trial on
their own account. He couldn't do that even to oblige a brother Delt. If
only Ned Craven were officer-of-the-guard something might be done--he was
a college man, too, and though not a "Delt," but rather of a rival set,
he "would understand" and possibly help. Guard mount was held toward dusk
and that was four hours away, at least. The prisoner's note and tone were
urgent. An idea occurred to Billy: What if he could get Gordon to let
_him_ "go on" this very evening? It wasn't his tour. He had "marched off"
only two days before as he well remembered, for Canker had "roughed" him
up and down about that little error in copying the list of prisoners from
the report of the previous day. Moreover, he had counted on going to town
right after "retreat," dining at the Palace, an extravagance not to be
thought of at other times, so as to be on hand when the Primes and Amy
Lawrence came down to dinner. He had planned it all--even to the amount
of surprise he was to exhibit when he should discover about when he had
finished his own dinner that they were just beginning theirs, and the
extent and degree of pleasurable emotion he might venture on showing as
he hastened over to greet them, and accept their offer to be seated with
them, even if he had been so unkind as to dine beforehand _solus_ instead
of with them. He had set his heart on having a chat with Miss Lawrence as
part recompense for all he had lost that morning, and all this he was
thinking of while still fumbling over that disturbing note. Time was
getting short, too; there was no telling how much longer they might stay.
Mr. Prime had brought his only daughter all that long journey across the
continent on the assurance that the boy he loved, with whom he had
quarreled, and whom, in his anger, he had sorely rebuked, had enlisted
there in San Francisco and was serving in a regiment at the great camp
west of the city. He had come full of hope and confidence; he had found
the young soldier described, and, in his bitter disappointment, he
declared there was no resemblance to justify the report sent him by the
boy's own uncle, who vowed he had met him with comrades on the main
street of the city, that the recognition was mutual, for the boy had
darted around the first corner and escaped. His companions were scattered
by the time Mr. Lawrence returned to the spot after a brief, fruitless
search, but private detectives had taken it up and "located," as they
thought, young P