"And did he not?" asked Mrs. Archer, after one quick glance at Lilian's averted eyes.
"Why, no," and now Mrs. Stannard hesitated; "I saw, at least I think I saw, him coming up from the river a little while ago. He may have been following 'Tonio's trail, you know. It was easy enough in the sand, they said, but once it reached the rocks along the stream-bed they lost it." Then wisely Mrs. Stannard changed the subject.
But if she and they knew not where and how Willett had spent the night and hours of the day, they and Harris, by this time, were the only ones at Almy in such ignorance. Moreover, Almy was having a lot of fun out of it. No one had ever heard of Case's playing before in all the time he had silently, unobtrusively, gone about his daily doings at the post. Three weeks out of four he sat over the books and accounts, or some writing of his own, saying nothing to anybody unless addressed, then answering civilly, but in few words. The other week, just as quietly and unobtrusively, he was apt to be busy with his bottle, sometimes in the solitude of his little room, sometimes wandering by night down along the stream, sometimes stealing out to the herds, petting and crooning to the horses, sometimes slyly tendering the herd guard a drink, and always accompanied by a pack of the hounds, for by them he was held in reverence and esteem. He never accosted anybody, never even complained when a godless brace of soldier roughs robbed him of his bottle as he lay half-dozing to the lullaby of the babbling stream. He simply meandered a mile and got another.
From this plane of inoffensive obscurity Case had sprung in one night to fame and, almost, to fortune. A single field had turned the chance of war, and the placid Sunday found him the most talked of man at the post. Rumor had it that he had quit five hundred dollars ahead of the game, and the most conservative estimate could not reduce it more than half. For the first time Camp Almy awoke to the conclusion that an experienced gambler was in their midst—one who had spared the soldier and his scanty pay that he might feed fat, eventually, on the officer. Rumor had it that Case's trunk contained a roulette wheel and faro "layout." In fine, long before orderly call at noon, in the whimsical humor of the garrison, he was no longer Case, the bookkeeper, but "Book, the Case Keeper," and every frontiersman, civil or military, in those days knew what that meant.
And even as they exalted Case, who toward afternoon had disappeared from public gaze, refusing to be lionized, so would they have abased Willett, who likewise had concealed himself, on the plea of needed sleep, yet had done but little sleeping. Willett was haunted by a memory, and not pleasantly. The fact that he had lost over a month's pay troubled him less by far than that he had lost repute. He had suffered much in pocket, but more in prestige. He had been a successful player in the Columbia country, too much so for the good of scores of comrades, but especially himself. He could have found it in his heart to throttle that guffawing clown, whose rude bellow of rejoicing over Case's brilliant bluff and his own defeat, had brought even the dago and his fellows in staring wonderment to the open door. He would have pledged another month's pay could he have throttled the story he knew now would be going the rounds. He was even more humiliated—far more—than they knew. They all would have shouted had they seen the hand he laid down, but he had striven to carry it off jocosely, to say he had only been bluffing, and was very properly caught at his own game. Oh, he had shown a game, sportsman-like front, and had striven to pass it all off as a matter that worried him not in the least, but Craney, clear-headed, believed otherwise, and Case, muddle-headed as he was by noon, knew better, and had his reasons for knowing—reasons as potent as were those that moved him wholly to ignore Willett's half-proffered hand.
Case had nothing in particular to do all day, and could sleep if so minded. Willett, not knowing what moment he might be called upon to take active part in stirring service, should sleep, and so prepare himself, yet could not. Case's personality, and Case's one reference to Vancouver, two years previous, haunted and vexed him sorely. Where and under what circumstances had he seen the man? Only for three weeks had he been at the fine old post referred to, while a big court-martial was there in session, and he, with other subalterns, had come as witnesses. There had been dinners and dancing and fun and flirtation, both at the post and in Portland. There had been card-playing in which he was easy winner, and not a little of his winnings had gone for wine. There had been foolish things said in pink little ears, and even written in silly missives that now he would have been glad to recall, but—but no harm to him as yet had come from them. There had even been a girl whom he had never seen before nor since that visit, nor wanted to see again, nor hear from, yet from her he had heard, and more than once—piteous, imploring little letters they were. But, heavens! he was busy hunting Indians when they began to come, and then they had ceased to find him, rather to his relief, but none of these episodes or epistles in any way included Case, yet somewhere he had seen him, somewhere he had heard his voice, and somewhere Case had marked his method of play. Case said Vancouver, but though two or three steep games had there or thereabouts occurred—games in which his soldier comrades had withdrawn as too big for them—he, with his luck and brilliancy, had dared to pursue to the end and came out envied as a winner. And still this did not seem to point to Case.
