Part 16 (1/2)

Wearied and shattered though he was and replete as the night had been with anxiety and vigil, Drummond climbed the goat-track that led to the sentry's perch feeling full of hope and pluck and fight. He and his men had divided the night into watches, one being awake and astir, not even permitting himself to sit a moment, while the others slept.

The fact that he was able to send back to the caves, have an ambulance hitched in and driven down to where Wing lay wounded, and to bear him slowly, carefully, back to shelter, reaching the caves without further molestation before darkness set in, had served to convince the young commander that he could count on reasonable security for the night. Unless they know their prey to be puny and well-nigh defenceless, Apaches make no a.s.sault in the darkness, and so, with the coming of the dawn, he had about him fit for service a squad of seven troopers, most of them seasoned mountain fighters. His main anxiety now was for Wing, whose wound was severe, the bullet having gone clear through, just grazing the bone, and who, despite the fact that f.a.n.n.y Harvey early in the night had every now and then crept noiselessly in to cool his fevered head, seemed strangely affected mentally, seemed unnaturally flighty and wandering, seemed oppressed or excited alternately in a way that baffled Drummond completely, for no explanation was plausible. Two or three times during the night he had been heard moaning, and yet the moment Drummond or, as once happened, Miss Harvey hastened to his side, he declared it was nothing. ”I must have been dozing and imagined the pain was greater than it was.” Awake and conscious, so stout a soldier as he would be the last to give way to childish exhibition of suffering, yet twice Drummond knew him to be awake despite his protestation of dozing, and he did not at all like it that Wing should bury his face in his arms, hiding it from all. What could have occurred to change this buoyant, joyous, high-spirited trooper all on a sudden into a sighing, moaning, womanish fellow? Surely not a wound of which, however painful, any soldier might be proud.

Somewhere along towards four o'clock, when it was again Patterson's watch and Drummond arose from his blanket after a refres.h.i.+ng sleep of nearly two hours and he and his faithful sentry were standing just outside the mouth of the cave, they distinctly heard the same moan of distress.

”Is there nothing we can do to ease the sergeant, sir?” whispered Patterson. ”This makes the second time I have heard him groaning, and it's so unlike him.”

”We have no opiates, and I doubt if he would use one if we had. He declares there is no intense pain.”

”Well, first off, sir, I thought he was dreaming, but he was wide awake, and Miss Harvey came in only a moment after I got to him. Could those devils poison a bullet as they do their arrows, and could that make him go into fever so soon?”

”I hardly think so; but why did you say dreaming?”

”Because once it was 'mother' he called, and again--just now--I thought he said mother.”

The lieutenant turned, looking straight at his soldierly subordinate.

”By Jove! Patterson, so did I.”

There was a little stir across the canon. Moreno was edging about uneasily and beginning to mutter blasphemy at his bonds.

”That fellow begged very hard to be moved down into that wolf-hole of a place where the Mexican women are, lieutenant, with those two bunged-up bandits to take care of. Nice time we'd have, sir, if the three of them was able to move. The boys'd make short work of them now, the way they're feeling. I went in and took a look at those two fellows. One of 'em is a goner, sure, but they're dead game, both of 'em. Neither one has a word to say.”

”No,” answered Drummond, ”they refused to give their names to me,--said it was no earthly consequence what name we put over their graves, the right set of fellows would be along after a while and do them all the honor they cared for. How were the Moreno women behaving?”

”The girl was asleep, I should judge, sir. The old hag was rocking to and fro, crooning to herself until one of the two--the live one, I should call him--hurled a curse at her in Spanish and told her to dry up or he'd kill her. All a bluff, for he can't move a peg.”

”Watch them well, Patterson, all the same. Hus.h.!.+”

Again from within the deep shelter of the rocky cave came the low moan of anguish,--

”Mother! mother! if you knew--”

”Here, Patterson, I can't stand this. I'm going in to him.” And, picking up the dim lantern which he had taken from the Harvey wagon, Drummond stole in on tiptoe and knelt again beside his wounded comrade.

”Wing! sergeant! Look up, man. Speak to me. You must be in distress, mental or bodily. Do let me help you in some way.”

For a moment no reply whatever. Wing's face was hidden. Then he looked gently upward.

”Lieutenant, I'm ashamed to be giving you so much trouble. Please go and lie down again, sir; you're worse hurt than I am,--only I suppose I get to dozing off and then turn on that side.”

”No, it isn't that, sergeant. There's something wrong, and it has all come on you since yesterday morning. Where is your mother?”

Again Wing turned away, burying his face in his arms.

”Listen, sergeant; we hope to get you out of this by to-night. Dr.

Gray ought surely to reach us by that time, and while we may have to keep up a field hospital here a day or two, my first duty will be to write and tell your mother how bravely you have served us, and she shall be told that you are wounded, but not in such a way as to alarm her.”

Out came a restraining hand.

”Lieutenant, she must not know at all.”