r the occasion, for it
belonged to Barker, the adjutant, as everybody knew--as Barker realized
to his cost when in less than ten seconds the commander summoned him.

"Mr. Barker, you will at once place Mr. Lanier in arrest for quitting
his guard and disobeying my orders."

"I shall have to--get my sabre, sir," stammered the adjutant, meaning
the regulation item over at his quarters.

"There it is, sir, before your eyes. Mr. Lanier, at least, can have no
further use for it until a court-martial acts on his case."

"Good Lord!" thought Barker, "how can I go up to Bob and tell him to
turn over that sword so that I can properly place him in arrest--and
here, too--and of all times----"

But the colonel would brook no delay. "Direct Mr. Lanier to report to me
in the anteroom," said he, marching thither forthwith, and that message
the luckless adjutant had to deliver at once.

Bob saw it coming in Barker's sombre visage. The girl on his arm
understood nothing (but noted the hush that had fallen, even though the
music went on; saw Barker coming, and something told her it meant
trouble, and turned her sweet face white).

"Miss Arnold, may I offer myself as a substitute for the rest of this
dance? Bob, the chief wants to see you a second," was the best that
Barker could think of. They praised him later for his "mendacity," yet
what he said was true to the letter. It took little more than a second
for the colonel to say:

"Mr. Lanier, go to your room in arrest," and Bob saluted, turned, and
went, unslinging the sword on the way.

[Illustration: "MR. LANIER, GO TO YOUR ROOM IN ARREST."]

Now, that was the first touch to spoil that memorable December night,
but it was only a feather to what followed. The waltz soon ceased, but
the colonel called for an extra, and led out a lady from town, the wife
of a future senator. "Keep this thing going," he cautioned his adjutant
and certain of his personal following, which was large, and loyally they
tried, but the piteous face of the girl he had left at the door of the
ladies' dressing-room and in the hands of Mrs. Sumter was too much for
Barker. Moreover, he much liked Lanier and bemoaned his fate.

Colonel Button was "hopping mad," as the quartermaster put it, and as
all men could see, yet at what? Lanier's offence, when fairly
measured, had not been so grave. It had happened half a dozen times that
the officer-of-the-guard, making his rounds and visiting sentries in the
course