CHAPTER III.
It happened at a moment when Willett, seated at the right of "the ladyof the house," with Lilian at his dexter side, had caught the eye ofhis hostess, and, after the manner of the day, had raised his brimmingsherry glass and, bowing low, was drinking to her health, a feat thegeneral had thrice performed already. "If I'd only known of this,gentlemen," said their host, but a moment earlier, with resultantaccess of cordiality, "and could have found a drop of Angostura aboutthe post, we'd have had a 'pick-me-up' before dinner, but d'you knowI--I seldom have bitters about me. I've no use for cocktails. I nevertouch a drop of stingo before twelve at noon or after twelve at night.I agree with old Bluegrass. Bluegrass was post surgeon at the Presidiowhen the Second Artillery came out in '65, right on the heels of thewar, and he did his best to welcome them--especially Breck, theiradjutant, also a Kentuckian. Then he was ordered East, and he leftBreck his blessing, his liquor case, and this admonition--Breck told ithimself. 'Young man,' said he, 'I observe you drink cocktails. Now,take my advice and don't do it. You drink the bitters and they go toyour nose and make it red. You drink the sugar and it goes to yourbrain and makes it wopsy, and so--you lose all the good effects of thewhiskey'! Haw, haw, haw!" It was a story the genial old soldier muchrejoiced in, one that Stannard had bet he would tell before dinner washalf over, and it came with Doyle and the chickens. The kindly,wrinkled, beaming face, red with the fire of Arizona's suns, redder bycontrast with the white mustache and imperial, was growing scarlet withthe flame of Bentley's cherished wine, when in sudden surprise he notedthat the junior officer present, seated alone at his right (there wasno other girl in all Camp Almy to bid to the little feast, and Mrs.Stannard, in mourning for a brother, could not accept), had turned downthe little sherry glass. Thirty years ago such a thing was as uncommonin the army as fifty years ago it was unheard of in civil life. For oneinstant after the young officer's embarrassed answer the veteran satalmost as though he had heard a rebuke. It was Mrs. Archer who came tothe relief of an awkward situation. "Mr. Harris believes in keeping intraining," she ventured lightly. "He could not excel in mountainscouting without it. The general's scouting days are over and weindulge him." Indeed, it wasn't long before it began to look as thoughthe general were indulging himself. Claret presently succeeded thesherry, but not until Bentley's health had been drunk again and theorderly summoned from the front porch to go, with the general'scompliments, and tell him so. "This claret," he then declared, "is someI saved from the dozen Barry & Patton put aboard the Montana when Icame round to Yuma last year. It's older than Lilian," this with a fondand playful pinch at the rosy cheek beside him, "and almost as good. Nodiluting this, Mr. Willett," for he saw that young officer glancingfrom the empurpled glass to the single carafe that adorned the table,its mate having met dissolution when the general's chest was prematurelyunloaded in Dead Man's Canon _en route_ to the post. "Dilute yourCalifornia crudities all you like, but not the red juice from the sunnyvines of France. No, sir! Moreover, this and old Burgundy are the winesyou must drink at blood heat. No Sauturnes or Hocks or champagnes forus fire worshippers in Arizona! Lilian here and my blessed wife yonderdon't like these red wines for that reason. They want something to cooltheir dainty palates, but men, sir, and soldiers---- What's this,Bella, Bellisima? Salad--French dressing--and cool, too! Bravissima, mydear! How did you manage it? The olla? Why, of course! Cool anything.Cool my old head, if need be. Hey, Willett?"
And all this time, when not chatting with the debonair officer at herside or saying a word to his bronzed, sun-dried, silently observantcomrade opposite, Lilian's fond eyes forever sought her father'srubicund face, love and admiration in every glance. All this time, evenwhile in cordial talk with her guests, Mrs. Archer never seemed to losea look or word from her soldier liege; never once did her winsome smileor joyous laugh fail to reward his sallies; never once came there shadeof anxiety upon her beaming face. "The General" was the head of thathouse, and they were his loyal subjects. They even sipped at theoutermost ripple of the thimbleful of claret each had permitted Doyleto pour. Even when a loud "cloop" in the dark passageway to the kitchentold that another bottle was being opened as the omelet came in, bornealoft by white-robed Suey, crowned with red poppies and blue blazes,and set triumphantly before the mistress of the feast, Harris coulddetect no flutter of disapprobation. Even when, later still, thegeneral's eager hand, stretching forth for the dusky flagon (it wassacrilege to sweep away those insignia of age and respectability),managed to capsize the candelabrum and sent the fluid "adamantine"spattering a treasured table-cloth (how quick the dash of the youngtrooper's hand upon the flame--and its extinction!), a gentle smile wasthe sole rebuke, followed by a "Thank you, Mr. Harris. I hope youdidn't burn your hand! That's all my fault." The general declared itfoolish to put candles on the table when we could have sconces by thedozen on the walls.
