by Charles King
CHAPTER VIII.
And so Ned Lawrence got back to Worth to find it far livelier than whenhe left it. The stage with its joyous escort had come trundling in justbefore tattoo, and first and foremost the returning wanderer was drivento his own doorway and left for half an hour with Ada and Jimmy--the onesobbing with joy, the other laughing with delight--on the father'sknees. Then Mrs. Blythe stole in to bid them to the waiting supper, and,pending Lawrence's reappearance somewhere along the line, the officersgathered in low-voiced groups discussing the startling event of theevening. Bralligan, raging for the blood of the double-dashed,triple-adjectived hound who had assaulted him, had been lugged home bytwo or three of his kind, consoled by Captain Mullane with the assurancethat he'd see that the preacher gave him full satisfaction in themorning, for, with native love of a ruction, Mullane stood ready to bearthe subaltern's challenge, even though his better nature told him theducking was richly deserved: with Irish honor in question, Mullane wasfor fight. Frazier and Brooks, of course, said the seniors present,must not be allowed official knowledge of what had taken place, thoughin those benighted days of magnificent distances from the centre ofcivilization and the exploring grounds of reporters of the press, many astirring row was settled without its ever being heard of beyond thelimits of the garrison in which it occurred. Captain Barclay, contentinghimself with the one blow, despite an unchristian impulse to follow itup with a kick at the sprawling figure, had stood calmly by whenBralligan's associates lifted him, half stunned, to his feet, then,addressing himself to Mullane, with just the least tremor in his voiceand twitching to his muscles, remarked, "Of course you know what led tothis, sir. If your lieutenant desires to follow it up, you can find meat my quarters." Then, looking very deliberately around upon the littlecircle of flushed or pallid faces,--there were only five officerspresent,--he slowly turned, walked away, and shut himself in his room.
A light was still burning there when Brayton tiptoed in at half-pastten. He, with several other cavalrymen, had been sitting in the major'sparlor, listening to Lawrence's tale of His experiences in Washington.Winn had rejoined the party late, and one glance at his face was enoughto tell Brayton that somewhere he had heard of the fracas at theclub-room. Brayton's boyish heart was bubbling over with pride anddelight in this new and unlooked-for side to his captain. Every day ofhis service with that officer only served to strengthen the regard andadmiration Brayton felt for him. Barclay had made no pretence of being acavalryman on the strength of his assignment to that arm. He startedwith the assertion that he had everything to learn, and then surprisedhis subaltern by an extensive knowledge of what we then called "thetactics." He was certainly not as much at home in saddle as on foot, anddid not pretend to be, but he was by no means a poor or ungracefulrider. He had a light, gentle hand, at least,--a thing much harder formost men to acquire than a good seat. He was very cool, just, andlevel-headed with the members of the troop, not a few of whom thought to"run it" on the "doughboy" captain; but all such projects had flattenedout within the fortnight after his coming. Barclay might not knowhorses, but he did know men, and the first sergeant was the first tofind it out,--the new captain calmly and almost confidentially pointingout to him, after ten days of apparently casual glancings over themess-room and kitchen, that the men were not getting their properallowance of coffee, and that the savings made on the rations did notall go where they belonged.
"Boy an' man, sorr," began Sergeant Sullivan, oratorically and with fineindignation, "I've sarved in the dragoons or cavalry the best fifteenyears of me life, and this is the furrst time me honor's been calledinto account. I shall tindher me resignation at wanst."
"I have had its acceptance in contemplation for some days, sergeant,"was the calm response. "But first we'll overhaul the accounts."
"Currnel Larns's, sorr, would niver have treated an ould soldier in thisway."
"That, I fear, is true," was the imperturbable response, "and as aconsequence the colonel appears to have been robbed right andleft,--your own name being brought into question. That will answer forthe present, sergeant."
