It was because she
was anxious about Mullins, so she told herself and told her father,
that she had gone fluttering down to meet him at the door. But no
sooner had he answered, "Still delirious and yet holding his own,"
than she asked where and why Major Plume had gone.
"The general wired for him," answered Wren. "And what is my tall
girlie doing, spiering from windows this time of night? Go to bed,
child." She may be losing beauty sleep, but not her beauty, thought he
fondly, as she as fondly kissed him and turned to obey. Then came a
heavy footfall on the gallery without, and a dark form, erect and
soldierly, stood between them and the dim lights of the guard-house.
It was a corporal of the guard.
"No. 4, sir, reports he heard shots--two--way up the valley."
"Good God!" Wren began, then throttled the expletive half spoken.
Could they have dared waylay the major--and so close to the post? A
moment more and he was hurrying over to his troop quarters; five
minutes, and a sergeant and ten men were running with him to the
stables; ten, and a dozen horses, swiftly saddled, were being led into
the open starlight; fifteen, and they were away at a lunging bronco
lope, a twisting column of twos along the sandy road, leaving the
garrison to wake and wonder. Three, four, five miles they sped, past
Boulder Point, past Rattlesnake Hill, and still no sign of anything
amiss, no symptom of night-raiding Apache, for indeed the Apache
dreads the dark.
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