by Charles King
CHAPTER XI.
That evening, when John Folsom, half an hour earlier than the stipulatedtime, drove the girls and their friend, Lieutenant Loomis, out to thefort, Major Burleigh was left to his own devices, and his face plainlyshowed that he was far from pleased with the way things were going. Thenews that Marshall Dean had been placed in arrest by order of thecommanding officer of Fort Emory, following as it did close on the heelsof the tidings of that young officer's prompt and soldierly handling ofthe crisis at the ranch, made Folsom boil over with wrath. His firstword was one of caution, however. "Hush!" he said, "Speak low. Yonderstands his sister. The girls must not know yet." Then, leading the wayinto the library and closing the door behind them, he demanded allparticulars Lannion could give him, which were few enough.
"The lieutenant halted the troop outside the post," said the indignantranchman, "had it dismount there while he rode on in to report to thecommanding officer for instructions. The colonel was taking his napafter lunch, and the adjutant was at the office, and what does he do butget up from his desk solemn-like, and when the lieutenant says 'I reportthe arrival of Troop "C" at the post, sir,' the adjutant didn't answer aword, but reached out and got his sabre and began buckling it aroundhim, and then he put on his cap and gloves, and says he, 'LieutenantDean, I'm sorry, but my instructions are to place you in close arrest,by order of Colonel Stevens.' Why, you could have knocked me down withthe kick of a gopher I was so dumfounded! The lieutenant he didn't sayanything for a minute, but turned white and looked like he could haveknocked the top of the adjutant's head off. 'An officer will be sent totake charge of the troop,' said the adjutant, 'an' I suppose you'dbetter confine yourself to your tent, as the colonel means to have themcamp there a day or two, until he hears from Captain Brooks as toquarters.' 'Well, will you have the goodness to say what charges havebeen laid against me?' said Mr. Dean, and the adjutant hemmed, andhawed, and 'lowed that the colonel hadn't formerly drawn 'em up yet, butthat a copy would be served on him as soon as they were ready."
"Then I said I'd go right in and find you, and that's all I know."
And then it was that Folsom turned on Burleigh, with gloom in his eye,and said: "By the Eternal, Major Burleigh, I hope you've had nothing todo with this!"
"Nothing in the world, I assure you, Mr. Folsom, I--I deeply regret it.Though, as I have told you, I can hardly be surprised, after what hasbeen said, and--d what I have seen." But the major could not squarelymeet the gaze in the keen eyes of the old trader, nor could the latterconceal his suspicions. "I know you wish to hear all the particulars ofthe affair at the ranch from this gentleman," said the major uneasily,"so I will leave you with him for the present," and backing out into thehall he turned to the foot of the winding staircase where Elinor had mether friend. The girls were still there, their faces clouded withsurprise and anxiety. It was an opportunity not to be lost.
"Pray do not be troubled, Miss Folsom," said Burleigh, advancing uponthem with outstretched hand, "er, Mr. Folsom merely wants to hearfurther details from Lannion. I wish to extend my congratulations to youand, ah, this young lady, first upon the fortunate escape of _your_brother," and he bowed over his distended stomach to Elinor, "and secondupon the part played by _yours_," and he repeated the bow to Jess, who,however, shrank away from the extended hand. "It will go far tocounteract the stories that I--ah, er--believe you know about--that werein circulation, and most unjustly, doubtless, at--er--his expense."
"Who put them in circulation, Major Burleigh?" asked Pappoose, her browneyes studying his face as unflinchingly as had her father's gaze amoment before.
"That, my dear young lady I--er--cannot surmise. They are mostlyimaginative, I dare say."
But Miss Folsom looked unmollified, Miss Dean agitated, and Burleighhimself had many a reason for feeling ill at ease. Just at the time ofall others when he most desired to stand on good terms with thewell-to-do old trader and his charming daughter he found himself theobject of distrust. He was thinking hard and far from hopefully as amoment later he hastened down the street.
"Tell them to send up my buggy, quick," were his orders as he steppedwithin his office doorway. Then lowering his voice, "Has Captain Newhallreturned?" he asked the chief clerk.
"The captain was here, sir. Left word he needed to take the firsttrain--freight or construction, it made no difference--to Cheyenne andexpected to find a letter or package from you, and there's two telegramsin from Department Headquarters on your desk, sir."