Indeed, there must have been a dozen candles, not to mention the biglamps of forbidden kerosene upon shelf and sideboard, each backed byits reflector of glistening tin. "We were vain, you see," continuedMrs. Archer, "of our two old-fashioned heirlooms. Those quaintthree-socket sticks were brought by the general's grandfather fromEngland in Colonial days." It was so with everything they had, thoughthey had so little. The massive silver forks, the worn old spoons, thesquat little sugar bowl and creamer that came in later, all bore acrest and a single word. All had been "The General's" before ever thatwell-descended veteran had bent the knee in wooing. All had been storedin San Francisco until their coming to cheer his exile, but now wereduly paraded in honor of their first guests at Almy, the young scoutleader from the southern border, and his classmate, the newaide-de-camp of the commanding general; both, as was understood, toleave them on the morrow.
And all this time, too, though the windows, Arizona fashion, wereblanketed to exclude all heatful light throughout the day (those of thedining-room being hidden behind Navajo fabrics in black and white, andblue and crimson), the hallways were wide open that no breath of airmight be lost. The hounds clustered whimpering and wondering at thedoorways, front and rear, resentful of the vigilance with which theorderlies on duty withstood their dashes, they who long weeks andmonths had had the run of the house. Darkness had settled down upon thesandy parade. The lights gleamed along the opposite front, the longbarracks of the soldiery, and the stars were glinting bright above thebeetling pine crests beyond the murmuring stream. Over at the mess thesurgeon, the adjutant, quartermaster, Captain Bonner of the infantry,with his subaltern, and solemn Captain Turner, sat on the veranda,smoked their pipes, and even while keeping up a semblance of talk, hadan eye and an ear on the bungalow--the "Old Man's" quarters not threehundred feet away. The boom of his jovial laughter still rang out uponthe air, and presently the tinkle of guitar, the swish of femininegarments, the rasp of chairs and the merry mingling of voices told thatthe little dinner party, the first the camp had ever known--for what isa dinner party without women--had quit the table and gathered on theporch. By this time, too, an unclouded moon had sailed aloft frombehind the screen of eastward heights, and its beams were pouringslantwise upon the group, that portion of it, at least, that now wasseated near the southern end. They who watched were not slow to seethat Lilian had taken a chair within a few feet of the edge, withWillett still in close attendance. The red heart of the general's cigarwas visible midway between the window and the central doorway, but thejovial host was wrapped in shade. The light from the doorway fell uponthe white gown of Mrs. Archer and the trim, slender, undersized figureof Lieutenant Harris, standing before her. They heard the general'svoice, cordial and resonant, uplifted presently in protest: "No, don'tgo yet, boy. Let 'Tonio take care of himself to-night. I want you bothto hear Lilian sing. Here, orderly, you go find 'Tonio and give him mycompliments--No! you just tell 'Tonio _I_ want to see him."
The orderly with Archer, as with many another post commander, was thefinal resort, the cure-all, the infallible means of settlement of allmatters in dispute. The orderly went and stood not on t
he order of hisgoing. He knew not 'Tonio, nor where to find him, but he knew betterthan to say so--to say anything. He went straightway to the sergeant ofthe guard, than whom no man is supposed to know more what is going onabout the post. That Harris might have the pleasure of hearing thepromised song (he surely could not think of going now) the messdevoutly hoped, and were in nowise too content when the sound ofmoving, of people getting to their feet, and of Archer's jocundwelcome, told that callers had come to join the recent revellers, andthat meant, of course, the Stannards, for there was really no one else.And then it was remembered that Stannard had said that Mrs. Archer hadasked that they should come over after dinner, since they could notwell attend it. Lilian's singing was something all save these two youngsoldiers had already heard, enjoyed and longed to hear again, and themess could not but wish that old Stannard had not been so exact in hisinterpretation, and punctual in his acceptance of that invitation.There followed a few minutes of general talk and laughter, and thenArcher's voice was again dominant. Nothing would do but that theStannards both come in and taste that famous claret (which neitherdesired _after_ dinner, however much it might then have been enjoyed).Then all went trooping in-doors again, all save Lilian and LieutenantHarris, for presently these two came sauntering into the moonlight atthe southward end of the veranda. The girl resumed her seat and guitar;the young officer the chair lately occupied by Willett, and here fullten minutes were they in conversation when the orderly came stalkingback from the guard-house; the quintette came flocking forth from thehallway, and Willett, coming to resume his seat and chat, found hisclassmate in possession. It was the first opportunity that had fallento Harris, and if Willett hoped or expected that he would rise andsurrender in his favor he was doomed to disappointment. Harris never somuch as turned his head.
