
After which outburst, and for over a week, did this young matron saylittle more to Miss Loomis on the subject, but she must have enlivenedsome hours of the captain's convalescence with her views on recentgraduates in general, and this one in particular, for when at lastletters came from the front announcing the arrival of the reinforcementsand the final cutting loose of the reorganized column from its base, theprostrate warrior glanced up at his busy wife with an odd mixture ofmerriment and concern in his haggard face.
"To whose troop do you suppose your friend Davies has been assigned?"
"Not to yours, surely. You have no vacancy."
"No. I fear I wish I had,--every time I see my bulky senior sub insaddle. But, of all men you know----"
"Will Cranston! You don't mean Captain Devers?"
"Yes,--Captain Differs, for a fact."
"Well, then your _protege_ and Mr. Davies have gone into the same troop.What a strange coincidence! Isn't it time Mrs. Barnard answered Agatha'sletter?"
"Time she answered it? Yes," replied Cranston, "yet not time for heranswer to get here. Poor lady! She was so distressed at the thought ofhis going into the army. I hope that letter will comfort her. It oughtto. I doubt if he ever did an honest day's work before."