The major turned thither with solemn face, and read them both, his backto his subordinate, his face to the light, and growing grayer everymoment. One was a curt notification that ten thousand dollars would beneeded at once at Warrior Gap to pay contractors and workmen, anddirecting him to send the amount from the funds in his keeping. Theother read as follows:
"Have all transportation put in readiness for immediate field service.Every wheel may be needed."
This he tossed carelessly aside. Over the first he pondered deeply, hisyellow-white face growing dark and haggard.
Ten thousand dollars to be sent at once to Warrior Gap! Workmen's pay!Who could have predicted that? Who could have given such an order? Whowould have imagined payment would have to be made before July, when somereasonable amount of work had been done? What could laborers do withtheir money up there, even if they had it? It was preposterous! It wasrisky to attempt to send it. But what was infinitely worse--for him--itwas impossible. The money was practically already gone, but--not toWarrior Gap.
Those were days when inspectors' visits were like those of other angels,few and far between. The railway was only just finished across the greatdivide of the Black Hills of Wyoming. Only as far as Cheyenne was therea time schedule for trains, and that--far more honored in the breachthan the observance. Passengers bound west of that sinfully thrivingtown were luckier, as a rule, if they went by stage. Those were days,too, in which a depot quartermaster with a drove of government mules anda corral full of public vehicles at his command was a monarch in theeyes of the early settlers; and when, added to these high-pricedluxuries, he had on deposit in various banks from Chicago to Cheyenne,and even here at Gate City, thousands of dollars in governmentgreenbacks expendible on his check for all manner of purposes, fromofficers' mileage accounts to the day laborer's wages, from bills forthe roofing of barracks and quarters to the setting of a singlehorseshoe, from the purchase of forage and fuel for the dozen militaryposts within range of his supply trains down to a can of axle grease.Every one knew Burleigh's horses and habits were far more costly thanhis pay would permit. Everybody supposed he had big returns from minesand stocks and other investments. Nobody knew just what his investmentswere, and only he knew how few they were and how unprofitable they hadbecome. Those were days when, as now, disbursing officers were forbiddento gamble, but when, not as now, the law was a dead letter. Burleigh hadgambled for years; had, with little remorse, ruined more than one man,and yet stood now awe-stricken and dismayed and wronged by Fate, sinceluck had turned at last against him. Large sums had been lost to playersinexorable as he himself had been. Large sums had been diverted from thegovernment channels in his charge, some to pay his so-called debts ofhonor, some to cover abstractions from other funds, "robbing Peter topay Paul," some to silence people who knew too much; some, ay, most ofit, in fact, to cover margins, and once money gets started on that gradeit slips through one's fingers like quicksilver. At the very moment whenAnson Burleigh's envious cronies were telling each other he stood farahead of the world, the figures were telling him he stood some twentythousand dollars behind it, and that, too, when he was confronted by twoimperative calls for spot cash, one for ten thousand to go to WarriorGap, another for a sum almost as big to "stake" a man who never yet hadturned an honest penny, yet held the quartermaster where he dare not sayso--where indeed he dare not say no.
"If you haven't it you know where you can get it--where you have oftengot it before, and where you'd better get it before it's too late;"these were words said to h
im that very morning, in tones so low thatnone but he could bear; yet they were ringing in his head now like theboom of some tolling bell. Time was when he had taken government moneyand turned it into handsome profit through the brokers of San Franciscoand Chicago. But, as Mr. John Oakhurst remarked, "There's only one thingcertain about luck, and that is it's bound to change," and change ithad, and left him face to face with calamity and dishonor. Where was heto raise the ten thousand dollars that must be sent to the postquartermaster at Warrior Gap? The end of the fiscal year was close athand. He dare not further divert funds from one appropriation to covershortages in another. He could borrow from the banks, with a goodendorser, but what endorser was there good enough but John Folsom?--thelast man now whom he could bear to have suspect that he was in straits.Folsom was reported to be worth two hundred thousand dollars, and thatlovely girl would inherit half his fortune. There lived within hiscircle no man, no woman in whose esteem Burleigh so longed to standhigh, and he had blundered at the start. Damn that young cub who daredto lecture him on the evils of poker! Was a boy lieutenant to shame himbefore officers of the general's staff and expect to go unwhipped? Wasthat butt-headed subaltern to be the means of ruining his prospectsright here and now when he stood so sorely in need of aid? Was the devilhimself in league against him, that that boy's sister should turn out tobe the closest friend old Folsom's daughter ever had--a girl to whomfather and daughter both were devoted, and through her were doubtlessinterested in the very man he had been plotting to pull down? Burleighsavagely ground his teeth together.
