"No," said the major, shortly. "Captain Ray needs no more."
"I only asked because Field isn't here, and I thought—maybe—" stumbled Ross, ingloriously, but the mischief was done.
"Mr. Field is—busy," answered the major, still more shortly, then reddened to his bushy brows, for at the doorway, in riding dress, and with a face the color of parchment, stood the officer in question. It was a moment that threatened panic, but Webb met the crisis with marked aplomb.
"Oh, Field," he cried, "there's another matter. I want two good men to slip out at once and see how many of Stabber's people start or have started. It may be daybreak before they can tell. Sergeant Schreiber would be a tiptop man for one—and little Duffy. You 'tend to it."
And so, mercifully, he sent the lad away until the crowd should have dispersed. Only Blake and Ray were with him when, after awhile, Mr. Field returned and stood silently before them. Well he knew that the post commander could hardly overlook the absence of his adjutant at such a time.
"Have you anything to tell me, Field?" was the major's only query, his tone full of gentle yet grave reproach.
"I was restless. I could not sleep, sir. I went out—purposely."
"You know no horse can be taken from the stables at night except in presence of the sergeant or corporal of the guard."
"I took none, sir," was the answer, and now both faces were white. "I rode one of—Mr. Hay's."
For one moment there was no sound but the loud ticking of the big office clock. Then came the question.