"Now, Billy boy, they'll be sending you a note to keep your horse out of your front yard hereafter." But Blake had undershot the mark.
That evening there came bad news. Rallston had been named as one of the principal witnesses, and Ray had telegraphed and written to his sister at Omaha asking where he was. His letter explained the situation he was in, and, though he would say nothing to accuse her husband, he told her that one of the allegations was that he had accepted five hundred dollars from him as a bribe to induce him to "pass" certain horses. The facts were these: Rallston had been among the first to welcome him to Kansas City, had taken him to his own rooms, had been most cordial and kind, had brought all manner of loving inquiries from sister Nell, and an invitation from her to visit them at Omaha before his return. Ray did not and would not drink anything beyond a little wine at dinner, nor could he be induced to touch a card at play, though every evening some of Rallston's friends were there playing poker, and Ray was a laughing and interested spectator. In the course of two or three days Rallston had grown very confidential, and had finally, most gracefully, told Ray that he had disliked to mention it until he felt he knew him well, but that Nelly had told him her brother had some outstanding debts; he owed money to several different parties and it worried him; they were dunning him all at the same time, and he could only meet their claims successively. "Now," said Rallston, "why not let me be your banker? Let me hand you the amount you owe these fellows. Pay 'em off at once, and then you're a free man. You can repay me when you choose, and if you never do, why, it's all right—it's Nell's present to you. I've got several thousand dollars in the bank this moment that I've no use for;" and Ray had thanked him from the bottom of his heart and accepted. Later there began to grow a breach. Rallston had quickly seen how keen an eye Ray had for defects in horseflesh, and had striven to get him to accept some horses he knew to be "off color." Ray had firmly refused. Then, later, he asked Ray to sign an I. O. U. for the five hundred dollars, which was done, and the next thing he noticed Rallston was consorting with Gleason; and when the board adjourned there was no Rallston to say good-by. Ray went to Omaha and saw his sister, who was rejoiced to hear how generously her husband had behaved, but Ray was a trifle worried then at her repeated questions about him, though Nell was brave and buoyant as ever. She was living at the hotel until his return, and he did not return up to the time Ray left for the regiment. Ray had written to him and received no reply. Now he had written to her asking where he was, and then she broke down and told him. She had not seen her husband for a month, and had only an occasional line. She needed money at that moment and knew not where to find him. She thanked God they had no children.
This was one letter to cause Ray bitter anxiety. Another came that he read with infinite surprise, turned over the enclosure in his hand, rose and looked through his bureau-drawer, and then, with a long whistle of consternation and perplexity, shoved the note and enclosure into his pocket.
All that night he was restless and feverish. The next morning brought a new trouble. Once let a fellow get in arrest and all the buzzing contents of Pandora's box will be turned loose upon his unlucky head. He had risen late, could eat no breakfast, and his wound was troubling him. There came a knock at the door, and the orderly with the commanding officer's compliments,—"Was that horse of the lieutenant's private or public property?"
"Why, public, of course," said Ray; "but say to the colonel that each officer of the —th Cavalry has been allowed to use one horse for campaign purposes to be considered as his own."
Blake had gone off somewhere. It was too early for the ladies. Ray fretted and worried, wondering what this new move could portend, when he heard a row in the back-yard; and in came Hogan, full of fight and wrath.
"There's a doughboy sergeant out there, sir, as says he's ordered to take Dandy to the quartermaster's stables, an' I told him to go to blazes, an' whin he shtepped by me an' into the paddock an' began untyin' him, I told him he had a right to shpake to you furrst, an' he said he'd slap me into the gyard-house if I gave him any lip, and I turned the kay on him, sir, an' here it is. I locked 'em both in, sir. Shure they couldn't take the lootenant's horse without his knowin' it, sir."
Ray took the key and hobbled out to his back door, simply telling Hogan to come with him. He was thunderstruck at the idea of their taking Dandy from him. He never thought of that as a possibility—Dandy, who seemed after that wild night-ride to be part of himself.
"Go and open the door, and tell the sergeant to come here," said Ray.
But the instant the sergeant was released, he rushed out with fury in his eye, fell upon Hogan, seized him by the collar, and, with rage in every word and expletive, ordered him to go with him to the guard-house, swearing he'd teach him to resist an officer in the discharge of his duty. Hogan clinched his fist and looked first as though he would knock the sergeant into the next yard, which he was physically able to do, but discipline prevailed; he lifted neither hand nor voice, but simply looked appealingly at his own officer as the sergeant marched him past. Ray called to the irate infantryman to hold on a moment, he would explain; but Ray was in arrest and could give no orders. The sergeant knew that for the time being he was virtually the superior. He simply did not choose to hear the lieutenant, but went on with his prisoner across the parade, lodged him in the guard-house, then went to the quartermaster's and reported that he had been violently resisted by private Hogan, locked up by him in the paddock with the horse, and that as soon as he could get out he had "arrested private Hogan and confined him by your order, sir," the customary formula in such cases made and provided.