They were an odd contrast, these two young graduates of the nation'ssoldier school, as they looked to Captain Stannard that November night.He spoke of it to his wife and thought of it long after, for he, too,had come toward the little group a bit impatient, it must be owned, ofthe general's mellow monologue, and wearying of a conversation in which_he_ had no part. But here again Stannard found scant opportunity.Miss Archer, bending slightly forward, was, with much animationdescribing to Mr. Harris the brilliant ball given by the artillery atthe Presidio just before they were hurried off to that fatal Modoc war.Harris, caring little for the affair, and possibly hearing little ofwhat she was saying, sat as though drinking in every word, and gazingenthralled upon the beauty of her sweet young face. He, too, wasbending forward, his lithe, slender, supple frame clad in the trimundress uniform of the day, his clear-cut face, with its thin, almosthollow cheeks, tanned brown by the blazing suns of the southern desert,his hair cropped close to his shapely head, his gray-blue eyes, large,full and steady, fixed unswerving upon her. Leaning on his elbow, onelean brown hand was toying with the sun-bleached ends of his mustache,the other, with the class ring gleaming in the moonlight, lay idly onhis knee. Lacking stature, size or weight, the physical attributes thatmake a man impressive, he looked the picture of the young athlete, firmand fit and trained for speed and staying power, yet cold in hissteel-like strength and quality.
Overtopping him, standing where he, too, could hear and gaze, elegantin form, graceful in pose, and precise in dress, the picture ofchivalric officer and gentleman, Hal Willett had the advantage ofnearly six more inches in height, a presence that was at oncecommanding and assured, and a face as strikingly handsome as that ofHarris was severely plain. Willett's eyes and hair were of a deep,lustrous brown, his eyebrows thick and heavily arched, his mouth soft,sensitive, with lips that were beautifully curved and teeth that werewhite and well-nigh perfect. His mustache, though long and curling, wascarefully trained away so as to hide none of the charms that lurkedbeneath. He looked at once the knight of the ballroom and thebattlefield, a man to make his mark in either contest, love or war, andmake it he had. Life had been full of gifts to Harold Willett. He camefrom old border stock. His name was first of the presidential ten theyear he entered the Point, first on the list of cadet corporals in theyearling June and first among the first sergeants the following year.An uncontradicted rumor had it that he could have been sergeant-major,but that he told the commandant his ambition lay in the seniorcaptaincy, and first captain he had been named his first class summer,only to lose it late in August, the penalty of a rash and forbiddenexploit for the sake of a smile, and possibly a caress, and lose it tothe man who, starting at the foot of the list of his chevroned fellowstwo years before, had risen only to "late sergeant" of a centre companywhen they came from furlough, but, standing foremost in "Tactics," wellup in every subject but French and drawing, and impeccable in conduct,won a captaincy in spite of his lack of inches. Graduating a dozenfiles ahead of his brilliant comrade, Harris had sought and woncommission in the cavalry, was sent to duty in New Mexico and then inArizona, ever roughing it in the deserts or the mountains until inphysique he was hard as hickory, and in spirit wellnigh as elastic.Never until this recent experience in the Apache Mohave country had heshown symptom of discouragement. Now it was the more noticeable becausecoupled, it would seem, with distrust--distrust of him who had been fortwo years past an inseparable guide and even comrade, 'Tonio, "_grancapitan_" of Indian scouts.
And even as he sat there absorbed in the sweet vision in the moonlightbefore him, studying the play of her sensitive lips, forgetful for themoment of all else about him, there fell across the glistening boardingat her feet the shadow of a turbaned head, at sight of which shestarted, with faint, half-suppressed cry of fright; then, as thoughashamed, broke into a nervous little laugh. Harris was in an instant onhis feet, and whirling, confronted 'Tonio, tall, gaunt, silent,impassive.