Not two hours' sleep did Willett get that Sunday morning. He was awake, hot, feverish, and athirst at noon, craving ice, which could be seen in the mountains only a day's march away, but had never yet been made to last through the homeward journey. Craney brought him a cool and dripping canteen and some acetic acid, the best he could do, and had proffered bottled beer, cooled in the big olla and retailed at fifty cents, but Willett sought information rather than sleep, and indirectly inquired as to Case's antecedents. Inferentially, he wished Craney to understand that he believed Case to be a professional, and Craney blamable for permitting him to play. Craney saw the move and checkmated at once. "Case has had dozens of chances to play—dozens of 'em—since I brought him here from Prescott, and never before has he sat into anything bigger'n a dollar limit. He never would play in the other room. He came out as quartermaster's clerk, nearly two years ago. With whom? Why, Major Ballard brought him out and had to turn him loose for drinking. No, Ballard was never at Vancouver. Then my bookkeeper got shot in a pay-day row and left the books in a muddle. I had to hire Case to come and balance them—best accountant and bookkeeper I ever had—square to the marrow, though he wants one week off a month, and is absolutely stalwart t'other three, but he will not talk of his past. Ballard told me he came with tiptop letters from officers of rank in San Francisco, who said he was incorruptible, even when he drank, whereas my clerk, who had been a model of sobriety, robbed right and left. Case has gone off now, somewhere down among the willows, I reckon. He'll be drunk for three days, sobering three days, and straight the seventh. If you hadn't started him last night he'd be sober now. And if you hadn't come into it that family game would have stopped at one, with nobody the worse nor wiser. You said you had no use for a dollar limit game."
There was no comfort, therefore, in Craney's visit. Willett took another cool bath, dressed about two, and being shown the path Case generally followed, sauntered away, quite as though he had nothing on his mind, and was presently lost beyond that same willowy screen. He at that time, at least, was not thinking of 'Tonio and the lost trail.
At five the general, with Strong and Bonner, could be made out four miles away, riding back from the peak. "I'll go a moment and inquire for Mr. Harris," said Mrs. Archer, "and ask the doctor when we may visit him." So, leaving Lilian with Mrs. Stannard, and intending to be gone but a few minutes, the gentle, anxious-hearted woman, sunshade in hand, went forth from the shelter of the low veranda into the slanting, unclouded rays, and presently tapped lightly at the doctor's open door. There was no answer, yet from somewhere within came sound of masculine voices. Entering the dark hall, she tapped again at the entrance to the doctor's sitting-room, or den. A Navajo blanket hung like a portière across the open space, for door there was none, and, as no one
came in answer to her modest signal, she ventured to push the curtain a bit to one side and peer within. The room was but dimly lighted, all windows but one on the north side being heavily draped. The doctor's reclining chair and reading table, the latter littered with books, pamphlets and pipes, were visible through a reminiscent haze of not too fragrant tobacco smoke, for the old predominated over the new. A rude sideboard stood over against her, between the northward windows, and thereon was stationed a demi-john of goodly proportions, with outlying pickets in the way of glasses. Bentley himself, though one of the old school, was an abstemious man, and therefore enabled to have at all times a supply of reliable stimulant for such of his callers as were of opposite faith. That some of that ilk had recently favored him was presumptively evident, no more by the sideboard display than by the sound of voices from an inner room, where two or three were uplifted in discussion, and neither was the doctor's.
Now, Mrs. Archer much wished to see young Harris, to assure him of their deep interest in his welfare, of their desire to be of service to him, and their reason for not earlier intruding. Gentle and unselfish though she was, there was distinct sense of chagrin that Mrs. Stannard, or any woman, should have anticipated her coming. The doctor had promised to say just how soon he could approve her seeing his patient, and it was the doctor's fault she had come no sooner. Not until days thereafter did she know that Harris had asked for Mrs. Stannard. Not for even a Christmas home-going would Mrs. Stannard have let her know it—but Mrs. Stannard was a rare, rare woman.
