by Bret Harte
frills theer."
"Yes; but, Jim dear, don't you see that she treated him first--sortergot round him with free milk and butter, and reg'larly blandished him,"argued Maggie earnestly.
But Jim declined to accept this feminine suggestion, or to pursue thesubject further, and after a fraternal embrace they separated for thenight. Jim lingered long enough to look after the fastening of thedoor and windows, and Maggie remained for some moments at her casement,looking across the gallery to the Marsh beyond.
The moon had risen, the tide was half up. Whatever sign or trace ofalien footprint or occupation had been there was already smoothlyobliterated; even the configuration of the land had changed. A blackcape had disappeared, a level line of shore had been eaten into byteeth of glistening silver. The whole dark surface of the Marsh wasbeginning to be streaked with shining veins as if a new life wascoursing through it. Part of the open bay before the Fort, encroachingupon the shore, seemed in the moonlight to be reaching a white andoutstretched arm towards the nest of the Kingfisher.
III.
The reveille at Fort Redwood had been supplemented full five minutes bythe voice of Lieutenant George Calvert's servant, before that youngofficer struggled from his bed. His head was splitting, his tongue andlips were dry and feverish, his bloodshot eyes were shrinking from theinsufferable light of the day, his mind a confused medley of the pastnight and the present morning, of cards and wild revelry, and thevision of a reproachfully trim orderly standing at his door withreports and orders which he now held composedly in his hand. ForLieutenant Calvert had been enjoying a symposium variously known as"Stag Feed" and "A Wild Stormy Night" with several of his brotherofficers, and a sickening conviction that it was not the first or thelast time he had indulged in these festivities. At that moment heloathed himself, and then after the usual derelict fashion cursed thefate that had sent him, after graduating, to a frontier garrison--thedull monotony of whose duties made the Border horse-play of dissipationa relief. Already he had reached the miserable point of envying theveteran capacities of his superiors and equals. "If I could drink likeKirby or Crowninshield, or if there was any other cursed thing a mancould do in this hole," he had wretchedly repeated to himself, aftereach misspent occasion, and yet already he was looking forward to themas part of a 'sub's' duty and worthy his emulation. Already the dreamof social recreation fostered by West Point had been rudely dispelled.Beyond the garrison circle of Colonel Preston's family and twoofficers' wives, there was no society. The vague distrust and civiljealousy with which some frontier communities regard the Federal power,heightened in this instance by the uncompromising attitude theGovernment had taken towards the settlers' severe Indian policy, hadkept the people of Logport aloof from the Fort. The regimental bandmight pipe to them on Saturdays, but they would not dance.
Howbeit, Lieutenant Calvert dressed himself with uncertain hands butmechanical regularity and neatness, and, under the automatic trainingof discipline and duty, managed to button his tunic tightly over hisfeelings, to pull himself together with his sword-belt, compressing astill cadet-like waist, and to present that indescribable combinationof precision and jauntiness which his brother officers too oftenallowed to lapse into frontier carelessness. His closely clipped lighthair, yet dripping from a plunge in the cold water, had been brushedand parted with military exactitude, and when surmounted by his cap,with the peak in an artful suggestion of extra smartness tipped forwardover his eyes, only his pale face--a shade lighter than his littleblonde moustache--showed his last night's excesses. He wasmechanically reaching for his sword and staring confusedly at thepapers on his table when his servant interrupted:
"Major Bromley arranged that Lieutenant Kirby takes your sash thismorning, as you're not well, sir; and you're to report for special tothe colonel," he added, pointing discreetly to the envelope.
Touched by this consideration of his superior, Major Bromley, who hadbeen one of the veterans of last night's engagement, Calvert masteredthe contents of the envelope without the customary anathema ofspecials, said, "Thank you, Parks," and passed out on the veranda.
