by Charles King
CHAPTER VII
"WOMAN-WALK-IN-THE-NIGHT"
The dawn of another cloudless day was breaking and the dim lights atthe guard-house and the hospital burned red and bleary across thesandy level of the parade. The company cooks were already at theirranges, and a musician of the guard had been sent to rouse his fellowsin the barracks, for the old-style reveille still held good at many apost in Arizona, before the drum and fife were almost entirelyabandoned in favor of the harsher bugle, by the infantry of ourscattered little army. Plume loved tradition. At West Point, where hehad often visited in younger days, and at all the "old-time"garrisons, the bang of the morning gun and the simultaneous crash ofthe drums were the military means devised to stir the soldier from hissleep. Then, his brief ablutions were conducted to the accompanimentof the martial strains of the field musicians, alternating the sweetairs of Moore and Burns, the lyrics of Ireland and Auld Reekie, withquicksteps from popular Yankee melodies of the day, winding up with agrand flourish at the foot of the flagstaff, to whose summit the flaghad started at the first alarum; then a rush into rattling "doublequick" that summoned the laggards to scurry into the silently formingranks, and finally, with one emphatic rataplan, the morning concertabruptly closed and the gruff voices of the first sergeants, inswift-running monotone, were heard calling the roll of their shadowycompanies, and, thoroughly roused, the garrison "broke ranks" for thelong routine of the day.
We have changed all that, and not for the better. A solitary trumpetersteps forth from the guard-house or adjutant's office and, at theappointed time, drones a long, dispiriting strain known to the drillbooks as "Assembly of the Trumpeters," and to the army at large as"First Call." Unassisted by other effort, it would rouse nobody, butfrom far and near the myriad dogs of the post--"mongrel, hound, andcur of low degree"--lift up their canine voices in some indefinablesympathy and stir the winds of the morning with their mournful yowls.Then, when all the garrison gets up cursing and all necessity forrousing is ended, the official reveille begins, sounded by thecombined trumpeters, and so, uncheered by concord of sweet sounds, thesoldier begins his day.
The two infantry companies at Sandy, at the time whereof we tell, were ofan honored old regiment that had fought with Worth at Monterey--one whosescamps of drum boys and fifers had got their teachings from predecessorswhose nimble fingers had trilled the tunes of old under the walls of theBishop's Palace and in the resounding Halls of the Montezumas. Plume andCutler loved their joyous, rhythmical strains, and would gladly have keptthe cavalry clarions for purely cavalry calls; but reveille andguard-mounting were the only ones where this was practicable, and an oddthing had become noticeable. Apache Indians sometimes stopped their ears,and always looked impolite, when the brazen trumpets sounded close at hand;whereas they would squat on the sun-kissed sands and listen in stolid,unmurmuring bliss to every note of the fife and drum. Members of the guardwere always sure of sympathetic spectators during the one regularceremony--guard-mounting--held just after sunset, for the Apache prisonersat the guard-house begged to be allowed to remain without the prison roomuntil a little after the "retreat" visit of the officer of the day, and,roosting along the guard-house porch, to gaze silently forth at the littleband of soldiery in the center of the parade, and there to listen assilently to the music of the fife and drum. The moment it was all over theywould rise without waiting for directions, and shuffle stolidly back totheir hot wooden walls. They had had the one intellectual treat of the day.The savage breast was soothed for the time being, and Plume had come to theconclusion that, aside from the fact that his Indian prisoners were betterfed than when on their native heath, the Indian prison pen at Sandy was notthe place of penance the department commander had intended. Accessionsbecame so frequent; discharges so very few.
Then there was another symptom: Sentries on the north and east front,Nos. 4 and 5, had been a bit startled at first at seeing, soon afterdawn, shadowy forms rising slowly from the black depths of the valley,hovering uncertainly along the edge of the _mesa_ until they couldmake out the lone figure of the morning watcher, then slowly,cautiously, and with gestures of amity and suppliance, drawinggradually nearer. Sturdy Germans and mercurial Celts were, at thestart, disposed to "shoo" away these specters as being hostile, or atleast incongruous. But officers and men were soon made to see it wasto hear the morning music these children of the desert flocked soearly. The agency lay but twenty miles distant. The reservation linescame no nearer; but the fame of the invader's big maple tom-tom (wewore still the deep, resonant drum of Bunker Hill and Waterloo, ofJemappes, Saratoga, and Chapultepec, not the modern rattle panborrowed from Prussia), and the trill of his magical pipe had spreadabroad throughout Apache land to the end that no higher reward forgood behavior could be given by the agent to his swarthy charges thanthe begged-for _papel_ permitting them, in lumps of twenty, to trudgethrough the evening shades to the outskirts of the soldier castle onthe _mesa_, there to wait the long night through until the softtinting of the eastward heavens and the twitter of the birdlings inthe willows along the stream, gave them courage to begin their timidapproach.
