. "And no man rides with me because, with another
man, I'd never find what I'm in search of." For a moment he bent over
Wren, a world of wordless care, dread, and yet determination in his
pale face. Arnold saw his wearied eyes close a moment, his lips move
as though in petition, then he suddenly turned. "Let me have that
ribbon," said he bluntly, and without a word Arnold surrendered it.
Stone held the reluctant horse, Arnold helped the wounded soldier into
the saddle. "Don't worry about me--any of you," said Blakely, in brief
farewell. "Good-night," and with that he rode away.

Arnold and the men stood gazing after him. "Grit clean through," said
the ranchman, through his set teeth, for a light was dawning on him,
as he pondered over Blakely's words. "May the Lord grant I don't have
to deliver these!" Then he looked at the superscriptions. One letter
was addressed to Captain, or Miss Janet, Wren--the other to Mrs.
Plume.

CHAPTER XXII

SUSPENSE

Sandy again. Four of the days stipulated by Lieutenant Blakely had run
their course. The fifth was ushered in, and from the moment he rode
away from the bivouac at the tanks no word had come from the
Bugologist, no further trace of Angela. In all its history the
garrison had known no gloom like this. The hospital was filled with
wounded. An extra surgeon and attendants had come down from Prescott,
but Graham was sturdily in charge. Of his several patients Wren
probably was now causing him the sorest anxiety, for the captain had
been grievously wounded and was pitiably weak. Now, when aroused at
times from the lassitude and despond in which he lay, Wren would
persist in asking for Angela, and, not daring to tell him the truth,
Janet, Calvinist that she was to the very core, had to do fearful
violence to her feelings and lie. By the advice of bluff old Byrne and
the active connivance of the post commander, they had actually, these
stern Scotch Presbyterians, settled on this as the deception to be
practiced--that Angela had been drooping so sadly from anxiety and
dread she had been taken quite ill, and Dr. Graham had declared she
must be sent up to Prescott, or some equally high mountain resort,
there to rest and recuperate. She was in good hands, said these
arch-conspirators. She might be coming home any day. As for the troop
and the campaign, he mustn't talk or worry or think about them. The
general, with his big field columns, had had no personal contact with
the