anifestly the
proper thing for him to do. Unable, in face of the stories afloat, to
take his wife away, his proper place in the pressing emergency was at
his post in command.

To Colonel Byrne, who guardedly and somewhat dubiously asked, "How
about Mrs. Plume and that--French thing?" the major's answer was
prompt:

"Both at Fort Whipple and in--good hands," said he. "My wife realizes
that my duty is here, and, though her recovery may be retarded, she
declares she will remain there or even join me. She, in fact, was so
insistent that I should bring her back with me that it embarrassed me
somewhat. I vetoed it, however."

Byrne gazed at him from under his shaggy eyebrows. "H'm," said he, "I
fancied she had shaken the dust of Sandy from her shoes for good and
all--that she hoped never to come back."

"I, too," answered Plume ingenuously. "She hated the very mention of
it,--this is between ourselves,--until this week. Now she says her
place is here with me, no matter how she may suffer," and the major
seemed to dwell with pride on this new evidence of his wife's
devotion. It was, indeed, an unusual symptom, and Byrne had to try
hard to look credulous, which Plume appreciated and hurried on:

"Elise, of course, seemed bent on talking her out of it, but, with
Wren and Blakely both missing, I could not hesitate. I had to come.
Oh, captain, is Truman still acting quartermaster?" this to Cutler.
"He has the keys of my house, I suppose."

And so by tattoo the major was once more harbored under his old roof
and full of business. From Byrne and his associates he quickly
gathered all particulars in their possession. He agreed with them
that another day must bring tidings from the east or prove that the
Apaches had surrounded and perhaps cut down every man of the command.
He listened eagerly to the details Byrne and others were able to give
him. He believed, by the time "taps" came, he had already settled on a
plan for another relief column, and he sent for Truman, the
quartermaster.

"Truman," said he, "how much of a pack train have you got left?"

"Hardly a mule, sir. Two expeditions out from this post swallows up
pretty much everything."

"Very true; yet I may have to find a dozen packs before we get half
through this business. The ammunition is in your hands, too, isn't it?
Where do you keep it?" and the major turned and gazed out in the
starlight.

"Only place I got, sir--quartermaster's storehouse," and Truman eye