And this breathless October morning was no exception. The sentry onthe northward line, No. 4, had recognized and passed the post surgeonsoon after four o'clock, hastening to hospital in response to asummons from an anxious nurse. Mullins seemed far too feverish. No. 4as well as No. 5 had noted how long the previous evening Shannon andhis men kept raking and searching about the _mesa_ where Mullins wasstabbed in the early morning, and they were in no mood to allowstrangers to near them unchallenged. The first shadowy forms to showat the edge had dropped back abashed at the harsh reception accordedthem. Four's infantry rifle and Five's cavalry carbine had beenleveled at the very first to appear, and stern voices had said thingsthe Apache could neither translate nor misunderstand. The would-beaudience of the morning concert ducked and waited. With more light thesentry might be more kind. The evening previous six new prisoners hadbeen sent down under strong guard by the agent, swelling the list atSandy to thirty-seven and causing Plume to set his teeth--and an extrasentry. Now, as the dawn grew broader and the light clear and strong,Four and Five were surprised, if not startled, to see that not twenty,but probably forty Apaches, with a sprinkling of squaws, were hoveringall along the _mesa_, mutely watching for the signaled permission tocome in. Five, at least, considered the symptom one of sufficientgravity to warrant report to higher authority, and full ten minutesbefore the time for reveille to begin, his voice went echoing over thearid parade in a long-draw, yet imperative "Corporal of the Gua-a-rd,No. 5!"
Whereat there were symptoms of panic among the dingy white-shirted,dingy white-turbaned watchers along the edge, and a man in snowy whitefatigue coat, pacing restlessly up and down in rear, this time, of themajor's quarters, whirled suddenly about and strode out on the_mesa_, gazing northward in the direction of the sound. It was Plumehimself, and Plume had had a sleepless night.
At tattoo, by his own act and direction, the major had still furtherstrained the situation. The discovery of Blakely's watch, buriedloosely in the sands barely ten feet from where the sentry fell, hadseemed to him a matter of such significance that, as Graham maintainedan expression of professional gravity and hazarded no explanation, themajor sent for the three captains still on duty, Cutler, Sanders, andWestervelt, and sought their views. One after another each picked upand closely examined the watch, within and without, as thoughexpectant of finding somewhere concealed about its mechanism fullexplanation of its mysterious goings and comings. Then in turn, withlike gravity, each declared he had no theory to offer, unless, saidSanders, Mr. Blakely was utterly mistaken in supposing he had beenrobbed at the pool. Mr. Blakely had the watch somewhere about him whenhe dismounted, and then joggled it into the sands, where it soon wastrampled under foot. Sanders admitted that Blakely was a man not oftenmistaken, and that the loss reported to the post trader of the flatnotebook was probably correct. But no one could be got to see, muchless to say, that Wren was in the slightest d
egree connected with thetemporary disappearance of the watch. Yet by this time Plume had somesuch theory of his own.
Sometime during the previous night, along toward morning, he hadsleepily asked his wife, who was softly moving about the room, togive him a little water. The "monkey" stood usually on the windowsill, its cool and dewy surface close to his hand; but he rememberedlater that she did not then approach the window--did not immediatelybring him the glass. He had retired very late, yet was hardlysurprised to find her wide awake and more than usually nervous. Sheexplained by saying Elise had been quite ill, was still suffering, andmight need her services again. She could not think, she said, ofsending for Dr. Graham after all he had had to vex him. It must havebeen quite a long while after, so soundly had Plume slept, when shebent over him and said something was amiss and Mr. Doty was at thefront door waiting for him to come down. He felt oddly numb and heavyand stupid as he hastily dressed, but Doty's tidings, that Mullins hadbeen stabbed on post, pulled him together, as it were, and, merelyrunning back to his room for his canvas shoes, he was speedily at thescene. Mrs. Plume, when briefly told what had happened, had coveredher face with her hands and buried face and all in the pillow,shuddering. At breakfast-time Plume himself had taken her tea andtoast, both mistress and maid being still on the invalid list, and,bending affectionately over her, he had suggested her taking this verylight refreshment and then a nap. Graham, he said, should come andprescribe for Elise. But madame was feverishly anxious. "What will bethe outcome? What will happen to--Captain Wren?" she asked.
