rave reproach.

"I was restless. I could not sleep, sir. I went out--purposely."

"You know no horse can be taken from the stables at night except in
presence of the sergeant or corporal of the guard."

"I took none, sir," was the answer, and now both faces were white. "I
rode one of--Mr. Hay's."

For one moment there was no sound but the loud ticking of the big office
clock. Then came the question.

"Who rode the others, Field? The sentries say they heard three."

There was another moment of silence. Ray stepped on tiptoe to the door
as though he wanted not to hear. Blake looked blankly out of the window.
Then the young soldier spoke.

"I--cannot tell you, sir."

For full ten seconds the post commander sat with grave, pallid face,
looking straight into the eyes of his young staff officer. White as his
senior, but with eyes as unflinching, Field returned the gaze. At last
the major's voice was heard again, sad and constrained.

"Field, Captain Ray starts on a forced march at once for Fort Beecher.
I--wish you to go with him."

CHAPTER IV

THE SIGN OF THE BAR SHOE

Many a time has it happened in the old days of the old army that the
post adjutant has begged to be allowed to go with some detachment sent
after Indians. Rarely has it happened, however, that, without any
request from the detachment commander or of his own, has the post
adjutant been ordered to go. No one could say of Beverly Field that he
had not abundantly availed himself of every opportunity for active
service in the past. During his first two years with the regiment he had
spent more than half the time in saddle and afield, scouting the trails
of war parties or marauding bands, or watching over a peaceable tribe
when on the annual hunt. Twice he had been out with Ray, which meant a
liberal education in plainscraft and frontier duty. Twice twenty times,
probably, had he said he would welcome a chance to go again with Captain
Ray, and now the chance had come, so had the spoken order, and, so far
from receiving it with rejoicing, it was more than apparent that he
heard it with something like dismay.

But Webb was not the man to either explain or defend an order, even to a
junior for whom he cherished such regard. Field felt instinctively that
it was not because of a wish expressed in the past he was so suddenly
bidden to take the field. Ray's senior subaltern, as has been said, was
absent, being on duty at West Point, but his junior w