"Yes, sir," answered Ray, half choking, "and--she was to answer me fully at twelve o'clock."
"Well--er--I may be able to see Sergeant Bates and perhaps you again. I won't take you farther. Wait for me at your desk, will you?"
A distant horseman, trotting swiftly homeward, splashed through the ford at the moment; but long before he reached the gate the colonel had gone on through upon his regular daily tramp, making the rounds of the big wide-spreading post. The young officer, silent and pale, had gone back to his office. The sentry at the gate presented arms as the tall haggard-looking rider came trotting in, sitting very erect and squarely down in the saddle. At the parting of the roads he suddenly reined in and dismounted. "Take him to the stables and get your dinner, Gribble," said he to the trumpeter boy. "I shall not ride again to-day." Then, with grave, anxious, downcast face, went striding up the southward line to his quarters at the farther end--the quarters that had been the Rays'.
On the gallery of Lieutenant Thornton's were two or three young army wives and mothers, who ceased chatting and somewhat curiously studied the coming officer. In brief, absent-minded fashion he lifted his cap and passed them by. Young Dr. Wallen was just coming forth and calling cheerily to them. "Oh, he'll do very nicely now. Miss Sanford handled him admirably;" then, "Oh, beg a thousand pardons, Major," as he bumped sideways into the tall soldier passing by.
"Who's hurt?" asked Dwight with scant interest.
"Why--er--Georgie Thornton got a little--er--gash playing. His mother was scared a bit, and I was coming that way and she called me in. The eye isn't injured."
"Oh, er--well, I don't know, exactly," answered Wallen, in deep confusion. "Some boy scrap--mishap--accident, probably, and--er--good-day," he finished lamely, as he darted off.
Queer, thought Dwight. Is everybody seeking to avoid me? He only vaguely heard, and for the moment gave little heed to, the angry words that followed him from the open doorway. "Ask your boy how it happened, Major Dwight," for the mother was suffering still, and some natures, suffering, _will_ spit and scratch. Not then, but just a little later, as Jimmy came bounding gladly to meet him and to seize his hand, did Dwight remember Mrs. Thornton's words, and looking down into the joyous, beaming, flushing face, with the big, wide-open, violet eyes, the father questioned: