by Charles King
CHAPTER XXII.
Turner and his men were gone all night, all the next day, and much ofthe night that followed. Then they began drifting back in squads ofthree or four. By noon the second day the captain himself, with themain body, returned, dispirited, mystified. They had lost the trailnear the Picacho, found it again, lost it, found it, scoured thefoothills and scouted the east face of the Mazatzal, and came backempty-handed. Willett's pistol was the only thing recovered, even withsuch aid as could be rendered by some of the Sanchez party, Munoz andJose being most energetic in their aid--"'Patchie" Sanchez being, ofcourse, nowhere visible. 'Patchie had affairs of his own to answer forand explain against the homeward coming of the Big Chief Crook, and wasshy of Saxon society in consequence.
And Turner was plainly nettled and chagrined. He and his troop wereabout as expert trailers as could be found in our cavalry, which, inthe old Arizona days, meant not a little. Turned believed that 'Toniohad dared to venture close to the sentry line, had lured his enemy tothe fords, and there, aided by one or two of his band, had done himnear to death, then fled for the fastnesses of the mountains. Turnerbelieved that 'Tonio, or one of his people, was wounded and could beovertaken. The trail was easy as much as a mile down stream, and thenbecame difficult. Turner had accepted the proffered aid of Munoz andcertain of their set. They were all up, it seems, by the time hereached the ranch, having been routed out earlier by the firstexplorers from the post, Sergeant Connelly and party, who stated thatthey found the "hull outfit asleep," this in spite of the fact that agame seemed to have been going on earlier in the night, for theparaphernalia were in evidence, also a moderate supply of liquidmescal.
Now mescal in those days was not distilled north of the Gila--wasbrought by devious route, when brought at all, from Mexico, and"Greaser" packers, who were models of temperance when only Gringowhiskey or German beer could be had, would sometimes stampede at themere whisper of mescal. Yet here was mescal, and here were some, atleast, of the Sanchez "outfit," sober and fit for business. Then itmust be that the three who lay stupefied had had money to invest atmonte, and had been plied with mescal until both cash and consciousnesshad left them, and all this would account for the sudden hegira fromthe store the evening preceding the shooting.
But in spite of their vehement assertions that 'Tonio had beensignalling that very day--that they could point to the tracks ofhimself and his fellows in several places along the stream--theseenergetic and swarthy sons of the Incas could by no means find 'Tonio,or one of his tribe, when given the chance to lead and the backing ofarmed troopers. 'Tonio, well or wounded, was far too wary for them and,after hours of brag and bluster, not a vestige of him did they discoverbeyond a few scattered footprints and that one revolver, concerningwhich, it seems, Munoz told sensational tales. He declared he had foundit glinting in the moonlight just at the foot and to the right of thetrail leading from the low ground to the summit of Squadron Peak. Hisstory, indeed, was so positive and plausible that valuable time hadbeen lost while some of Turner's most active troopers scaled the heightin search of the fugitives whom Munoz thought more than likely must bethere, and Jose had agreed with him. Once well up among the rocks ofthe Mazatzal, after sunrise, these valued allies became bewildered andgave out, were handed a canteen and ration of crackers apiece and leftto limp back to the shack, while Turner pushed on. They were at thestore, recuperating, when his people reappeared at Almy, and each hadderisive and uncomplimentary things to say of the other. Moreover,there was internal dissension among the Mexicans themselves. Dago'sdisgust with Munoz seemed rekindled, while the sore-headed trio, doneout of their money by aid of mescal, were slinking about the shack,looking unutterable things. When rogues fall out honest men profit, ifthey are wise and wakeful, and now, at a time when something ofadvantage might be learned, the interest of the garrison seemed centredabout the general's quarters, whither Harold Willett had been borne,still senseless and in desperate case. Bentley could not say that hewould live, yet had been heard to say he believed the bullet not yetcast that could kill him.
There had been a difference between Archer and his surgeon. The shackwas no place for a patient in such a plight. It was on low ground, hotand stuffy in spite of high ceilings. Bentley wished him borne onelastic litter to hospital. Archer said bear him to his quarters, Mrs.Archer _would_ have it, and it was so ordered and done. Bentley wishedto find that bullet, the blunt, old-fashioned, soft lead plug, and findit he had, lying fortunately close under the skin, after traversingseveral inches of Willett's anatomy without piercing a vital organ. Itwas cut out with little time or trouble, and set aside, sealed forfuture reference. Fever, of course, set in, and where, asked Archer,could more devoted nurse or nurses be found, and, in the absence of thepatient's own mother, what woman had better right?
It wasn't so much _that_, said poor Bentley, as that they might overdoit--wear themselves out, and the patient, too. Willett was babbling infeverish delirium when his litter was borne into the general's darkhallway, and the patient thence to the white cot prepared for him,where Mrs. Archer and Mrs. Stannard at first were installed as nurses.Bentley shook his head over the arrangement, and later he spoke of itto Harris who sat thoughtful, troubled and ill at ease.
