Part 8 (2/2)

There was no answer from the strong soldier standing observant at his elbow. But when the chief would have moved Armstrong detained him. ”One more question, General. In case you were away and wanted something you had left in this tent, you would send an aide--or orderly, or--would an order signed by one of your staff be sufficient?”

”H'm, well--yes, I suppose it would,” said the General.

CHAPTER XII.

Opinion was divided at Camp Merritt as to whether Billy Gray should or should not stand trial. Confident as were his friends of his innocence of all complicity in Morton's escape, there remained the fact that he had telephoned for a carriage, that a carriage had come and that a carriage with four men, apparently soldiers, had driven rapidly townward along Point Lobos Avenue. It was seen by half a dozen policemen as it shot under electric light or gas lamp. Then there was the bundle inside his rolled overcoat that Gray had personally handed Morton when a prisoner.

Everybody agreed he should have sent it by orderly--everybody, that is, except some scores of young soldiers in the ranks who could see no harm in it having been done that way, especially two ”Delta Sigs” in the --teenth. Then there were the long conferences in the dark. What did they mean? All things considered the older and wiser heads saw that, as the lieutenant could or would make no satisfactory explanation of these to his colonel, he must to a court--or take the consequences.

”You've made a mess of the thing and an a.s.s of yourself, Billy,” was Gordon's comprehensive if not consolatory summary of the matter, ”and as Canker has been rapped for one thing or another by camp, division and brigade commanders, one _after_ another, he feels that he's got to prove that he isn't the only fool in the business. You'd better employ good counsel and prepare for a fight.”

”Can't afford it,” said Billy briefly, ”and I'm blowed if I'll ask my dear old dad to come to the rescue. He's had to cough up (shame on your slang, Billy) far too much already. I tell you, Gordon, I'm so fixed that I can't explain these things unless I'm actually brought to trial.

It's--it's--well--you have no secret societies at the Point as we do at college, so you can't fathom it. I'm no more afraid of standing trial than I am of Squeers--and be d----d to him!”

”Good Lawd, youngster--you--you aren't quite such an a.s.s as to suppose a court is going to regard any schoolboy obligation as paramount to that which your oath of office demands. Look hyuh, Billy, your head's just addled! _I_ can't work on you, but somebody must!”

And Gordon went away very low in his mind. He liked that boy. He loved a keen, alert, snappy soldier on drill, and Billy had no superior in the battalion when it came to handling squad or company. The adjutant plainly saw the peril of his position, and further consultation with his brother-officers confirmed him in his fears. Schuyler, the brigade commissary, being much with the --teenth--messing with them, in fact, when he was not dancing attendance on Miss Prime--heard all this camp talk and told her. Thus it happened that the very next day when he drove with the cousins (Mr. Prime being the while in conference with the detectives still scouring the city for the young deserter, who the father now felt confident was his missing boy), Miss Lawrence looked the captain full in the face with her clear, searching eyes and plumped at him the point-blank question:

”Captain Schuyler, do Mr. Gray's brother-officers really consider him in danger of dismissal?”

”Miss Lawrence, I grieve to say that not one has any other opinion now.”

There could be no doubt of it. Amy Lawrence turned very pale and her beautiful eyes filled.

”It is a shame!” she said, after a moment's struggle to conquer the trembling of her lips. ”Has--is there no one--influential enough--or with brains enough” (this with returning color) ”to take up his case and clear him?”

They were whirling through the beautiful drive of the Golden Gate Park, pa.s.sing company after company at drill. Even as Amy spoke Schuyler lifted his cap and Miss Prime bowed and smiled. A group of regimental officers, four in number, stood, apparently supervising the work, and as Miss Lawrence quickly turned to see who they might be, her eyes met those of Colonel Armstrong. Five minutes later, the carriage returning drew up as though by some order from its occupants, at that very spot. Armstrong and his adjutant were still there and promptly joined them.

Long weeks afterward that morning lived in Stanley Armstrong's memory. It was one of those rare August days when the wind blew from the southeast, beat back the drenching Pacific fogs, and let the warm sun pour upon the brilliant verdure of that wonderful park. Earth and air, distant sea and dazzling sky, all seemed glorifying their Creator. Bright-hued birds flashed through the foliage and thrilled the ear with their caroling. The plash of fountain fell softly on the breeze, mingled with the rustling of the luxuriant growth of leaf and flower close at hand. It was not chance that brought the stalwart soldier instantly to Amy's side. Her gaze was upon him before the carriage stopped, and irresistibly drew him. The man of mature years, the hero of sharp combats and stirring campaigns with a fierce and savage foe, the commander of hundreds of eager and gallant men, obeyed without thought of demur the unspoken summons of a girl yet in her teens. There was a new light in her clear and beautiful eyes, a flush upon her soft and rounded cheek, a little flutter, possibly, in her kind and loyal heart. Heaven knows his beat high with an emotion he could not subdue, though his bearing was grave and courteous as ever, but about that sweet and flus.h.i.+ng face there shone the halo of a woman's brave determination, and no sooner had be reached the carriage side than, bending toward him, she spoke. Mildred Prime could not repress a little gasp of amaze.

”Colonel Armstrong, will you kindly open the carriage door? I want to talk with you a moment.”

Without a word he wrenched the handle and threw wide the door. Light as a bird she sprang to the ground, her fingers just touching the extended hand. Side by side they strolled away across the sunlit lawn, he so strong, virile, erect, she so lissome and graceful. Full of her purpose, yet fearful that with delay might come timidity, she looked up in his face:

”Colonel Armstrong, I have heard only to-day that Mr. Gray is in really serious danger. Will you tell me--the truth?”

Just what Armstrong expected it might be hard to say. The light that had leaped to his eyes faded slowly and his face lost something of the flush of robust health. There was a brief pause before he spoke as though he wished time to weigh his words.

”I fear it is true,” he gravely said. Then in a moment: ”Miss Lawrence, will you not take my arm?” And he felt her hand tremble as she placed it there. It was a moment before she began again.

”They tell me he should have counsel, but will not heed. I have not seen him to-day. There is no one in his battalion, it seems, whom he really looks up to. He is headstrong and self-confident. Do you think he should--that he needs one?” And anxiously the brave eyes sought the strong, soldierly face.

”It would seem so, Miss Lawrence.”

She drew a long breath. She seemed to cling a little closer to his arm.

Then--straight came the next question:

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