it was his proper function to give
all men his ear and none his tongue, to hear everything and say
nothing. But the adjutant knew, and had not been able to keep entirely
to himself, the fact that Sanchez was the bearer of a report adverse to
Lieutenant Harris--that no modification thereof had been prepared--even
after Harris was brought in dangerously wounded, the result of his
daring effort to rescue an unfortunate woman from a fearful fate. The
adjutant had gone so far as to hint to that much-loved lieutenant-colonel
of infantry, Brevet Brigadier-General Archer, that he should be glad to
write at his dictation a report setting Harris right, as surely as the
other had set him wrong, and for the first time Strong found his
commanding officer petulant and testy. It was exactly what Archer
himself thought it his duty to do, yet he was annoyed that any one else
should think so. Moreover, he had taken counsel with Willett, and
Willett had said that he would be the last man to deny a classmate and
comrade any honor justly his due, nor would he stand in the way of
General Archer's writing anything he saw fit, _but_, as the officer
present on the spot and cognizant of all the circumstances connected
with Harris's going, _he_ had yet a report to make to the department
commander.

"Frankly, general," said he, "I do not wish to say what I know unless I
have to--and your changing your report might make it necessary."

This had occurred the night before 'Tonio's coming, and now, in the
silence of midnight, as the two sat smoking on the veranda, while
Lilian lay in her little white room listening in wordless rapture, in
sweet unrest, to the murmurous sound of the deep voice that had
enthralled her senses, while Mrs. Archer, wife and mother, slept the
sleep of the just and the wearied, the old general turned again to that
subject that weighed so heavily on his heart and soul.

"By heaven, Willett," he said, "here it is midnight and no Sanchez. If
he isn't in by mail-time to-morrow I'll have to send a party--or else a
courier--to Prescott."

"Does the mail usually reach you Sunday, sir?"

"Hasn't failed once since my coming! They send it by way of McDowell,
over on the Verde. If Sanchez isn't here, or the mail either, I'll know
that 'Tonio was right, that we're hemmed in, and that they have killed
our messengers. And they are expecting to hear from me at
head-quarters, and probably wondering at my silence. Another thing to
be ex