And when the troop heard that Denny Sullivan had been "broke" and was tobe tried by court-martial for thieving, great was the comment excited,and the men began to wonder what manner of doughboy was this, after all,that had come to them,--the doughboy that ould Denny had so confidentlycounted on running to suit himself. But this didn't begin to be all. Avery acute trailer was Galahad. Those were days in which only asubaltern, and not always even a subaltern, was expected to appear atmorning stables; but the new captain liked to rise early, he said. Hewas up with the sun or earlier, and hoof- or wheel-tracks about thestables before the herd was led forth to water never escaped hisattention, yet apparently never excited remark. Within the third week,however, another non-commissioned officer was suddenly nabbed, and sowas a wagon-load of forage, going off to a neighboring ranch at fouro'clock in the morning. Meantime the men noted that their coffee andrations were better and more bountiful, and soldiers are quick toreceive impressions that come by way of the stomach. "The new captain isknocking out the old abuses," said they, and it was wonderful how soonthe ex-doughboy made his way into their good graces. There had been somedisposition on the part of the wits in other companies to refer toBarclay's men as "The Parson's Own" when it was announced that thecaptain had attended the chaplain's evening service, but even that wasbeginning to die out, when all of a sudden it was noised abroad thisevening that the redoubtable Bralligan had been felled by a single blowof that Quaker fist.
Brayton was fairly quivering with excitement this night of nights, andcould not sleep. He longed to see his captain and hear his version ofthe affair, but the door was tightly closed instead of being invitinglyopen, and he dared not intrude. Not one word had been said about thematter at the major's, but Brayton knew it would soon be known even tothe officer in command. So long, however, as it was not reported to himofficially, Frazier would probably let the affair take its course.Bralligan deserved the knock-down, and doubtless would be glad enough tolet the matter end there. But, thought Brayton, if he should demandsatisfaction, and Barclay's religious or conscientious scruples were toprevent his acceptance, "_then_ comes my chance," for the youngsterhimself proposed to take it up. He had no scruples. He had been longingfor a chance to kick that cad Bralligan for over a year, and after allit was Barclay that got it.
Eleven o'clock, and Barclay's light still burned. Eleven-thirty, andstill, reading or writing, the captain seemed occupied in the old pokerroom, and the door remained closed. Once or twice Brayton heard himmoving about, and in his own excitement and interest the boy found itimpossible to think of anything else. Twelve o'clock came. He wasbeginning to undress and prepare for bed, still uneasily watching thelight shining through the crack of the door, when his straining earscaught the sound of a footfall underneath his window. It opened on theyard, and the sill was only five feet or so above the ground. A hand wasuplifted without and tapped gently on the sash, and as Brayton drewaside the curtain Harry Winn's face was revealed in the moonlight.
"Come to the porch in front," he muttered low. "I must speak with you."
Brayton was out on the dark piazza in half a minute. He found Winnnervously pacing the boards.
"I told my wife I had to come out and think quietly awhile," he said, ashe extended a hand to his silent classmate. "She heard of this--thisdamnable business almost as quick as it happened. That girl of ourshears everything and tells anything. There's no doubt about it, Isuppose. You were there? You heard it at once, didn't you? Whatdoes--_he_ say?" And Winn's nod indicated that he meant Barclay.
"Nothing," said Brayton, briefly. "I haven't seen him----"
"But he's up. The light's in his window. He's writing--or something.Look here, Brayton, you know what's got to come of this. That damnedIrishman must challenge him, or be cut and kicked about by all his kindin the cavalry. It isn't Barclay's fight; it's mine. The more I think ofit the more I know that, contemptible a blackguard as Bralliga
n is, heis still an officer of the regiment. He has been knocked down, and hasthe right to demand the only satisfaction there is for a blow. You knowit as well as I do. What I've got to do right here and now is to takethat fight off Barclay's hands, and you've got to help me."
