by Charles King
CHAPTER XI.
THE WOLF AND THE SHEEPFOLD.
The glorious Fourth has come and gone. The Centennial anniversary hashad its completed category of parade and picnic; speech and song; funand fireworks. The thronging cities of the East have rejoiced withunusual enthusiasm, especially Philadelphia, whose coffers are plethoricwith the tribute of visiting thousands. Out on the frontier we havecelebrated with modified _eclat_, since the national celebrants aremostly absent on active service, and have no blank cartridges to disposeof. The big garrison flags have been duly hoisted and saluted. Thetroops have been paraded where there were any to parade, as only a fewinfantrymen remain to take care of the forts and the families. TheDeclaration of Independence has been read in one or two of the biggerposts, where enough remains of defenders to make up a fair-sizeddemonstration. One of these is far up on the Missouri, where the cavalryladies are all invited to hear the infantry orator of the day--and go.No news has come for some time from husbands and lovers on the war-path,and it is best to be hopeful and cheery. They make a lovely picture, adozen of them in their dainty white dresses, their smiling faces, theirfluttering fans and ribbons. They applaud each telling point withencouraging bravos and the clapping of pretty hands. How free fromcare, how joyous, how luxurious is army life! How gleeful is theirsilvery laughter! How beaming the smiles with which they reward theyoung gallant who comes among them for their congratulations! _Vanitas,vanitatum!_ They are nearly all widowed, poor girls, but they don't knowit--not yet. The steamer laden with the wounded and the fell tidings ofdisaster is but a few hours away. Before the breaking of another daythere will be none to smile in all their number. Verily, "In the midstof life we are in death."
And Russell, too, has had its jubilee--on a more extensive scale, forhere are Webb and Truscott with their fine troops of horse, the band,the infantry companies, and a brace of old howitzers, with which theymake the welkin ring. No tidings of any account have come from thefront. The Gray Fox is puzzled at the situation. The Indians are outthere somewhere, as he finds every time a scout goes forth, but theyappear to be engrossed in some big council over at the Greasy Grass. Onething is certain, he can get no word through to Terry on theYellowstone, and he cannot afford another tussle with such force as theyshow when he does come out. The --th is still down near the Black Hills.Busy? Oh, yes. Busy is no word for it! They are scampering all over thesouth Cheyenne country after small bands of Indians, whose fleet ponieskeep them just out of range of the carbines and just out of reach of thehorses, who, grain-fed all winter, are now losing speed, strength, andbottom on the scant and wiry grass they find in the sandy valleys.Truscott and Webb are eager to go forward, but orders say wait. Mrs.Truscott is again almost in heaven. Jack has been with her nearly afortnight. They are domiciled in their new quarters. Mrs. Stannard istheir next-door neighbor; much of their furniture has come, and the armyhome is beginning to look lovely. Mrs. Whaling and Mrs. Turner can neversee enough of it, or say enough.
Large numbers of recruits have been sent to the post to be drilled andforwarded to the cavalry at the front. They are having riding-school allhours of the day, and the cavalry officers are in saddle from morn tillnight teaching them. Mr. Gleason is assiduous in this duty. WhateverCaptain Truscott has heard to the gentleman's discredit in the past, headmits to himself that it has prepared him for agreeable disappointment.No lieutenant could be more attentive or subordinate, more determined toplease. Captain Truscott cannot but wish that Mr. Gleason were lessattentive to Miss Sanford, but that young lady is evidently fully ableto keep him at a very pleasant distance. It excites the captain'sadmiration to see how perfectly lady-like, how really gracious is hermanner to the aspiring widower, and yet--how serenely unencouraging. Noone understood this better than Mr. Gleason himself. Finding her deeper,less impressionable than he at first supposed, he simply changed histactics. He avoided the store, he shunned conversations on dangeroustopics, he cultivated the society of Colonel Whaling, and deeplyimpressed that veteran with the depth of his information on dogs,horses, and military affairs. He dexterously lost small sums to the postcommander at pool and billiards; enough to keep the old gentleman incigars--and good-humor. He became "serious" in his conversation withthe colonel's amiable wife, whose exemplary habit it was to be alwaysfound seated at a little table behind a very big Bible when visitorscalled; though the garrison _did_ say, as garrisons will, thatoccasionally they had to knock or ring half a dozen times before thesummons could be heard; not because the good lady was so deeply plungedin religious meditation, but because the clatter of angry tongues madeall demonstration from without simply inaudible.
