forth from his quarters at the sounding of the
retreat, accurately dressed as ever, white-gloved, and wearing his
saber. He seemed to realize that all eyes would be upon him. He had,
indeed, been tempted again to turn over the command to the senior
captain, but wisely thought better of it, and determined to face the
music. He looked very sad and gray, however. He returned scrupulously
the salute of the four company commanders as, in turn, each came
forward to report the result of the evening roll-call; Cutler and
Westervelt first, their companies being the nearest, then Lieutenant
Lynn, temporarily in charge of Wren's troop, its captain and first
lieutenant being still "on sick report." The sight of this young
officer set the major to thinking of that evening not so many moons
agone when Captain Wren himself appeared and in resonant, far-carrying
tone announced "Lieutenant Blakely, sir, is absent." He had been
thinking much of Blakely through the solemn afternoon, as he wandered
nervously about his darkened quarters, sometimes tiptoeing to the
bedside of his feebly moaning, petulant wife, sometimes pacing the
library and hall. He had been again for half an hour closeted with
Byrne and the Bugologist, certain letters being under inspection. He
hardly heard the young officer, Lynn, as he said "Troop 'C,' all
present, sir." He was looking beyond him at Captain Sanders, coming
striding over the barren parade, with import in his eye. Plume felt
that there was trouble ahead before ever Sanders reached the
prescribed six paces, halted, raised his hand in salute, and, just as
did Wren on that earlier occasion, announced in tones intended to be
heard over and beyond the post commander: "Sergeant Shannon, sir, with
one government horse, absent without leave."

Plume went a shade white, and bit his lips before he could steady
himself to question. Well he knew that this new devilment was due in
some way to that spirit of evil so long harbored by his wife, and
suffered by himself. All the story of the strife she had stirred in
the garrison had reached him days before. Downs's drunkenness and
desertion, beyond doubt, were chargeable to her, as well as another
and worse crime, unless all indications were at fault. Then there was
the breach between Carmody and Shannon, formerly stanch friends and
comrades, and now Carmody lay buried beneath the rocks in Bear Canon,
and Shannon, as gallant and useful a sergeant as ever served, had
thro