Plume would not say just what, but he would certainly have to standcourt-martial, said he. Mrs. Plume shuddered more. What good wouldthat do? How much better it would be to suppress everything than setsuch awful scandal afloat. The matter was now in the hands of thedepartment commander, said Plume, and would have to take its course.Then, in some way, from her saying how ill the captain was looking,Plume gathered the impression that she had seen him since his arrest,and asked the question point-blank. Yes, she admitted,--from thewindow,--while she was helping Elise. Where was he? What was he doing?Plume had asked, all interest now, for that must have been very late,in fact, well toward morning. "Oh, nothing especial, just looking athis watch," she thought, "he probably couldn't sleep." Yes, she wassure he was looking at his watch.
Then, as luck would have it, late in the day, when the mail came downfrom Prescott, there was a little package for Captain Wren, expressed,and Doty signed the receipt and sent it by the orderly. "What was it?"asked Plume. "His watch, sir," was the brief answer. "He sent it uplast month for repairs." And Mrs. Plume at nine that night, knowingnothing of this, yet surprised at her husband's pertinacity, stuck toher story. She was sure Wren was consulting or winding or doingsomething with a watch, and, sorely perplexed and marveling much atthe reticence of his company commanders, who seemed to know somethingthey would not speak of, Wren sent for Doty. He had decided on anotherinterview with Wren.
Meanwhile "the Bugologist" had been lying patiently in his cot,saying little or nothing, in obedience to the doctor's orders, butthinking who knows what. Duane and Doty occasionally tiptoed in toglance inquiry at the fanning attendant, and then tiptoed out. Mullinshad been growing worse and was a very sick man. Downs, the wretch, waspainfully, ruefully, remorsefully sobered over at the post of theguard, and of Graham's feminine patients the one most in need,perhaps, of his ministration was giving the least trouble. While AuntJanet paced restlessly about the lower floor, stopping occasionally tolisten at the portal of her brother, Angela Wren lay silent and onlysometimes sighing, with faithful Kate Sanders reading in low tone bythe bedside.
The captains had gone back to their quarters, conferring in subduedvoices. Plume, with his unhappy young adjutant, was seated on theveranda, striving to frame his message to Wren, when the crack of awhip, the crunching of hoofs and wheels, sounded at the north end ofthe row, and down at swift trot came a spanking, four-mule team andConcord wagon. It meant but one thing, the arrival of the general'sstaff inspector straight from Prescott.
It was the very thing Plume had urged by telegraph, yet the very factthat Colonel Byrne was here went to prove that the chief was far fromsatisfied that the major's diagnosis was the right one. With soldierlyalacrity, however, Plume sprang forward to welcome the comingdignitary, giving his hand to assist him from the dark interior intothe light. Then he drew back in some chagrin. The voice of ColonelByrne was heard, jovial and reassuring, but the face and form first toappear were those of Mr. Wayne Daly, the new Indian agent at theApache reservation. Coming by the winding way of Cherry Creek, thecolonel must have found means to wire ahead, then to pick up thiscivil functionary some distance up the valley, and to have someconference with him before ever reaching the major's bailiwick. Thiswas not good, said Plume. All the same, he led them into his cozy armyparlor, bade his Chinese servant get abundant supper forthwith, and,while the two were shown to the spare room to remove the dust of milesof travel, once more returned to the front piazza and his adjutant.
"Captain Wren, sir," said the young officer at once, "begs to beallowed to see Colonel Byrne this evening. He states that his reasonsare urgent."
"Captain Wren shall have every opportunity to see Colonel Byrne in dueseason," was the answer. "It is not to be expected that Colonel Byrnewill see him until after he has seen the post commander. Then it willprobably be too late," and that austere reply, intended to reach theears of the applicant, steeled the Scotchman's heart against hiscommander and made him merciless.
The "conference of the powers" was indeed protracted until long after10.30, yet, to Plume's surprise, the colonel at its close said hebelieved he would go, if Plume had no objection, and see Wren inperson and at once. "You see, Plume, the general thinks highly of theold Scot. He has known him ever since First Bull Run and, in fact, Iam instructed to hear what Wren may have to say. I hope you will notmisinterpret the motive."