"S'pose he don't want it taken off his hands," said Brayton, sturdily."He told him plain enough he was ready to meet any demand----"
Winn reddened even in the pallid moonlight. "I say no man in thisgarrison fights on my wife's account except me--or with me. They're upwith Bralligan now, two or three of them, and I want you to go therewith me at once as my witness. I mean to cowhide him to-night. Then ifhe wants a meeting in the morning, I'm his man." And as he spoke Winnthrashed nervously at the railing with the stout whip he carried in hishand.
"That won't fix it," answered Brayton, "and you ought to have senseenough to know it. Barclay has the precedence. The Mick couldn'tchallenge you until he'd fought him--or been refused a fight. You go tobed, Winn," and Brayton spoke even lower. "Your wife must have heard youjust now, and first thing you know Barclay will hear you, and"--withalmost comical irrelevance--"you don't want to meet him this way, whenyou haven't even called on him."
Winn reddened again. There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone as heanswered,--
"Don't trouble yourself about Mrs. Winn's hearing. She's placidlyasleep--long ago. As for my not calling, you know I've only been out ofmy bed three days or so, and Captain Barclay must understand that a manburdened as I have been is in no mood for social observances. This isall begging the question. You're the only man I can ask to be my second.Finish your dressing now and come."
"Winn, I won't do it," said Brayton, with flatfooted decision. "This ismy captain's affair, and, from what I've seen of him since he joined,I'm bound to say what's his is mine. Besides, you've got no businessmixing up in the matter. You've got your wife to think of, and you'vegot that commissary business to straighten out. Barclay and I have noencumbrances of either kind." At the moment, I fear me, the younggentleman could have added, "Thank God!" for, with all his appreciationof the physical perfections of his classmate's wife, Mr. Brayton waskeenly aware of her many extravagances.
"Of course I've a wife," answered Winn, hotly. "It's because of her Ifeel bound to take this up. As for that commissary money, every centwill be here to square the shortage, whether I am or not. I'll tell youwhat others---- No! I can't even tell you, Brayton. But an old friend ofmy father's has offered his help. Now, once more, will you come or not?"
"No, Winn. You know well enough I'd see you through if---- Hush! There'sMullane and some one else coming out of his quarters now."
"Then, by God! I'll go alone," exclaimed Winn, "and it's got to be donebefore they get away." And he would have gone springing down the steps,but Brayton seized and held him.
"For God's sake, Harry, be quiet to-night. Don't go near him. Quiet,man! Can't you see? Those fellows are coming this way now!"
True enough, Mullane and his companion, who had issued from the fourthset of quarters down to the left, turned northward the moment theyreached the walk, the moonlight gleaming on the buttons of their uniformfrock-coats, but the sight and faint sound of scuffling on Winn's porchseemed to attract their attention. They stopped as though toreconnoitre, and just then the front door of Brayton's hall opened wide,and, with the broad light at his back, Captain Barclay stepped quietlyforth.
"Brayton," he said, "you left the door ajar, and it was impossible notto hear the latter part of this conference.--Mr. Winn, I presume," hecontinued, with calm, courteous bow, as the two young men, unclasping,turned and faced him. "I infer that you purpose going to Mr. Bralligan'squarters--now. Let me urge that you do nothing of the kind. Brayton isright. I see that, late as it is, some of their party are moving thisway. Pray remember that as yet this is entirely my affair."
There was no time for other answer than a bow, a mumbled word or two, anembarrassed acceptance of the hand extended by the captain. Just as hesaid, Mullane and his friend were coming rapidly up the walk. Theypassed the Winns' gate, entered that of Brayton, and then it appearedthat Mullane's friend was the ubiquitous Hodge, that Mullane wasmanifestly in his glory, and that both were perceptibly in liquor.
"Gintlemen," said the doughty captain, halting at the foot of the stepsand raising his forage-cap with magnificent sweep, "gintlemen, I am thebeerer of a missige from me frind Mr. Bralligan. Have I the honor ofaddhressin' Captain Barclay?" Fondly did Mullane imagine that heimpressed his hearers as did Sir Lucius O'Trigger; and much did heremind one of them, at least, of Captain Costigan of blessed memory.
