to square
accounts with Willett, who was ass enough to strike him. This from
Case, mind you, who, I believe, hates Willett himself. I've just got
him stowed away for the night. Had to take him out of earshot of the
store and put him in limbo at Craney's shack, where he can't hear
what's going on. I gave him a dose that would flatten out St. Vitus
himself. There'll be no budging Case this night unless--but that isn't
likely."

"Then I need to go and see the general," said Harris.

"Then the general will come to see you--here. My word for it," said
Bentley, and went his way.

It was then nearly eleven. Five minutes later Willett, with relieved
heart and elastic step, was hastening back to the general's quarters
where sweet, yet tearful, welcome awaited him. An hour later he stepped
forth into the starlight, turning to kiss his hand and wave silent
good-night to a slender, shadowy form at the doorway, under the shelter
of the gallery. Something in its pathetic droop and distress called him
once again to her side, and with fond, clasping arms he drew the
sobbing girl to his heart and pressed kiss after kiss upon the
upturned, tear-wet little face. "Try to sleep, my darling!" he
murmured. "Mother will wake you at four, and we'll have a moment before
I go!"

"Mother won't _have_ to wake me!" she cried, clinging to him the while.
"Oh, Harold, if you only had not--to meet 'Tonio again!"

"No fear of 'Tonio, sweetheart," he answered. "Now, go I _must_!" And
so, with her kiss upon his lips, he left her to be led by loving mother
hands to her little white room, and to her humble prayers, and the
love-guarded pillow, where, lying wide-awake, still an hour later, she
heard the shot and stifled scream that called a garrison to arms.

CHAPTER XXI.

The early game at Craney's had languished that evening. It was too near
pay-day--the wrong way--for money to be burning in soldier's pockets,
and when the soldier has none the garrison hanger-on has no one to look
to. The couriers from the field column, being comfortably filled and
fairly well tired, meandered off with their martial chums at tattoo.
The few ranchers and packers hovered about the monte table awhile,
hopeful, perhaps, of a clash between Dago and Munoz, but even this hope
was crushed when, just about taps, two belated Mexicans, innocent or
reckless of the proximity of signalling Indians across the stream, came
mule-bestriding into the glare of the common room