The long-suffering and short-serving domestics who successively reignedin the Whaling kitchen and chambers were wont to say that it was nag andscold from morn till dewy eve,--sometimes later,--and that in the midstof wrathful tirade the lady of the house would only be brought toinstant silence by the announcement of "some one at the door." A certainMiss Finnegan, who served a brief apprenticeship in the household,acquired lasting fame in the garrison for the mimetic power whichenabled her to portray "Mrs. Gineral's" instantaneous change from aposture of fury to one of rapt devotion. She could look like HecateHibernicized, and in one comprehensive second drop into a chair, "smoothher wrinkled front" and side curls, shake out her rumpled draperies, andrise from an instant's searching of the Scriptures with featuresexpressive of the very acme of Christian peace and benediction. "Mrs.General" was a pet-name the lady had won from a wifely and lovable traitthat prompted her to aggrandize her placid lord above his deserts. Himshe ever addressed (in public), and of him she ever spoke, as "thegeneral," irrespective of the fact that the rank was one he never had ornever would attain, even by brevet, for the Senate drew the line at theman who had been in the army through three wars and never heard ahostile bullet whistle. His regiment had not been required in theFlorida business. He himself was put on other duty when they went toMexico, and, finally, in the great war of the Rebellion, there wasconstant need of regulars to act as mustering and disbursing officers atthe rear. Such had been old Whaling's career, and, so long as he himselfwas utterly unpretentious,--never claimed to have done any war service,and was content to drift along and draw his pay,--nobody would have saidmuch in detraction had it not been for his wife's persistent pushing. Hewas merely second in command of his regiment, but the lady spoke of himas "the general" on all occasions, and alluded to his immediatesuperior, who had led corps and divisions in his day, as Colonel Starr.Others--of equal rank and with the brevets of major-generals--shesimilarly belittled. They were merely field-officers. She admitted theexistence of no greater man than "the general," her husband, andwhatever might be the sorrows of other parents with their children, orhousewives with their servants, Mrs. Whaling pitied,--evencondoled,--but could not sympathize. With uplifted eyes she would thankthe Giver of all good that He had blessed her with sons so noble anddistinguished, with daughters so lovely and so dutiful, with servants sosingularly devoted. In the various garrisons in which the good lady hadflourished, what mattered it that her boys were known to be gracelessyoung scamps whom cudgelling could not benefit, or that her gentledaughters squabbled like cats and flew to the neighbors to spread thetales of their wrongs and mamma's injustice? What mattered it that herparagons of servants left her one after another and swore they couldn'tstay in a house where there was so much spying and fault-finding? Therewas no shaking Mrs. Whaling's Christian determination to run withpatience the race thus set before her.
Gleason found in converse with her so much that reminded him of themother he had lost, alas! so many years ago, and Mrs. Whaling welcomedhim to the consolations of her sanctified spirit. Together they deploredthe frivolity and vices of the younger officers (Ray came in for a goodshowing-up just there, no doubt), and together they projected thereformation of some of her favorites in the garrison. A wise man wasGleason. She and her meek and lowly husband could be useful--very usefulin time of need. And did he abandon his devotions to Miss Sanford? No,
indeed! but they were modified as became the subject. He called lessfrequently; he became less personal, less aggressive in his talk; he hadnaught but good, or silence, for his comrades, and charity for theworld. He threw into his every look and word a deference and a respectthat made his manner proof against criticism; and yet, one and all, theycould not welcome him. Truscott, his captain, had never yet dropped the"Mr." before the surname of his subaltern,--that well-understood barrierto all army intimacy,--and Gleason, who stood among the very first onthe lineal list of lieutenants, hated him for the restriction, but gaveno sign.