But if the doctor thought it unwise that his patient should receive the visits of ministering angels such as she and they, what, said Mrs. Archer to her stupefied self, could Dr. Bentley mean by permitting the visits of such disturbers as these whose angering words came distinctly to her ears? She stood, half-dazed, unable for a moment to determine what to do—whether to enter at once—enter, and in the name of her husband, the commanding officer, enter emphatic protest against such exciting language at such a time, in such a presence—or whether to retire at once and hear no more of it. One voice, at the moment low and guarded, was that of a stranger—she had never heard it before. The other, however, she knew instantly as that of Harold Willett. No wonder she stood amazed, never doubting they were addressed to Harris, at the first words—Willett's words—to reach her ears!
"You are in no condition now to talk to a gentleman, and I refuse to listen. You came here to lie about me—to undermine me, and I know it, and the quicker you go——"
"I came here to speak God's truth and you know it!" came the instant answer, and in instant relief she knew it was not the voice of Harris. "As to undermining—by God, it's to block your undermining another and a better man I've come! If that isn't enough for you—to block your doing here—what you did to that poor girl at Portland——"
But a rush and a scuffle, the sound of a blow, broke in upon the words, just as the attendant, affrighted, came running out, just as Dr. Bentley, astounded and indignant, came hurrying in. Mrs. Archer, in bewilderment, fell back into the sunshine, only presently to see Willett, flushed and furious, hasten forth from the rear door and turn straightway to the adjutant's quarters adjoining—only to be overtaken in a moment by the attendant, panting: "The doctor said would Mrs. Archer please come back one minute, he'd like to speak with her." And Mrs. Archer turned again and went.
CHAPTER XII.
Ten minutes later, when the general and his little escort came dustily into the garrison, his first question on dismounting was for Willett, and it was Lilian who had to answer that she believed he was at Mr. Strong's. So thither, with but brief, though kindly, word with Mrs. Stannard, and as brief an expression of his satisfaction that Mrs. Archer had gone to see Harris, the veteran took his way. The horses were led to stables. The other officers, hastening homeward, bowing in hurried, perfunctory fashion to the ladies, turned again at sound of his voice, and all three together entered the adjutant's house, an orderly remaining at the door. Lilian looked anxiously after them and Mrs. Stannard inquiringly. "They have seen something, I know," said the girl, "and something father is puzzled about. He would not have come and gone without a kiss." Already Mrs. Stannard had noted his fond custom, had marked its omission now when, ever since luncheon, he had been away, and she, too, divined that he was preoccupied, even perplexed. But once already she had too quickly spoken her thoughts, and there must be no more of that. In three minutes the little party came forth again, Willett with them now, and, field-glasses in hand, away they strode to the northward edge of the plateau and went speedily along toward a point at the back of the hospital where there stood a little platform, railed about with untrimmed pine, a rustic lookout much affected by the men in the long evenings, but seldom visited when the sun was up. It took no time at all for half the remaining garrison to turn out and, at respectful distance, stand curiously watching them, and little more for the other half to come flocking out of doors. "Seen somethin' from way up on the Picacho," explained the orderly, as he jogged by with the heated horses, "an' came back akiting!"
Two minutes more and the adjutant, Strong, came running from the platform. "Don't unsaddle," he shouted. "Bring those horses back and get some more! Send the escort up here at once!"
The officers at the lookout had not even unslung their pistol belts, and Willett now was seen to set down his binocular and start away. The general called to him and he half turned and hurriedly answered: "Back just as quick as I can get my Colt, sir." He was unfastening his blouse at the throat as he went, and even at the distance men could see how hot and flushed he looked, while the others seemed so hard, "tried out" and fit for anything. Presently the half dozen horsemen, who had been with their chief to the Picacho, came trotting forth from the corral, followed by two or three led horses. Strong mounted the first to reach him and sent another to his quarters for Lieutenant Willett. Then Captain Bonner came strolling back as though quite unconcerned. "May as well get the men under arms," said he to his alert first sergeant, and away went every man of Company "C" on a run for the barracks.
