as thinking
of the sorrows that encompassed her as she came slowly home, and then,
as the cry sounded from the lookout station, and people came hurrying
to their galleries, and Harris slowly felt his way to the open door,
she noted how pallid and sad and worn was the keen young face, and,
forgetful of her troubles, turned to say a word of cheer to him.

"It used to mean the mail," said she, smiling brightly for his benefit,
"but now no man can tell what a day may bring forth," she quoted. "The
letters _I_ most want would be coming from the east. What would you
have coming from the west?"

"Anything to bring me word of 'Tonio," he answered, adding, though not
for her ear, "and take me out of this." She stepped to the gallery and
frankly took his hand, looking kindly, gravely at him with her sweet
blue eyes.

"You are not doing well, Mr. Harris. You are fretting too much, I fear.
Tell me. You believe in 'Tonio thoroughly, don't you? So did Captain
Stannard, and so should I. Do you believe he would have tried to
kill--Mr. Willett?"

"Mrs. Stannard, I _know_ he would not!"

"Then I wish to ask you--something--something else. Was there--_is_
there--any one who could--who would--_well_, who--had any reason?"

For a moment he stood gazing at her, paler even than before, his stern
young face full of strange emotion.

"You have some reason for asking that, Mrs. Stannard," he said, almost
below his breath. "You have heard--tell me; has he--has Willett told
you anything?"

"Nothing that connects any one with this crime, and yet, while I cannot
tell you, and the doctor may not, I'll promise you this, Mr. Harris. If
ever 'Tonio is accused and in danger, Mr. Willett has something to
explain, and if he doesn't, then Dr. Bentley and I may have to."

With that, almost abruptly, as though dreading further question, Mrs.
Stannard turned away.

Thirty minutes later, dusty and weary, five troopers rode slowly
through the southward willows, across the sandy flats and up the slope
to the adjutant's office, while the garrison, neglecting its evening
meal, swarmed out to greet them. Six saddle-bags were crowded with
letters and papers--the first in a fortnight--and the sergeant-major
and his clerks went busily to work sorting out the mail, while Archer
and his officers eagerly questioned the sergeant in charge. They were
men of Captain Freeman's troop, all out scouting from McDowell. They
camped last night at Silver Springs, fifty