It was necessary that some one of the cavalry officers should be placedin charge of the newly-arrived recruits, and this duty fell to Gleason'slot. It relieved him from service with his troop and made himindependent of his captain. Webb and Truscott, if consulted, would havenamed a far better instructor among their lieutenants, but ColonelWhaling issued the order from post headquarters, and there was nothingfor it but obey. Gleason lent his best efforts to the work, and he andhis drill sergeants were ceaseless in their squad instruction. Severalold cavalrymen had come among the dozens of green hands, so had a smallsquad transferred by War Department orders from West Point. Among thesemen were competent drill-masters, and among the drill-masters the mostactive and efficient was the Saxon soldier, Sergeant Wolf.
Mr. Gleason had invited the ladies to walk out on the prairie east ofthe post one lovely morning late in June, that they might see theskirmish drills of the two cavalry troops. Often as she had been aspectator before, Mrs. Truscott never tired of watching Jack and hismen, and Miss Sanford was greatly interested at all times in the martialexercises, especially the mounted. Strolling homeward about ten o'clock,having been joined by one of the young infantry officers, Mr. Gleasonsuggested their stopping at the store and refreshing themselves with alemonade. Miss Sanford would have declined with thanks, but silentlywaited for her hostess to speak; and Mrs. Truscott, who remembered howpapa had sometimes called her into the club-room when she was a child,and who knew that the garrison ladies frequently accepted suchinvitations, hesitatingly assented. It must be confessed that Mrs.Truscott sometimes acted before she thought, and this was one of thetimes. Truscott himself rarely, if ever, entered the club-room, and hadnever thought it necessary to say anything to his wife on the subject.The door stood invitingly open; the attendant was lolling thereat in hisshirt-sleeves admiringly scanning the approaching group. As soon as hesaw they were heading for the club-room instead of the gate, he slippedbehind the bar and put on his coat. Miss Sanford hung back as Mr.Gleason threw open the portals, and called out encouragingly,--
"Come right in, ladies; there's no one here but the bar-keeper."
Mrs. Truscott stepped lightly over the threshold, and glanced withsmiling curiosity around. The first thing that caught her eye was aplacard hanging at the entrance of a little alcove-like space beyond therusty old billiard-tables. Within were two or three green baize-coveredcard-tables and rude wooden chairs. On the placard, roughly stencilled,was the legend,--
"He who enters here leaves soap behind."
Mrs. Truscott's eyes expressed wonderment and mirth commingled.
"How utterly absurd! Who did that, Mr. Gleason?"
"That? Oh! That's some of Blake's work, I believe! Ah--are you notcoming in, Miss Sanford?"
"Thanks, no, Mr. Gleason; I believe I'll wait here," was the reply,pleasant but decided.
"Why, Marion! Do come in!" cried Mrs. Truscott, hastening to the door.
Miss Sanford's face was flushing slightly, but her voice was gentle asusual.
"I'll wait for you, Grace; but I do not care for a lemonade, and--wouldrather not go in."
"Indeed, I don't care for one either. I only said yes because I thought,perhaps, you would like it--or would care to see the club-room," Mrs.Truscott protested, as she hurriedly came forth. "We are just as muchobliged to you, Mr. Gleason, but--not to-day." And with that theyresumed their homeward stroll. Once through the gate Mr. Gleasonslackened the pace, so as to detain his fair companion a moment.
"Why would you decline my invitation?" he asked, in a tone of what wasintended to be tender reproach.
"I prefer not to visit--the club-room, as I believe it is called."
"You would soon get used to it if you were in the Army," he venturedawkwardly.
"But I am not in the Army," she began, self-restrainedly enough; then,as though she could not repress the words, "Nor would I be if, as yousay, I had to get used to that."
She has a temper then, quoth Gleason to himself, ruefully noting that hehad made a bad move. It gave him an opportunity of putting in what wasgenerally considered a pretty effective piece of work, however,--onethat had been often employed on somewhat similar occasions, and will beagain.
"Ah, Miss Sanford, were there more women like you, there would be fewerplaces like that."
But to this she made no reply whatsoever. If anything, its effect was toquicken her pace.
