But one hope remained to him—that the movement in Southwest Missouri might be successful and Independence and Lexington captured. If so, the blow must be struck, and struck quickly. It had been ordered, but Colonel Clay was afraid it would not be struck quickly enough. Therefore when he saw Mark his face brightened.
"Ah, my boy, I learned weeks ago that your mission was entirely successful. You are a faithful courier, and I have another job for you."
"The one he had nearly proved the death of him," spoke up Mr. Chittenden. "The hardships of the trip were too much for him, and he lay for days with a return of the fever."
"He must go; I can trust no one else," cried Clay. "He is a soldier. I command him."
"I need no commands. I will go," said Mark proudly, drawing himself up.
"That's the talk. I knew I could depend on you," replied Clay.
When Grace learned Mark was to go again, she solemnly assured him that if he did and got the fever, he would have to look for someone else to nurse him, but her voice trembled and tears gathered in her eyes as she bade him good-bye.
As for Mark, he only said as he rode away, "God bless you, if I never see you again."
After Mark had gone Colonel Clay apologized to Mr. Chittenden for sending him, saying there were so few he could trust with so delicate a mission. Then with an oath he exclaimed, "Chittenden, there is a traitor somewhere. Schofield got hold of our entire plans in regard to this uprising. If I only knew who it was." He brought his fist down with a resounding blow on the table beside which they were sitting.
"Have you any suspicion?" asked Mr. Chittenden.