"This is Captain Barclay," that gentleman answered, in low tones, witha smile of amusement at Mullane's grandiloquent prelude, yet steppingquickly forward to meet the envoys. Winn could not but note that thecaptain's movement accomplished at once two objects. It left him andBrayton in the shade; it kept Mullane and Hodge in the moonlight and offthe steps. "Pardon my suggesting that a lady sleeps in the front roomaloft there, and that you speak low, so as not to disturb her. Where isyour message?"
This was trying. Mullane loved his chest tones as he did his whiskey.His low voice was apt to be thick and husky and unimpressive, andto-night he was over-weighted with the sense of the gravity andimportance of his mission, if with nothing else.
"Sorr," he said, with another flourish of the cap, "in accordince withthe practice of gintlemen in the old arrumy, I am the bearer of averrbal missige----"
The Quaker captain had already amazed the old dragoon sergeants by theintricacy and extent of his knowledge of their manners and customs. Nowcame a surprise for the officers.
"Pardon my interrupting," he said. "I do not assume to instruct in suchmatters, but there is manifestly only one kind of message 'according tothe customs of the old army,'" and here he smiled quietly, "that shouldcome from Mr. Bralligan now, and it must come in writing. I decline torecognize any other." Here Brayton nudged Winn approvingly, but thesubalterns maintained a decorous silence.
"I've niver hurr'd of a challenge being refused on that account," saidMullane, majestically, "and if me wurreds are not sufficient, here's mefrind Mr. Hodge----"
"Your words are not brought into question, Captain Mullane, but themanner of your message is. Let your friend put it in writing, and itwill be received. Good-night to you, sir."
And, to Mullane's utter amaze and confusion, quickly followed by anexplosion of wrath, Captain Barclay coolly turned and walkedwithin-doors.
"Hould on dthere!" cried Mullane, as he started to spring up the steps,but Brayton stepped in front of him, and Hodge nervously grabbed hisarm. Neither knew much of the "code" of the old days, but each hadlearned that Barclay rarely made a mistake. Winn, too, tall and strong,stepped in front of the angry Irishman as he broke out into expletives."No more of that here, captain," he cried, forgetful of anyconsideration of rank. "This noise will wake the post. Rest assuredyour principal will get all the fight he wants;" and then, with growingwrath, for Mullane was struggling to come to the steps, "so will you, byGod, if you advance another foot."
"Winn--Winn, for heaven's sake, I say!" cried Brayton, seizing theuplifted arm. "Go home, Mullane. Damn it, you're in no shape to handlesuch a matter to-night. Go home, or I swear I'll call the officer of theday. He's coming now!" he exclaimed; and it was true, for the sound ofexcited voices had reached the adjoining quarters, and out from thedoorway, sashed and belted, came the massive form of Captain Blythe, hissabre clanking on the door-sill. Out, too, from Winn's hallway shot abroad beam of light, and hastening along the porch came a tall, gracefulform in some clinging rose-tinted wrapper, all beribboned and fluffy andfeminine. The men fell away and Mullane drew back as Mrs. Winn scurriedto her husband's side and laid her white hand on his arm. Forth again onthe other side of Winn came Barclay, and his deep tones broke the suddensilence.
"Captain Mullane, leave this spot instantly," he ordered, stern and low."I'll answer to you in the morning."
"Come out of this, Mullane," demanded
Blythe, striding in at the gate."Delay one second, and I'll order you under arrest."
Up slowly went Mullane's cap with the same incomparable sweep. "In theprisince of leedies," said he, "I'm disarrumed. Captain Barclay, I'llsee ye in the marrnin'."
But when the marrnin' came both Mullane and his principal, besidebewildering headaches, had graver matters to deal with than even a verypretty quarrel.
