Part 6 (2/2)
”And neither old Madame Beaubien nor Mrs. Sutton with them? What was the old squaw thinking of?”
By this time they had neared the guard-house, where several of the men were seated awaiting the call for the next relief. All arose at the shout of the sentry on Number One, turning out the guard for the officer of the day. Chester made hurried and impatient acknowledgment of the salute, and called to the sergeant to send him the sentry who was at the bridge at one o'clock. It turned out to be a young soldier who had enlisted at the post only six months before and was already known as one of the most intelligent and promising candidates for a corporals.h.i.+p in the garrison.
”Were you on duty at the bridge at one o'clock, Carey?” asked the captain.
”I was, sir. My relief went on at 11.45 and came off at 1.45.”
”What persons pa.s.sed your post during that time?”
”There was a squad or two of men coming back from town on pa.s.s. I halted them, sir, and Corporal Murray came down and pa.s.sed them in.”
”I don't mean coming from town. Who went the other way?”
”Only one carriage, sir,--Mr. Sutton's.”
”Could you see who were in it?”
”Certainly, sir: it was right under the lamp-post this end of the bridge that I stood when I challenged. Lieutenant Rollins answered for them and pa.s.sed them out. He was sitting beside Mr. Sutton as they drove up, then jumped out and gave me the countersign and bade them good-night right there.”
”Rollins again,” thought Chester. ”Why did he keep this from me?”
”Who were in the carriage?” he asked.
”Mr. Sutton, sir, on the front seat, driving, and two young ladies on the back seat.”
”n.o.body else?”
”Not a soul, sir. I could see in it plain as day. One lady was Miss Sutton, and the other Miss Beaubien. I know I was surprised at seeing the latter, because she drove home in her own carriage last evening right after parade. I was on post there at that hour too, sir. The second relief is on from 5.45 to 7.45.”
”That will do, Carey. I see your relief is forming now.”
As the officers walked away and Sloat silently plodded along beside his dark-browed senior, the latter turned to him:
”I should say that there was no way in which Mr. Jerrold could have gone townwards last night. Should not you?”
”He might have crossed the bridge while the third relief was on, and got a horse at the other side.”
”He didn't do that, Sloat. I had already questioned the sentry on that relief. It was the third that I inspected and visited this morning.”
”Well, how do you know he wanted to go to town? Why couldn't he have gone up the river, or out to the range? Perhaps there was a little game of 'draw' out at camp.”
”There was no light in camp, much less a little game of draw, after eleven o'clock. You know well enough that there is nothing of that kind going on with Gaines in command. That isn't Jerrold's game, even if those fellows _were_ bent on ruining their eyesight and nerve and spoiling the chance of getting the men on the division and army teams. I wish it _were_ his game, instead of what it is!”
”Still, Chester, he may have been out in the country somewhere. You seem bent on the conviction he was up to mischief here, around this post. I won't ask you what you mean; but there's more than one way of getting to town if a man wants to very bad.”
”How? Of course he can take a skiff and row down the river; but he'd never be back in time for reveille. There goes six o'clock, and I must get home and shave and think this over. Keep your own counsel, no matter who asks you. If you hear any questions or talk about shooting last night, you know nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing.”
”Shooting last night!” exclaimed Sloat, all agog with eagerness and excitement now. ”Where was it? Who was it?”
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