"Needn't wait for Willett," the general was heard calling to Strong, who, with a little party, sat in saddle eagerly awaiting orders. So down the slope they went, just as the doctor and Mrs. Archer, apprised in some way of the excitement, came forth and saw the dust cloud in their wake, and the snorting troop horse pawing the sand in front of Strong's. Old Bucketts, the quartermaster, came limping up the line, his florid features a deeper red, and all he could tell in answer to question was, "They see something beyond the Point. Who's that horse for, orderly?"
"Loot'nt Willett, sir—said he'd be out in a minute."
But the minutes proved long, and Bucketts went in to help, if need be, and to get information, if possible. Willett had kicked off his fine uniform trousers and ununiform Oxfords, and was cursing the striker who had hidden his scouting rig. "Why the devil didn't you go as you were?" asked Bucketts unsympathetically. "They're raising the dust far as the ford already. What's up, anyhow?"
"Can't tell! Don't know! Nobody knows! They send scouts out—couriers out—messengers out, and spend hours wishing somebody'd come with news, and then when somebody's seen coming get rattled and send half the garrison out to meet——"
But suddenly catching sight of the disapprobation on his caller's face, Willett broke off short. No wonder Buckett's looked astonished at such language from a staff officer. Nor was that veteran questioner long in sizing up the cause. It added nothing to his respect for Willett, and not a little to his concern. He knew by this time, as did almost every man except the post commander, how and where Willett spent the night and morning—knew that he had left the store only an hour or so previous, as though to follow and find the bookkeeper—knew that Case had been drinking, and saw now that Willett had been following suit. Without a word on that head, or another question as to the causes of the excitement, he stumped about the premises, busying himself in hunting for the missing items, and presently found them hanging under a ca
lico curtain that Willett had already nearly torn down in unsuccessful, unseeing search. "Here you are," he said, tossing the garments on the bed. "Here's your pistol, Colt's 44; every chamber loaded and ready for business. You'll use a different belt when you've been a month in Arizona—and you'll shed top boots for 'Patchie moccasins. Let me help you, Willett. You're a bit blown. Here, douse your head in that——" and as he spoke Bucketts half filled a bowl and went limping out to the olla for more and cooler water, leaving Willett fussing at his riding breeches and damning Strong's striker for being away among the gaping, staring, empty-headed gang at the bluff at the moment he was most needed.
As Bucketts was lifting the vessel from the cool depths of the hanging reservoir, he heard his name faintly called, and there, at the side door of the doctor's quarters, pale and suffering, barefooted and mantled with a sheet, his arm and shoulder bandaged, stood Harris.
"Tell Willett to come out," he said. "I must see him before he goes."
"You go back to bed. I'll tell him," but Harris stood his ground despite the fact that the attendant had laid a hand upon his unbound shoulder, and was begging him to return. Bucketts set the pitcher inside the door. "Here's cooler water, Willett," he said, "and here's Harris at the door—says he must see you before you start."
Then, without waiting for answer, the quartermaster hurried along the path to the front in search of the doctor; saw him far over back of the hospital, heading for the platform; saw Mrs. Archer, on her own veranda by this time, in eager talk with Mrs. Stannard, and Lilian drooping at the corner pillar; hurried back to get his stick and to further rebuke Harris, when, afar down to the south-east came the sound of a shot, half-muffled by distance, and, gazing from the rear end of the little gallery, he saw, a mile or more away across the stream and skirting the willows, two horsemen coming at top speed; saw, emerging from the willows at the near side of the ford, a man who walked heavily through the yielding sand, holding his hand to his face. He, too, had heard the shot and was making, 'cross lots, for home. It was Case, the bookkeeper, disturbed, perhaps, said Bucketts, in his siesta among the willows and doing his best to gain shelter. Before Case could get a fourth of the way across the barren flat, tacking perceptibly among the cactus and grease wood, the riders burst in sight again and went lashing away to the store—two ranchmen or prospectors, said Bucketts, and they've been having the time of their life getting in. 'Tonio said the Tontos were all about them, and here was additional proof. The last Bucketts saw of Case he was lurching on toward the store, but, just then, buttoning his riding jacket and girding on his revolver belt, out came Willett.
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