strong white teeth grinding together. "It would be--simply
hell!" he burst in again, hoarse and quivering. "It would ruin--everything!
Can't the General give the order to-night?" he asked with intense
eagerness, while the young officer, taking him by the arm, had led him
again to the light of the guardhouse lamps at the front. The sergeant and a
group of soldiers straightened up and faced them, listening curiously.

"It may be even impossible to see the General," answered Gray doubtfully.
"Take Morton into the guardroom till I get back, sergeant, and let him
warm himself thoroughly." Don't put him with the prisoners till I return,
and so saying he had hastened away. Gordon, his friend and adviser, had
left camp and gone visiting over in the other division. The lights at
general headquarters were turned low. Even now, after having heard proofs
of the innocence of the accused soldier, Gray knew that it was useless to
appeal to the colonel. He could not understand, however, the feverish,
almost insane, impatience of the lad for immediate release. Another day
ought not to make so great a difference. What could be the reason--if it
were not that, though innocent of the robbery of the storehouse, or of
complicity in the sale of stolen goods, some other crime lay at his door
which the morrow might disclose? All the loyalty of a Delta Sig was
stretched to the snapping point as Gray paused irresolute in front of the
adjutant's tent, his quest there unsuccessful. The sergeant-major and a
sorely badgered clerk were working late over some regimental
papers--things that Morton wrote out easily and accurately.

"I suppose, sir, it's no use asking to have the prisoner sent up here
under guard," said that jewel of a noncommissioned officer. "Yet the
colonel will be savage if these papers ain't ready. It will take us all
night as things are going."

Gray shook his curly head. "Go ask, if you like, but--Morton's in no
shape to help you----"

"Has he been drinking, sir?" said the sergeant-major, in surprise. "I
never knew him----"

"Oh, it isn't that," said Gray hastily, "only he's--he's got--other
matters on his mind! Bring me his overcoat. He said it was in his tent,"
and the young officer jerked his head at the patch of little "A" tents
lined up in the rear of those of the officers.

"Get Morton's overcoat and take it to him at the guardhouse," snapped the
staff sergeant to the clerk. "Be spry now, and no stopping on the way
bac