Arriving near their quarters, a small party of enlisted men, apparentlyrecruits, were observed clustered about a wagon loaded with boxes. Aspruce, handsome, blond-moustached young soldier stepped suddenly intoview from behind the wagon, where he had been superintending theunloading of some of the goods. At sight of him Miss Sanford stoppedshort. Looking wonderingly at her, Mr. Gleason saw that her face hadpaled, and that she was gazing intently on the approaching soldier andon Mrs. Truscott, who, absorbed in laughing talk with her escort, hadapparently not observed him. As he halted and saluted, Mr. Gleason couldnot but note that she started, then that she had flushed crimson. Heglanced quickly from one to the other,--the pale girl by his side, thestartled young matron in front, and the statuesque soldier, respectfullystanding with his hand at the cap visor.
"Pardon, madame; the quartermaster sends me to unload these boxes atCaptain Truscott's quarters, if madame will designate the room to whichthey shall be carried."
"The captain will be here in a moment," she replied, hurriedly, andmoving into the gate as though eager to avoid the very presence of thesoldier. "Oh! may I ask you in, gentlemen?" she added, glancing over hershoulder, and still evidently discomposed.
And Gleason followed.
The parlor was cool and pleasant after the hot sunshine without. Mrs.Truscott threw herself into a chair, then rose as hastily and went intothe dining-room beyond. Miss Sanford's eyes followed her anxiously asshe stood at the sideboard pouring out a glass of water.
"That man--er--Wolf, who came with this batch of recruits, tells me hewas first sergeant of Captain Truscott's troop at the Point," he said,tentatively.
"Yes. When did he get here, or how?"
"He came with recruits two nights ago; transferred from West Point withsome other men on the captain's application, as I understand it. Ipresume he is to be assigned to our troop."
And here the clatter of hoofs outside announced the captain's returnfrom drill, and Gleason soon took his leave, pondering over what he hadseen. What was the secret of Mrs. Truscott's evident uneasiness, if notagitation? what of Miss Sanford's visible annoyance?
It was very late that night when Miss Sanford sought her room. There hadbeen a drive to town during the afternoon, and a pleasant dance at thehop-room afterwards. Not once had she had an opportunity of speakingalone with Mrs. Truscott, nor was she quite certain of what she wishedto say even had the opportunity occurred. For several days previous totheir start from the Point, Sergeant Wolf, with others of the cavalrydetachment, had been constantly at the house packing goods andfurniture. Nothing could exceed the punctilious distance and respectwith which he addressed the ladies whenever occasion required that heshould speak to them at all; but Miss Sanford could not forget hismysterious conduct the night she discovered him at the front gate. Onceshe spoke with half-laughing hesitancy of the assiduity with which thesergeant devoted all his spare time to his captain's service, or tomadame's, and Grace had looked so annoyed that she ceased furthermention of him. She wanted to tell her of his being at the gate th
atnight, and his going around under the library-window, but it proved adifficult thing, and she postponed it from day to day. Then came thesudden departure of the sergeant and his party for New York, where theywere ordered to report at a recruiting rendezvous. Believing that theyhad seen the last of him she breathed freer, and decided to keep thestory of his midnight visit to herself, at least for a time; and nowhere he was again, and his coming had evidently startled her friend. Shewanted, above all things, to have a frank talk with Mrs. Truscott. Thiskeeping a secret from her was distressing, and she could not bear thethought of a possible cloud or misunderstanding between them, but poorGrace had totally forgotten the existence of such a person as Wolf bythe time they got home. She was having a little trouble of her own. Theywere strolling across the parade in the brilliant moonlight, Grace onher stalwart husband's arm, looking up in his face with all her soul inher eyes, chatting merrily over the events of the day. Miss Sanford wasamiably listening to the dissertation of an infantry friend uponastronomical matters, while Gleason was elsewhere escorting Mrs.Whaling. At the door Truscott looked back and hospitably invited theyoung officer to enter, but the latter doffed his cap and gallantly saidsomething to the effect, that all who entered left their hearts behind,and took himself off with the conviction that he had made a glowingimpression. It reminded Mrs. Truscott of the stencil inscription overthe local Inferno.
"Oh, Jack! Have you seen Mr. Blake's latest absurdity,--that slangyparaphrase of Dante at the club-room?"
"I heard of it," said Truscott, smilingly. "Who told you of it,Queenie?"