"Oh, not at all--not at all!" answered the major, obviously illpleased, however, and already nettled that, against all precedent,certain of the Apache prisoners had been ordered turned out as late as10 P. M. for interview with the agent. It would leave him alone, too,for as much as half an hour, and the very air seemed surcharged withintrigue against the might, majesty, power, and dominion of the postcommander. Byrne, a soldier of the old school, might do his best toconvince the major that in no wise was the confidence of the generalcommanding abated, but every symptom spoke of something to thecontrary. "I should like, too, to see Dr. Graham to-night," said theofficial inquisitor ere he quitted the piazza to go to Wren's nextdoor. "He will be here to meet you on your return," said Plume, withjust a bit of stateliness, of ruffled dignity in manner, and turnedonce more within the hallway to summon his smiling Chinaman.
Something rustling at the head of the stairs caused him to look upquickly. Something dim and white was hovering, drooping, over thebalustrade, and, springing aloft, he found his wife in a half-faintingcondition, Elise, the invalid, sputtering vehemently in French andmaking vigorous effort to pull her away. Plume had left her at 8.30,apparently sleeping at last under the influence of Graham's medicine.Yet here she was again. He lifted her in his arms and laid her uponthe broad, white bed. "Clarice, my child," he said, "you _must_ bequiet. You must not leave your bed. I am sending for Graham and hewill come to us at once."
"I _will_ not see him! He _shall_ not see me!" she burst in wildly."The man maddens me with his--his insolence."
"Clarice!"
"Oh, I mean it! He and his brother Scot, between them--they wouldinfuriate a--saint," and she was writhing in nervous contortions.
"But, Clarice, how?"
"But, monsieur, no!" interposed Elise, bending over, glass in hand."Madame will but sip of this--Madame will be tranquil." And the majorfelt himself thrust aside. "Madame must not talk to-night. It is toomuch."
But madame would talk. Madame would know where Colonel Byrne was gone,whether he was to be permitted to see Captain Wren and Dr. Graham, andthat wretch Downs. Su
rely the commanding officer must have _some_rights. Surely it was no time for investigation--_this_ hour of thenight. Five minutes earlier Plume was of the same way of thinking. Nowhe believed his wife delirious.
"See to her a moment, Elise," said he, breaking loose from the claspof the long, bejeweled fingers, and, scurrying down the stairs, hecame face to face with Dr. Graham.
"I was coming for you," said he, at sight of the rugged, somber face."Mrs. Plume--"
"I heard--at least I comprehend," answered Graham, with uplifted hand."The lady is in a highly nervous state, and my presence does not tendto soothe her. The remedies I left will take effect in time. Leave herto that waiting woman; she best understands her."
"But she's almost raving, man. I never knew a woman to behave likethat."
"Ye're not long married, major," answered Graham. "Come into the air abit," and, taking his commander's arm, the surgeon swept him up thestarlit row, then over toward the guard-house, and kept him half anhour watching the strange interview between Mr. Daly, the agent, andhalf a dozen gaunt, glittering-eyed Apaches, from whom he was strivingto get some admission or information, with Arahawa, "WashingtonCharley," as interpreter. One after another the six had shaken theirfrowsy heads. They admitted nothing--knew nothing.
"What do you make of it all?" queried Plume.
"Something's wrang at the reservation," answered Graham. "There mostlyis. Daly thinks there's running to and fro between the Tontos in theSierra Ancha country and his wards above here. He thinks there's moreout than there should be--and more a-going. What'd you find, Daly?" headded, as the agent joined them, mechanically wiping his brow.Moisture there was none. It evaporated fast as the pores exuded.
"They know well enough, damn them!" said the new official. "But theythink I can be stood off. I'll nail 'em yet--to-morrow," he added."But could you send a scout at once to the Tonto basin?" and Dalyturned eagerly to the post commander.
Plume reflected. Whom could he send? Men there were in plenty,dry-rotting at the post for lack of something to limber their joints;but officers to lead? There was the rub! Thirty troopers, twentyApache Mohave guides, a pack train and one or, at most, two officersmade up the usual complement of such expeditions. Men, mounts, scouts,mules and packers, all, were there at his behest; but, with Wren inarrest, Sanders and Lynn back but a week from a long prod through theBlack Mesa country far as Fort Apache, Blakely invalided and Duane aboy second lieutenant, his choice of cavalry officers was limited. Itnever occurred to him to look beyond.
"What's the immediate need of a scout?" said he.
"To break up the traffic that's going on--and the rancherias they musthave somewhere down there. If we don't, I'll not answer for anothermonth." Daly might be new to the neighborhood, but not to thebusiness.
