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Tonio, Son of the Sierras: A Story of the Apache War, a novel by Charles King |
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Chapter 10 |
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_ CHAPTER X The night had gone by without alarm. No further signals were seen. No runners came in. Poor Mrs. Bennett, under the influence of some soothing medicine, had fallen asleep. The doctor, coming in late from a visit to the hospital, found Harris still wakeful, but not so feverish, and 'Tonio, worn and wearied, stretched on a Navajo blanket, seemed sleeping soundly on the side piazza, just without the door. The general and Willett had sat and smoked, with an occasional toddy, until after the midnight call of the sentries, the former still expectant of the return of Sanchez; the latter pondering in mind certain theories of Wickham as to the Apache situation, to which at first he had paid little heed. If Wickham were right, then Sanchez might never have reached Prescott. If so, the general need never have to amend that report. And that the matter troubled Archer more than a little Willett was not too pleased to see. Moreover, it was evident that not only Bentley, the surgeon, but Strong, the young adjutant, Bucketts, the veteran cavalry subaltern doing duty as post quartermaster, and the three company officers of Archer's regiment stationed at Almy--all were determined to consider Harris decidedly in the light of the hero of the recent episode. It was a matter Willett would not discuss with them, nor, when they somewhat pointedly referred to Harris and his part in the affair, was it Willett's policy to say aught in deprecation. As "the representative of the commanding general" temporarily at the post, and observing the condition of affairs, it was his proper function to give all men his ear and none his tongue, to hear everything and say nothing. But the adjutant knew, and had not been able to keep entirely to himself, the fact that Sanchez was the bearer of a report adverse to Lieutenant Harris--that no modification thereof had been prepared--even after Harris was brought in dangerously wounded, the result of his daring effort to rescue an unfortunate woman from a fearful fate. The adjutant had gone so far as to hint to that much-loved lieutenant-colonel of infantry, Brevet Brigadier-General Archer, that he should be glad to write at his dictation a report setting Harris right, as surely as the other had set him wrong, and for the first time Strong found his commanding officer petulant and testy. It was exactly what Archer himself thought it his duty to do, yet he was annoyed that any one else should think so. Moreover, he had taken counsel with Willett, and Willett had said that he would be the last man to deny a classmate and comrade any honor justly his due, nor would he stand in the way of General Archer's writing anything he saw fit, but, as the officer present on the spot and cognizant of all the circumstances connected with Harris's going, he had yet a report to make to the department commander. "Frankly, general," said he, "I do not wish to say what I know unless I have to--and your changing your report might make it necessary." This had occurred the night before 'Tonio's coming, and now, in the silence of midnight, as the two sat smoking on the veranda, while Lilian lay in her little white room listening in wordless rapture, in sweet unrest, to the murmurous sound of the deep voice that had enthralled her senses, while Mrs. Archer, wife and mother, slept the sleep of the just and the wearied, the old general turned again to that subject that weighed so heavily on his heart and soul. "By heaven, Willett," he said, "here it is midnight and no Sanchez. If he isn't in by mail-time to-morrow I'll have to send a party--or else a courier--to Prescott." "Does the mail usually reach you Sunday, sir?" "Hasn't failed once since my coming! They send it by way of McDowell, over on the Verde. If Sanchez isn't here, or the mail either, I'll know that 'Tonio was right, that we're hemmed in, and that they have killed our messengers. And they are expecting to hear from me at head-quarters, and probably wondering at my silence. Another thing to be explained." "Another?" said Willett. "Another. Of course I must straighten out that matter about Harris. I own I sent it under wrong im--impressions. I thought at first he had ignored my authority, but that was unjust. The more I think of it, the more I blame myself." "Then--how you must blame me!" "Well--no! You doubtless feel that he did ignore you and your authority, though I own it wasn't my intention that you should assume command over him. You are both young and you perhaps judge more sharply than I, but I've learned to know the fallibility of human judgment. I've suffered too much from it myself, and the fact stares me in the face that Harris knew just what ought to be done, and went and did it. He rescued that poor creature at the risk of his life, and he--deserves the credit of it." Willett was silent a moment. He seemed reluctant to speak. Finally and slowly he said: "General Archer, it is an ungracious thing to pull down another man's reputation, especially when, as in this case, Harris and I are classmates and I, at least, am his friend. And, therefore, I still prefer to say nothing. I was in hopes that Captain Stannard and his fellows might be back by this time, with the Bennett boys for one thing, and with--the truth for another." "What truth?" demanded Archer. "The real truth--as I look upon it--the real credit of that rescue, you will find, sir, belongs to Stannard and his troop, with such little aid as they may have received from those who advised and guided them--the scouts. But for