Part 14 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIV
UNDER ARREST
One by one the barrack lights went out as the tired troopers sought their beds. Hamlin extinguished his also, and only one remained burning, left for emergency near the door, which flung a faint glow over the big room. But the Sergeant's reflections kept him awake, as he sat on the foot of his bed, and stared out of the open window into the darkness. There was little upon which to focus his eyes, a few yellow gleams along officers' row, where callers still lingered, and the glow of a fire in front of the distant guard-house, revealing occasionally the black silhouette of a pa.s.sing sentinel. Few noises broke the silence, except the strains of some distant musical instrument, and a voice far away saying good-night. Once he awoke from revery to listen to the call of the guards, as it echoed from post to post, ceasing with ”All well, Number Nine,” far out beyond the stables.
The familiar sound served to recall him to the reality of his position.
What was the use? What business had he to dream? For months now he had kept that girl's face before him, in memory of a few hours of happiness when he had looked into her dark eyes and heard her pleasant speech. Yet from the first he had known the foolishness of it all. He was nothing to her, and could never become anything. Even if he cleared his past record and stepped out of the ranks into his old social position, the chances were she would never overlook what he had been. Her grat.i.tude meant little, nor her pa.s.sing interest in his army career. All that was the natural result of his having saved her life.
He possessed no egotism which permitted him to think otherwise. Years of discipline had drilled into him a consciousness of the impa.s.sable gulf between the private and the officer's daughter. The latter might be courteous, kindly disposed, even grateful for services rendered, but it must end there. The Major would see that it did, would resent bitterly any presumption. No, there was nothing else possible. If they met--as meet they must in that contracted post--it would be most formal, a mere exchange of reminiscence, grat.i.tude expressed by a smile and pleasant word. He could expect no more; might esteem himself fortunate, indeed, to receive even that recognition. Meanwhile he would endeavor to strike Le Fevre's trail. There were other interests in the world to consider besides Molly McDonald, and his memory drifted away to a home he had not visited in years. But thought would not concentrate there, and there arose before him, as he lay there, the face of Lieutenant Gaskins, wearing the same expression of insolent superiority as when they had parted out yonder on the Santa Fe trail.
”The cowardly little fool,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, gripping the window frame. ”It will require more than his money to bring her happiness, and I 'll never stand for that. Lord! She 's too sensible ever to love him. Good G.o.d--what's that!”
It leaped out of the black night---three flashes, followed instantly by the sharp reports. Then a fourth--this time unmistakably a musket--barked from behind officers' row. In the flare, Hamlin thought he saw two black shadows running. A voice yelled excitedly, ”Post Six!
Post Six!” With a single leap the Sergeant was across the sill, and dropped silently to the ground. Still blinded by the light he ran forward, jerking his revolver from the belt. As he pa.s.sed the corner of the barracks the sentry fired again, the red flash cleaving the night in an instant's ghastly vividness. It revealed a woman shrinking against the yellow stone wall, lighted up her face, then plunged her again into obscurity.
The Sergeant caught the glimpse, half believing the vision a phantasy of the brain; he had seen her face, white, frightened, agonized, yet it could not have been real. He tripped over the stone wall and half fell, but ran on, his mind in a turmoil, but certain some one was racing before him down the dark ravine. There had been a woman there!
He could not quite blot that out--but not she; not Molly McDonald.
If--if it were she; if he had really seen her face in the flare, if it was no dream, then what? Why, he must screen her from discovery, give her opportunity to slip away. This was the one vague, dim thought which took possession of the man. It obscured all else; it sent him blindly cras.h.i.+ng over the edge of the ravine. He heard the sentry at his right cry hoa.r.s.ely, he heard excited shouts from the open windows of the barracks; then his feet struck a man's body, and he went down headlong.
Almost at the instant the sentry was upon him, a gun-muzzle pressing him back as he attempted to rise.
”Be still, ye h.e.l.l hound,” was the gruff order, ”or I 'll blow yer to kingdom come! Sergeant of the guard, quick here! Post Number Six!”
Hamlin lay still, half stunned by the shock of his fall, yet conscious that the delay, this mistake of the sentry, would afford her ample chance for escape. He could hear men running toward them, and his eyes caught the yellow, bobbing light of a lantern. His hand reached out and touched the body over which he had fallen, feeling a military b.u.t.ton, and the clasp of a belt--it was a soldier then who had been shot. Could she have done it? Or did she know who did? Whatever the truth might be, he would hold his tongue; let them suppose him guilty for the time being; he could establish innocence easily enough when it came to trial. These thoughts flashed through his mind swiftly; then the light of the lantern gleamed in his eyes, and he saw the faces cl.u.s.tered about.
”All right, Mapes,” commanded the man with the light. ”Let the fellow up until I get a look at him. Who the h.e.l.l are you?”
”Sergeant Hamlin, Seventh Cavalry.”
”Darned if it ain't. Say, what does all this mean, anyhow? Who's shot? Turn the body over, somebody! By G.o.d! It's Lieutenant Gaskins!”
Hamlin's heart seemed to leap into his throat and choke him; for an instant he felt faint, dazed, staring down into the still face ghastly under the rays of the lantern. Gaskins! Then she was concerned in the affair; he really had seen her hiding there against the wall. And the man's eyes were open, were staring in bewilderment at the faces. The Sergeant of the guard thrust the lantern closer.
”Lift his head, some o' yer, the man's alive. Copley, get some water, an' two of yer run fer the stretcher--leg it now. We 'll have yer out o' here in a minute, Lieutenant. What happened, sir? Who shot yer?”
Gaskins' dulled eyes strayed from the speaker's face, until he saw Hamlin, still firmly gripped by the sentry. His lips drew back revealing his teeth, his eyes narrowing.
”That's the one,” he said faintly. ”You 've got him!”
One hand went to his side in a spasm of pain, and he fainted. The Sergeant laid him back limp on the gra.s.s, and stood up.
”Where is your gun, Hamlin?”
”I dropped it when I fell over the Lieutenant's body. It must be back of you.”
Some one picked the weapon up, and held it to the light, turning the chambers.
”Two shots gone, Sergeant.”
”We heard three; likely the Lieutenant got in one of them. Sentry, what do you know about this?”