"Why!--I--saw it to-day," she replied, as though suddenly conscious thatshe had put her foot on forbidden ground. Then, as he said nothingwhatever, she went on in anxious explanation: "Mr. Gleason asked us into have a lemonade on our way from drill. You know the ladies often go,Jack."
"I know some of them do, Gracie."
"Ought we not to have gone--I mean, ought I not to have gone? for Marionwould not. Indeed, Jack, the moment I saw she had not come in I left atonce. Was it--are you vexed?"
"There's no great harm done, dear. I had not thought to warn you againstit, though I knew the others--some of them, went there at times."
"You mean you had not supposed it would be necessary, Jack."
And so, it must be admitted, he had; and poor Grace was in the depths asa natural consequence. It was the first time she had felt that he wasdisappointed in her, and though the matter was trivial and his lovingkiss and caress reassured her, she was plunged in dismay to think thatin entering the club-room with Mr. Gleason she had done what hedisapproved of, what, as a woman of refined breeding, she should haveshunned, and--what Marion _had_ declined. She was too much a woman notto feel that therein lay an additional sting; she was too gentle andloving a wife not to feel forlorn at thought of having disappointedJack. Some women would have resented the idea of his objecting to such athing. (No, fair reader, of course I don't mean you; but is it not justpossible I may be right in saying so of Mrs. ---- next door?)
Grace had kissed her friend good-night just a wee bit lessaffectionately than usual, and Marion well knew that husband and wifewere best left alone together, as the surest and speediest way ofsettling the affair. She, therefore, went to her room.
There were only two rooms up-stairs in the little army house, each withits big closet, a door connecting the two, and others opening out on thenarrow landing above the stairs; each with its sharply sloping roof anddormer-window. Grace had insisted on her guest's taking the front room,looking out on the parade as she had at the Point; but after muchlaughing discussion they settled it by pulling straws, as many aquestion had been decided in the old school days. This reversed theassignment, and the rear room became Miss Sanford's. The view from thewindow was not attractive. Immediately beneath was the shingle roofingof the dining-room and kitchen annex, stretching out to the servants'rooms and sheds beyond. The yard, like all its fellows, was bare andbrown, for nothing would grow on such a soil. Rough, unpainted woodenfences separated them one from another; rough cow-sheds, coal-sheds, orwood-sheds were braced up against the fences, and back of all the yardsalong the row ran a high rickety barrier of boards, as rough andunprepossessing as the others. Beyond this fence lay a triangular spaceof open prairie ornamented only by ash-barrels and occasional heaps ofempty cans awaiting the coming of the "police cart." Beyond this spacestood the big brown hospital on the north; the back-yards of thesurgeon's and sutler's quarters on the east; while the hypothenuse ofthe right-angled triangle thus limited was the unsightly fence thatbounded the back-yards of officers' row. Mr. Dick Swiveller's delightfulview "of over the way" was a gem of landscape in comparison.
But for such gloomy outlook Miss Sanford had little thought. She went tothe window to draw the curtain, and far out across the distant prairieslopes, where she could see them at all, the moon was throwing hersilvery beams, while closer at hand broad, irregular wastes of blacknesssailed over the dry plateau as the clouds that caused them driftedacross the dazzling face. Harsh and unlovely as were the surroundings byday, they lost something of their asperity under the softening shimmerof that mystic light. Far down by the stables she could hear the ringingwatch-call of the sentries proclaiming half-past twelve o'clock and allwell, and then--and then as a cloud floated away and the bright beamspoured down in unhindered radiance, she became aware of a form envelopedin a cavalry overcoat standing in the corner of the fence. She could seethe moonlight glinting on the polished insignia,--the crossedsabres,--on the front of his forage-cap, and though she could not seethe face, she knew it was that of Sergeant Wolf.
Captain and Mrs. Truscott were still below. She could hear them puttingout the parlor lamps and locking the doors. She could hear a quickfootstep on the hard-beaten walk in front and the clink of a scabbard,and knew it must be the officer of the day starting out to make hisrounds. So too, apparently, did the mysterious prowler in the back-yard.He stepped quickly out of the enclosure, and the next instant she couldsee the erect, soldierly figure moving rapidly away towards thenorthwestern entrance of the post, where lay the band's quarters.