Stannard the hostiles would have gotten away, not only with Mrs. Bennett, but with Harris. Harris made a hare-brained attempt to rescue her single-handed. He only succeeded in running his own neck into a noose. Your wisdom, and God's mercy, sent Stannard just in the nick of time, and there's the whole situation in a nut shell." For a moment Archer was silent. Who does not like to hear praise of his wisdom, especially when self-inclined to doubt it? "But the doctor tells me Harris had the Indians on the run before ever Stannard was sighted--that he and his handful of scouts alone attacked, defeated and drove them, that his scouts were chasing them and were mistaken themselves for hostiles, and were fired at by Stannard's men at long range." "Yes," said Willett, with calm deliberation. "That is just the story I should expect Harris to tell." And sore at heart, and far from satisfied, the general suggested a nightcap, and Willett presently left him, though not, as it subsequently transpired, for the adjutant's quarters and for bed. It was late the following day before his next appearance near the Archers. Sunday morning had come, as peaceful and serene as any that ever broke on New England village, and Sunday noon, hot and still, and many an hour since early sun up anxious eyes had scanned the old McDowell trail, visible in places many a mile before it disappeared among the foothills of the Mazatzal, but not a whiff of dust rewarded the eager watchers. Archer's binocular hung at the south-west pillar of the porch, and another swung at the northward veranda of the old log hospital. The road to Dead Man's Canon wound along the west bank of the stream, sometimes fording it for a short cut, and that road, the one by which Sanchez should have come, was watched wellnigh as closely as the other. Nothing up to luncheon time had been seen or heard of human being moving without the limits of the post; nothing by Lilian Archer of her gallant of the night before. In times of such anxiety men gather and compare notes. The guard had been strengthened during the night, and its members sat long in the moonlight, chatting in low tone. The officer of the day, making the rounds toward two o'clock, noted that the lights were still burning at the store, and, sauntering thither, found a game going on in the common room--Dago seeking solace from his sorrows in limited monte with three or four employes and packers, while in the officers' room was still another, with only one officer present and participating. To Captain Bonner's surprise Lieutenant Willett, aide-de-camp, was "sitting in" with Bill Craney, the trader, Craney's brother-in-law and partner, Mr. Watts, Craney's bookkeeper, Mr. Case, a man of fair education and infirm character who had never, it was said, succeeded in holding any other position as long as six months. Here, as Craney admitted, he hadn't enough to occupy him three weeks out of the four, and, so long as he could tend to that much, he was welcome to "tank up" when he pleased. That clerk had been a gentleman, he said, and behaved himself like one now, even when he was drunk. The officers treated him with much consideration, but to no liquor. Willett, knowing nothing of his past, had been doing the opposite, and Mr. Case's monthly spree was apparently starting four days ahead of time. Moreover, Mr. Case seemed inspired by some further agent, for though unobtrusive, almost, as ever, he was possessed with a strange, feverish impulse to pit himself against Willett, and almost to ignore all others in the game. A fifth player was a stranded prospector whom Craney knew, and presumably vouched for. Luck must have been going Willett's way in violation of the adage, at the time of Bonner's entrance, for the table in front of him was stacked high with chips, and four men of the five were apparently getting excited. Bonner seldom played anything stronger than casino and cribbage, nor did he often waste an hour, night or day, in the card room. This night, however, he was wakeful, and had seen that which even made him a trifle nervous. He had visited every sentry post, finding his men alert and vigilant. 'Tonio's words had already been communicated to the guard, and self-preservation alone prompted every man to keep a sharp lookout. Bonner had noted as he stepped out on the side porch of his quarters, where hung the big earthen olla in its swathing bands, that 'Tonio lay, apparently sound asleep, at the side door of the doctor's quarters, and Bonner found himself pondering over the undoubted devotion of this silent, lonely son of the desert to the young soldier lying wounded within. Bonner left him as he found him. 'Tonio had not stirred. Barely twenty minutes thereafter, as he finished examination of the two sentries on the north front, and came down along the bank at the rear of the officers' quarters, he found Number Five, a Civil War veteran and, therefore, not easily excited, kneeling at the edge, with his rifle at "ready," gazing steadily toward a clump of willows at the stream bed, some five hundred feet away, listening so intently that the officer halted, rather than mortify him by coming on his post unchallenged. The brilliant moonlight made surrounding objects almost as light as day, and Bonner could see nothing unusual or unfamiliar along the sandy flat to the east. So, finally, he struck his scabbard against a rock by way of attracting Number Five's attention, and instantly the challenge came. "What was the matter, Five?" asked Bonner, after being advanced and recognized, and the answer threw little light upon the subject. "I wish I knew, sir, but there was some one--crying--down there in the bush--not five minutes ago." "Crying! You're crazy, Kerrigan!" "That's what I said, sir, when first I heard