Bentley had told him of the discovery of the revolver and the universalconnection of 'Tonio with the attempted murder, and Harris bowed hishead wearily upon his hands: "I will not believe it," was all he said.
A sergeant and six men had gone with despatches and orders to find thefield column along the Black Mesa. A runner had been sent to McDowellwith the news, and another to Camp Sandy, where was Colonel Pelham, thedistrict commander, giving details of the attempted assassination ofthe young staff officer, and warning all to arrest 'Tonio on sight. Theaffair was the one topic of talk in every barrack room, mess, andgathering at the post, and the subject of incessant comment andspeculation at the store. That 'Tonio was the culprit no man was heardto express the faintest doubt. There were some who went so far as tosay that _any_ man, officer, soldier or civilian, who dared to strikean Indian of 'Tonio's lineage had nothing less to expect. The onequestion was, how had 'Tonio succeeded in luring his victim, unarmed,to the spot, and why had he left his vengeance unfinished? The one manalong officers' row to express dissent from public opinion wasLieutenant Harris; the one man at the store to sit in unresponsivesilence was Mr. Case--the bookkeeper.
Busy with his books, making up for the lost time, he said, sitting longhours at his desk, within earshot of almost everything, and hearingevery theory expressed, he never so much as opened his lips upon thesubject further than to say that, from all accounts, the lieutenantbrought it on himself, and should never have ventured out alone, muchless unarmed.
"You didn't like him any too well yourself," bluntly hazarded Bonner,two days after the tragedy, and, somehow, a rumor of a row between themat the doctor's quarters was again in circulation.
"I didn't," said Case, imperturbably. "But that score is settled."
In the course of the prompt investigation made by Archer during thedaylight hours that followed the affray, Bentley had deemed it a dutyto tell the commander of the disturbance between Willett and Case,ascribing it to Case's vinous excitement after some transaction atcards, and though Archer believed the bookkeeper totally innocent ofany part in the distressing affair that followed, both he and Bentleybelieved it due to everybody that Case's possible connection with it belooked into. With Craney they visited Case's own sanctum in the storebuilding not two hours after the sound of the shot. There in itsaccustomed place was Case's revolver, every chamber loaded and a thincoating of dust on the grip. Case's pistol then had not been used.Bentley went in and examined the medicine glass--this was toward fouro'clock--and apparently Case must have taken, said Bentley, at leastfour doses. That much at any rate was gone, and Case was sleeping soheavily he could hardly be roused--could hardly be kept awake, beggedthickly, sluggishly, to be allowed to "sleep it off," as though hethought he must have been drinking again. Bentley bro
ught out one ofCase's boots, and the track it fitted could be found all over theflats, about the store, shack and stream, and proved nothing at all,for everybody knew he had been wandering aimlessly about for days andnights past. The window shade or blanket had been disarranged and thewindow had been raised a few inches, probably for air. Everything elsewas as Craney remembered seeing it before he turned in, and theinference was clear to every mind that Case had never left the room andprobably, after the second dose, never left his bed.
And now, from Turner down, all troopers lately afield in search of'Tonio were again at Almy, discomfited, disheartened. "Hunting for aneedle in a haystack without a magnet," said Turner, "is no morefruitless than scouting for Apaches in these mountains without Apachescouts. There is only one way," said he, "to capture 'Tonio. 'Set athief to catch a thief; set an Indian to catch an Indian.'" But the fewIndian scouts assigned to Almy had all been drafted away with Stannardand the field columns in the Mogollon. "Even had they been available,"said Archer, who listened with gloomy brow, "Harris says noApache-Mohave would betray 'Tonio, and no Apache-Yuma dare do it," andnow, as never before, Archer had taken to long talks with Harris--whowould gladly have had him keep away.
"Youngster," said Bentley, looking his patient keenly over the secondday after what had come to be called "the shooting," "I'm blessed ifI'm not getting discouraged on your account. Here I have had you withinreaching distance of 'fit for duty' twice, and both times you've goneback on me. It's my belief- you'd be better anywhere else than here.Almy's too high strung for your temperament."
"Get me once in saddle and I won't come back--or go back on you," saidHarris. "How's Willett?"
"High fever, tossing and talking--talking too damned much! You'resitting up much of the time day and night now. You need air and change,yet cannot stand jarring, or I'd take you driving."
"Let me ride a mule."
"I would, if I were sure of the brute behaving, but you never can tellwhat a mule will do, and now--there's no telling what Willett may say."
"What do you mean?" asked Harris, though he had some reason to know.
"Just this. He's muttering about matters none of us now want to hear,and want none of the Archers to hear. I've got Mrs. Archer out for atime, and going to get Mrs. Stannard in for a time, but there's thatpoor child upstairs going all to pieces for fear that beautiful boy maydie, when--it's--it's--_damn_ it, it's my profound conviction it wouldbe the best thing that could happen!" and with that Bentley turnedabout and strode heavily out of the house.
