HAPTER XVII.

As was to be expected, Lieutenant Harris was somewhat worse when time
came for inspection Sunday morning, but Bentley said complete rest
would soon restore him. The other interesting invalid, Lieutenant
Willett, was correspondingly better, and was to sit up awhile later in
the day. Inspection was held under arms and in fighting kit instead of
full dress--the two companies looking like a pair of scanty platoons,
so heavy was the drain for guard duty. From earliest dawn lookouts had
been stationed on top of the adjutant's office at the south, and the
hospital at the north edge of the parade, Bucketts having built for
them a little wooden platform, with bench, shelf and sunshade, and
there, with signal-service glasses, they scoured the barren wilds in
every direction for sign of coming friend or foe.

It was eleven o'clock when Bentley came forth with Mrs. Stannard from
his morning visit to Willett. "Oh, he's doing as well as an overfed,
under-trained animal has any right to," said he, in response to the
inquiry in her soft blue eyes. "I still think some men have too much
luck in this world of ours. Here's Willett, who doesn't begin to
deserve it, getting everything that is good, and Harris, who deserves
all the good that the army affords, gets all the hard knocks and
setbacks. Here's Willett swearing that 'Tonio's a renegade, hostile,
spy and a traitor, and Harris convinced that he is stanch and
loyal--that Willett must be mistaken in saying he shot at him, and
though everything I know of the Apaches or ever heard, and every bit of
evidence is overwhelmingly in favor of Willett's statement, just from
what I've seen of these two men I'm deciding with Harris."

"You don't--feel confidence in Mr. Willett's--judgment?" she asked.

For a moment he hesitated, then turned and squarely faced her. "I don't
feel confidence in Mr. Willett. There, Mrs. Stannard! There are not ten
women in the army to whom I'd trust myself to speak of this--or five
women out of it--but I am not happy over the way things are going."

"Don't you think he'll--learn to appreciate her?"

"He shouldn't _have_ to learn! He should see it all at a glance, and
thank God for the unmerited blessing."

"Perhaps he does," said she, ever gentle, helpful, hopeful. "It is
lovely the way he speaks to her--and I'm quite eager to see them this
afternoon."

What woman would not be? What man would not have been at his best at
such a time, under suc