"_Que quiere?_" he demanded, in the blunt vernacular of the service. Itannoyed him that subordinate of his should thus appear unseen, unheard,unsummoned, and to her affright. He forgot the noiseless sand, thesoft-soled moccasins, the native stealth; forgot at the moment thegeneral's mandate and the orderly's mission. It flashed upon him at'Tonio's quiet answer, grave, unresentful, and in the Apache tongue.
"My chief called me."
"Pardon me just one moment, Miss Archer. I'll come back at once," saidHarris, bending over the still trembling girl. Then, turning sharplyand bidding 'Tonio follow, his eyes met those of Willett, smilingaffably.
"I'll keep it while you're gone, Hefty," said he, with laughing ease ofmanner, sliding promptly into the vacated seat. "Now, Miss Archer, ifyou'll be so good as to go right on where you left off, I'll be allgratitude and attention."
Without answer, Harris stepped lightly over to where the general andStannard were now deep in one-sided argument over the merits of awar-time leader, known well to men of the Union Army east or west; thegeneral declaiming, the junior listening, unconvinced. It was one pointon which they differed widely, one on which the general was apt todilate when warmed by wine. He had had only moderate aid from Willettin disposing of two bottles of sound old claret, and one was enough toset the garrulous tongue to wagging. He would not cease at sight ofHarris, standing silent and respectful before him. Stannard had tointerpose and say, "You sent for 'Tonio, sir, as I happened to hear,"as indeed they all did, far and near, whereat the veteran turned.
"Bless my soul, boy, so I did! What for, I wonder?"
"To save my going over with night orders for the scouts, I think, sir,"said Harris promptly, "and, unless you wish to see him personally, I'lltell him now."
"_Must_ you make so early a start, Harris? It's only thirty miles tothe canon."
"I know, sir, but I need to be at Bennett's before sunrise. Theirscouts would see us if we started later. We go on to the canon after Ihave examined that neighborhood."
"All right, then. Buckets will issue rations at once. Start when youthink best. But now, Stannard, see here; if he was such a stayer and soenergetic in Virginia, how do you account for----"
But Harris had saluted and turned away, 'Tonio at his heels. As theypassed the end
of the veranda, where sat Lilian and her listener,Harris noted that the latter had drawn his chair much closer than hehad dared, and was bending forward until the handsome dark head wasalmost over the fair hand toying with the guitar that lay idly in herlap. The modern vernacular for the successful squire of dames was thenunknown. The girl, who had been leaning forward, all chat and animationwhen Harris sat there, now lay dreamily back in the rude but easychair, her eyelids drooping, her long lashes sweeping the soft cheek,listening, drinking in the murmurous flow of Willett's almost inaudiblewords, and the stern young face of his classmate hardened in themoonlight, for Harris had seen and heard before. Briefly he gave hisinstructions to the silent Apache and closed with the sign, "I havespoken. That is all."
But 'Tonio did not stir. Something, possibly, in Willett's devotionalattitude vaguely troubled the girl, and, edging back in her chair, shehad lifted a little slippered foot from the floor. The general at themoment was talking loud enough to drown other sounds about him. Theaide-de-camp, his dark eyes glowing and riveted on those of the fairface so near him, seemed deaf to everything but his own eloquence. Butthe Indian had placed one hand on his young officer's wrist, and withthe other stood pointing at some object coiled underneath Lilian'schair, not half an arm's length from the little foot that dangled inits silken stocking but a hand's-breadth from the floor. At that momentWillett bent impressively, still nearer, and instinctively Lilian moveda hand as though about to edge farther away. It was at this veryinstant that Harris spoke, his voice, absolutely calm, even to thesemblance of a drawl, but every word told clear, distinct, and, inspite of its courtesy, commanding, compelling.
"Miss Archer and--ah--Willett, be good enough to sit perfectly still amoment. Don't--move--a muscle!"
Even the general, for a wonder, had ceased--for breath, perhaps--andsat speechless and startled, for noiseless and stealthy as a cat, withlong strides, 'Tonio had skirted the edge of the veranda, and withagile spring was at the back of Lilian's chair. There he swoopedinstantly. There was sound of strident, rasping sk-r-r-r-rr: then alightning snap, as of a whip. Something black and writhing went flyinginto the sand, and then squirming blindly away, and 'Tonio straightenedto his full height, and without a word strode from the veranda.
"In God's name, what was that?" cried the general, springing from hischair and hastening to his daughter's side.
"Nothing but a snake, sir," said Harris quietly, strolling toward them."_That_ one's done for, anyhow!"