Just at sunset that winter's evening, when all the eastward heightswere a blaze of gold, and the far away fringe of the Mogollon wastipped with fire, and the rounded poll of Squadron Peak shone dazzlingagainst the southward sky, the lookout on the scaffolding above theoffice set up a shout that brought half the garrison to its feet.
"Horsemen coming! McDowell road!"
It so happened that, just at the moment, Mrs. Stannard was walkingslowly and thoughtfully from the direction of the hospital to herlonely roof. She had been to see Mrs. Bennett, whose general conditionappeared a little more favorable, but who lay long hours moaning forthose she had lost. Turner, coming in from the corrals, had joined Mrs.Stannard for a moment, but at sound of the alarm raised his cap andhurried straightway to the southward bluff. It might even mean a mail.The days were long to Mrs. Stannard and the nights were weary, for oneanxiety followed another, and now, when she had so hoped that all mightbe gladness and sunshine for the sweet, unspoiled army girl, to whomher heart had so fondly opened, here at the very outset of her dream oflove and delight, the grim Destroyer threatened, and even if Fateshould spare the life of Harold Willett was it at all certain that thatlife would be what Lilian Archer deserved?
All in three minutes that afternoon, while bending over the unconscioussufferer, replacing with cool, fresh linen the heated bandages on hisbrow, she had heard words that she fain would have stifled--that causedher to look up, startled, into Bentley's sombre face. She was thinkingof the sorrows that encompassed her as she came slowly home, and then,as the cry sounded from the lookout station, and people came hurryingto their galleries, and Harris slowly felt his way to the open door,she noted how pallid and sad and worn was the keen young face, and,forgetful of her troubles, turned to say a word of cheer to him.
"It used to mean the mail," said she, smiling brightly for his benefit,"but now no man can tell what a day may bring forth," she quoted. "Theletters _I_ most want would be coming from the east. What would youhave coming from the west?"
"Anything to bring me word of 'Tonio," he answered, adding, though notfor her ear, "and take me out of this." She stepped to the gallery andfrankly took his hand, looking kindly, gravely at him with her sweetblue eyes.
"You are not doing well, Mr. Harris. You are fretting too much, I fear.Tell me. You believe in 'Tonio thoroughly, don't you? So did CaptainStannard, and so should I. Do you believe he would have tried tokill--Mr. Willett?"
"Mrs. Stannard, I _know_ he would not!"
"Then I wish to ask you--something--something else. Was there--_is_there--any one who could--who would--_well_, who--had any reason?"
For a moment he stood gazing at her, paler even than before, his sternyoung face full of strange emotion.
"You have some reason for asking that, Mrs. Stannard," he said, almostbelow his breath. "You have heard--tell me; has he--has Willett toldyou anything?"
"Nothing that connects any one with this crime, and yet, while I cannottell you, and the doctor may not, I'll promise you this, Mr. Harris. Ifever 'Tonio is accused and in danger, Mr. Willett has something toexplain, and if he doesn't, then Dr. Bentley and I may have to."
With that, almost abruptly, as though dreading further question, Mrs.Stannard turned away.
Thirty minutes later, dusty and weary, five troopers rode slowlythrough the southward willows, across the sandy flats and up the slopeto the adjutant's office, while the garrison, neglecting its eveningmeal, swarmed out to greet them. Six saddle-bags were crowded withletters and papers--the first in a fortnight--and the sergeant-majorand his clerks went busily to work sorting out the mail, while Archerand his officers eagerly questioned the sergeant in charge. They weremen of Captain Freeman's troop, all out scouting from McDowell. Theycamped last night at Silver Springs, fifty miles south-west, and cameon from there while the captain and the troop turned back to the VerdeValley. No, they had neither seen nor heard of hostile Indians. Allsuch seemed to have cleared out, for the time being at least. Had theymet the Almy couriers on their way? Not one. They had come the lowertrail by way of Standard Peak, where they had a signal station andguard now, where they left mail and rations for them, and then pushedon over into the valley. The Almy couriers took the short cut. No, theyhad seen nobody but some Mexicans, and hadn't much to say to them,'cause Sanchez--'Patchie Sanchez--had been caught and was in theguard-house at McDowell, charged with being mixed up in the shooting ofSergeant Graves. That, at least, was welcome news. Had anything beenheard of General Crook? Yes, something. Apache-Mohave runners came into the bivouac at Silver Springs, with despatches, before they left,and that was one reason the captain turned back. One of them waswounded. They'd had a scrimmage with Tontos, they said, but got throughsafely, barring just this one--'Tonio they called him--said he was achief of the old tribe.
"'Tonio there, and wounded!" cried Archer, while Strong and Bonneralmost sprang to their feet, in surprise.
"'Tonio, sir, certainly," said the sergeant. "The doctor had himdressing his wound when we came away. It was only slight."
"Then," said the general, "by this time they've got my despatches, and'Tonio's a doomed Indian!"