One or two dim figures, dark and
shadowy, were just visible on the eastward _mesa_, barely ten paces
away, and thither the attendant ran. Downs, lurching heavily, was just
ahead of him. Together they came upon a little group. Somebody went
running southward--Lieutenant Truman, as Todd learned later--hurrying
for the doctor. A soldier equipped as a sentry lay moaning on the
sand, clasping a bloody hand to his side, and over him, stern, silent,
but agitated, bent Captain Wren.
CHAPTER V
THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE
Within ten minutes of Todd's arrival at the spot the soft sands of the
_mesa_ were tramped into bewildering confusion by dozens of trooper
boots. The muffled sound of excited voices, so soon after the
startling affair of the earlier evening, and hurrying footfalls
following, had roused almost every household along the row and brought
to the spot half the officers on duty at the post. A patrol of the
guard had come in double time, and soldiers had been sent at speed to
the hospital for a stretcher. Dr. Graham had lost no moment of time in
reaching the stricken sentry. Todd had been sent back to Blakely's
bedside and Downs to fetch a lantern. They found the latter, five
minutes later, stumbling about the Trumans' kitchen, weeping for that
which was lost, and the sergeant of the guard collared and cuffed him
over to the guard-house--one witness, at least, out of the way.
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