The glare of the quiet sunlit quadrangle, clean as a well-swept floor,the whitewashed walls and galleries of the barrack buildings beyond,the white and green palisade of officers' cottages on either side, andthe glitter of a sentry's bayonet, were for a moment intolerable tohim. Yet, by a kind of subtle irony, never before had the genius andspirit of the vocation he had chosen seemed to be as incarnate as inthe scene before him. Seclusion, self-restraint, cleanliness,regularity, sobriety, the atmosphere of a wholesome life, the austerereserve of a monastery without its mysterious or pensive meditation,were all there. To escape which, he had of his own free willsuccessively accepted a fool's distraction, the inevitable result ofwhich was, the viewing of them the next morning with tremulous nervesand aching eyeballs.
An hour later, Lieutenant George Calvert had received his finalinstructions from Colonel Preston to take charge of a small detachmentto recover and bring back certain deserters, but notably one, DennisM'Caffrey of Company H, charged additionally with mutinous solicitationand example. As Calvert stood before his superior, that distinguishedofficer, whose oratorical powers had been considerably stimulatedthrough a long course of "returning thanks for the Army," slightlyexpanded his chest and said paternally:
"I am aware, Mr. Calvert, that duties of this kind are somewhatdistasteful to young officers, and are apt to be considered in thelight of police detail; but I must remind you that no one part of asoldier's duty can be held more important or honorable than another,and that the fulfilment of any one, however trifling, must, with honorto himself and security to his comrades, receive his fullest devotion.A sergeant and a file of men might perform your duty, but I require, inaddition, the discretion, courtesy, and consideration of a gentlemanwho will command an equal respect from those with whom his duty bringshim in contact. The unhappy prejudices which the settlers show to themilitary authority here render this, as you are aware, a difficultservice, but I believe that you will, without forgetting the respectdue to yourself and the Government you represent, avoid arousing theseprejudices by any harshness, or inviting any conflict with the civilauthority. The limits of their authority you will find in your writteninstructions; but you might gain their confidence, and impress them,Mr. Calvert, with the idea of your being their AUXILIARY in theinterests of justice--you understand. Even if you are unsuccessful inbringing back the men, you will do your best to ascertain if theirescape has been due to the sympathy of the settlers, or even with theirpreliminary connivance. They may not be aware that inciting enlistedmen to desert is a criminal offence; you will use your own discretionin informing them of the fact or not, as occasion may serve you. Ihave only to add, that while you are on the waters of this bay and theland covered by its tides, you have no opposition of authority, and areresponsible to no one but your military superiors. Good-bye, Mr.Calvert. Let me hear a good account of you."
Considerably moved by Colonel Preston's manner, which was as paternaland real as his rhetoric was somewhat perfunctory, Calvert half forgothis woes as he stepped from the commandant's piazza. But he had to facea group of his brother officers, who were awaiting him.
"Good-bye, Calvert," said Major Bromley; "a day or two out on grasswon't hurt you--and a change from commissary whiskey will put you allright. By the way, if you hear of any better stuff at Westport thanthey're giving us here, sample it and let us know. Take care ofyourself. Give your men a chance to talk to you now and then, and youmay get something from them, especially Donovan. Keep your eye onRamon. You can trust your sergeant straight along."
"Good-bye, George," said Kirby. "I suppose the old man told you that,although no part of a soldier's duty was better than another, yourservice was a very delicate one, just fitted for you, eh? He alwaysdoes when he's cut out some hellish scrub-work for a chap. And toldyou, too, that as long as you didn't go ashore, and kept to adispatch-boat, or an eight-oared gig, where you couldn't deploy yourme
n, or dress a line, you'd be invincible."
"He did say something like that," smiled Calvert, with an uneasyrecollection, however, that it was THE part of his superior's speechthat particularly impressed him.
"Of course," said Kirby gravely, "THAT, as an infantry officer, isclearly your duty."
"And don't forget, George," said Rollins still more gravely, "that,whatever may befall you, you belong to a section of that numericallysmall but powerfully diversified organization--the American Army.Remember that in the hour of peril you can address your men in anylanguage, and be perfectly understood. And remember that when youproudly stand before them, the eyes not only of your own country, butof nearly all the others, are upon