"I'll confer with Colonel Byrne," answered Plume guardedly. And Byrnewas waiting for them, a tall, dark shadow in the black depths of thepiazza. Graham would have edged away and gone to his own den, butPlume held to him. There was something he needed to say, yet could notuntil the agent had retired. Daly saw,--perhaps he had already imbibedsomething of the situation,--and was not slow to seek his room. Plumetook the little kerosene lamp; hospitably led the way; made thecustomary tender of a "night-cap," and polite regrets he had no iceto offer therewith; left his unwonted guest with courteous good-nightand cast an eye aloft as he came through the hall. All there was darkand still, though he doubted much that Graham's sedatives had yetprevailed. He had left the two men opposite the doorway. He found themat the south end of the piazza, their heads together. Theystraightened up to perfunctory talk about the Medical Director, hisdrastic methods and inflammable ways; but the mirth was forced, thehumor far too dry. Then silence fell. Then Plume invaded it:
"How'd you find Wren--mentally?" he presently asked. He felt that anopening of some kind was necessary.
"Sound," was the colonel's answer, slow and sententious. "Of course heis much--concerned."
"About--his case? Ah, will you smoke, colonel?"
"About Blakely. I believe not, Plume; it's late."
Plume struck a light on the sole of his natty boot. "One would supposehe would feel very natural anxiety as to the predicament in which hehas placed himself," he ventured.
"Wren worries much over Blakely's injuries, which accident made farmore serious than he would have inflicted, major, even had he had thegrounds for violence that he thought he had. Blakely was not the onlysufferer, and is not the only cause, of his deep contrition. Wrentells me that he was even harsher to Angela. But that is all a familymatter." The colonel was speaking slowly, thoughtfully.
"But--these later affairs--that Wren couldn't explain--or wouldn't."Plume's voice and color both were rising.
"Couldn't is the just word, major, and couldn't especially--to you,"was the significant reply.
Plume rose from his chair and stood a moment, trembling not a littleand his fingers twitching. "You mean--" he huskily began.
"I mean this, my friend," said Byrne gently, as he, too, arose, "and Ihave asked Graham, another friend, to be here--that Wren would notdefend himself to you by even mentioning--others, and might not haverevealed the truth even to me had he been the only one cognizant ofit. But, Plume, _others_ saw what he saw, and what is now known tomany people on the post. Others than Wren were abroad that night. Oneother was being carefully, tenderly brought home--_led_ home--to yourroof. You did not know--Mrs. Plume was a somnambulist?"
In the dead silence that ensued the colonel put forth a pitying handas though to stay and support the younger soldier, the post commander.Plume stood, swaying a bit, and staring. Presently he strove to speak,but choked in the effort.
"It's the only proper explanation," said Graham, and between them theyled the major within doors.
And this is how it happened that he, instead of Wren, was pacingmiserably up and down in the gathering dawn, when the sentry startledall waking Sandy with his cry for the corporal. This is how, far aheadof the corporal, the post commander reached the alarmed soldier, withdemand to know the cause; and, even by the time he came, the cause hadvanished from sight.
"Apaches, sir, by the dozen,--all along the edge of the _mesa_,"stammered No. 5. He could have convinced the corporal without fear orthought of ridicule, but his voice lacked confidence when he stoodchallenged by his commanding officer. Plume heard with instantsuspicion. He was in no shape for judicial action.
"Apaches!" This in high disdain. "Trash, man! Because one sentry has ascuffle with some night prowler is the next to lose his nerve? You'rescared by shadows, Hunt. That's what's the matter with you!"
It "brought to" a veteran trooper with a round turn. Hunt had servedhis fourth enlistment, had "worn out four blankets" in the regiment,and was not to be accused of scare.
"Let the major see for himself, then," he answered sturdily. "Come inhere, you!" he called aloud. "Come, the whole gang of ye. Theconcert's beginning!" Then, slowly along the eastward edge there beganto creep into view black polls bound with dirty white, black cropsuntrammeled by any binding. Then, swift from the west, came runningfootfalls, the corporal with a willing comrade or two, wondering wasFive in further danger. There, silent and regretful, stood the postcommander, counting in surprise the score of scarecrow forms nowplainly visible, sitting, standing, or squatting along the _mesa_edge. Northernmost in view, nearly opposite Blakely's quarters, weretwo, detached from the general assembly, yet clinging closetogether--two slender figures, gowned, and it was at these the agentDaly was staring, as he, too, came running to the spot.
"Major Plume," cried he, panting, "I want those girls arrested, atonce!"