"Go and hurry that buggy," he ordered, as he crushed the sheet of paperon which he had been nervously figuring. Then, springing up, he beganpacing his office with impatient stride. A clerk glanced quickly up fromhis desk, watched him one moment with attentive eye, and lookedsignificantly at his neighbor. "Old man's getting worse rattled everyday," was the comment, as the crash of wheels through loose gravelannounced the coming of the buggy, and Burleigh hastened out, laboredinto his seat, and took the whip and reins. The blooded mare in theshafts darted forward at the instant, but he gathered and drew her in,the nervous creature almost settling on her haunches.
"Say to Captain Newhall when he gets back-that I'll see him thisevening," called Burleigh over his shoulder. "Now, damn you, _go_--ifyou want to!" and the lash fell on the glistening, quivering flank, andwith her head pointed for the hard, open prairie, the pretty creaturesped like mad over the smooth roadway and whirled the light buggy outpast the scattered wooden tenements of the exterior limits of thefrontier town--the tall white staff, tipped by its patch of colorflapping in the mountain breeze, and the dingy wooden buildings on thedistant bluff whirling into view as he spun around the corner where thevillage lost itself in the prairie; and there, long reaches ahead ofhim, just winding up the ascent to the post was a stylish team and trap.John Folsom and the girls had taken an early start and got ahead of him.
Old Stevens was up and about as Folsom's carriage drove swiftly throughthe garrison and passed straight out by the northeast gate. "I'll beback to see you in a moment," shouted the old driver smilelessly, as heshot by the lonely colonel, going, papers in hand to his office, andStevens well knew he was in for trouble. Already the story was blazingabout the post that nothing but the timely arrival of Dean and his menhad saved Folsom's ranch, and Folsom's people. Already the men,wondering and indignant at their young leader's arrest, were shoutingover the sutler's bar their paeans in his praise, and their denunciationof his treatment. Over the meeting of sister and brother at the latter'slittle tent let us draw a veil. He stepped forth in a moment and badehis other visitors welcome, shook hands eagerly with Loomis and urgedtheir coming in, but he never passed from under the awning or "fly," andFolsom well knew the reason.
"Jump out, daughter," he said to Pappoose, and Loomis assisted her toalight and led her straight up to Dean, and for the first time in thosetwo years the ex-cadet captain and the whilom little schoolgirl with theheavy braids of hair looked into each other's eyes, and in Dean's therewas amaze and at least momentary delight. He still wore his field rig,and the rent in the dark-blue flannel shirt was still apparent. He wasclasping Miss Folsom's hand and looking straight into the big dark eyesthat were so unusually soft and humid, when Jessie's voice was heard asshe came springing forth from the tent:
"Look, Nell, look! Your picture!" she cried, as with the bullet-marked_carte de visite_ in her hand she flitted straight to her friend.
"Why, where did this come from?" asked Miss Folsom in surprise, "andwhat's happened to it?--all creased and black there!" Then both thegirls and Loomis looked to him for explanation, while Folsom drove away,and even through the bronze and tan the boy was blushing.
"I--borrowed it for a minute--at the ranch just as Jake came in wounded,and there was no time to return it, you know. We had to gallop rightout."
"Then--you had it with you in the Indian fight?" cried Jess, inthrilling excitement. "Really? Oh, Nell! How I wish it were mine. Buthow'd it get so blackened there--and crushed? You haven't told us."
"Tell you some other time, Jess. Don't crowd a fellow," he laughed. Butwhen his eyes stole their one quick glance at Elinor, standing there insilence, he saw the color creeping up like sunset glow all over herbeautiful face as she turned quickly away. Lannion had told them of theclose shave the lieutenant had had and the havoc played by that bulletin the breast pocket of his hunting shirt.