it, but--whist now!" Both men bent their ears--the veteran sentry, the veteran company commander. Both had spent years in service, in the South in the war days, in the West ever since, and neither was easily alarmed. As sure as they stood there somebody was sobbing--a low, heart-breaking, half-stifled sound, down there somewhere among the willows, that for two hundred yards, at least, lined the stream. "Come with me," said the captain instantly, and together the two went plunging down the sandy slope and out over the flats beneath, and into the shadows at the brink, and up and down the low bank between the fords, and not a living being could they find. "What first caught your ear?" asked Bonner, as together, finally, they came plodding back. "Sure, I heard the captain come out on his side porch for a drink at the olla, sir, and saw him step over and look at the doctor's place before starting for the guard-house, and I knew he'd be around this way and was thinking to meet him up yonder where Number Four is, when I heard Six down here whistling to me, and when I went Six said as how the dogs way over at the store was barking a lot, and he said had I seen or heard anything in the willows--he's that young fellow that 'listed back at Wickenburg after the stage holdup--and while we was talkin' he grabbed me and said, 'Listen! There's Indians out on the bluff! I heard 'em singing.' I told him he was scared, but when I came back along the bank I could have sworn I saw something go flashing into the willows from this side, an' then came the cryin', and then you, sir." Bonner turned straightway to his own quarters, to the side porch at the doctor's--and 'Tonio was gone. Peering within the open doorway, he saw the attendant nodding in his chair by the little table where dimly burned the nightlamp, close to the cot where Harris lay in feverish slumber. Next, the captain started for the post of Number Six, near the south-east corner of the rectangle, and there was the corporal and the relief, just marching away with "the young feller that 'listed in Wickenburg." A new sentry, another old soldier, had taken his place. There was nothing to do but tell him to keep a sharp lookout and report anything strange he saw or heard, particularly to be on lookout for 'Tonio. Then he pushed on after the relief, and then, catching sight of the lights at the trader's, strode briskly over there and stopped a few minutes, asking himself should he tell Willett what had been heard, and incidentally to watch the game. Willett, however, was engrossed. His eyes were dilated and his cheeks were flushed, albeit his demeanor was almost affectedly cool and nonchalant, and Bonner had not been there five minutes before a queer thing happened. Willett, playing in remarkable luck, had raised heavily before the draw. Case, with unsteady hand, had shoved forward an equal stack. The prospector and Craney shook their heads and dropped out. Only three were playing when Willett, dealing, helped the cards according to their demands, and for himself "stood pat." It was too much for the brother-in-law, but the bookkeeper, who had been playing mainly against Willett, and apparently foolishly, now just as foolishly bet his little stack, for without a second's hesitation Willett raised him seventy-five dollars. It was a play calculated to drive out a small-salaried clerk. It was neither a generous nor a gentleman's play. It was, moreover, the highest play yet seen at Almy, where men were of only moderate means. Even Craney looked troubled, and Watts and the prospector exchanged murmured remonstrance. Then all were amazed when Case drew forth a flat wallet from an inner pocket, tossed it on the table, and simply said, "See--and raise you." Now there was audible word of warning. Watts looked as though he wished to interpose, but was checked instantly by Case himself. "Been saving that for--funer'l expenses," said he doggedly, "but I'm backin' this hand for double what's in that." Craney lifted the wallet, shook it, and three fifty-dollar bills fluttered out upon the table. Willett looked steadily at Case one moment before he spoke: "Isn't this a trifle high for a gentleman's game?" said he. "That's what they said at Vancouver, two years ago, when you bluffed out that young banker's son." Willett half rose from his chair. "I thought I'd seen your face before," said he. "What I want to know," said the bookkeeper instantly, all deference to rank or station vanished from tone and manner, "is, do you see my raise now?" There was a moment's silence, during which no man present seemed to breathe. Then slowly Willett spoke: "No, a straight isn't worth it." Whereupon there was a moment of embarrassed silence as the stakes were swept across the blanket-covered table, then a guffaw of rejoiceful mirth from the prospector. Case, as though carelessly, threw down his cards, face upwards, and there was not so much as a single pair. "The drinks are on me, oh, yes," said he, "but the joke's on the lieutenant." Yet when Bonner left, five minutes later and the game again was going on, there was no mirth in it. Nor was there mirth when the sun came peeping over the eastward range this cloudless Sabbath morning, shaming the bleary night lights at the store--the bleary eyes at the table. Bonner found them at it still an hour after reveille, and ventured to lay a hand on Willett's shoulder. "Can I speak with you a moment?" he said. Willett rose unsteadily, but with dignity unshaken by change of fortune. He had lost as heavily, by this time, as earlier he had won. "May I be pardoned for suggesting that you would be wise to get out of this and--a few hours' sleep? The general is up and worried. 'Tonio is gone!" _ |
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