From the Picacho, it seems, both Strong and Bonner had made out through their glasses two tiny black dots in the direction of Bennett's ruined ranch, coming slowly toward the post, but still five or six miles away. From the platform, forty minutes later, two horsemen had distinctly been seen moving swiftly about, close to the willows that lined, in places, the rocky stream bed. More than this, the general was sure he had caught sight of three or four figures afoot, skipping actively about when moving at all. What he and his advisers believed was that Sergeant Woodrow and his comrades were, for some reason, trying to make their way back to Almy and had found Apaches barring the way. Therefore had Strong and his little party been sent forth to meet, to aid, to bring them in. Therefore had Willett, of his own motion this time, and without the delegated authority he bore when following Harris, set forth at speed to overtake them, forgetful, in the eagerness of the moment and the possible over-excitement of his faculties, that he had promised Archer to be back just as soon as he'd got his Colt—that calibre 44 Colt now belted at his hip, with every chamber loaded.
And now as the eager watchers at the platform trained their glasses on the distant field, Bucketts, taking up the handsome binocular left by the aide-de-camp, had time to notice its fine silver mounting and the engraved "H. Willett, U.S.A.," in exactly the same script as that which adorned the revolver. Then, as he adjusted it to his eyes, it occurred to him to tell the doctor of Harris's coming to the side door, and of his most earnest language and manner, whereat the general turned sharply:
"What's that? Harris said no Apache-Mohaves?"
"No Apache-Mohaves in the affair at Bennett's Ranch, sir, on 'Tonio's authority, and Willett scoffed at both statement and 'Tonio."
"By heaven," said Archer, "'Tonio was right in saying we were cut off, isolated here, and if he hadn't slipped away in that mysterious fashion I'd rather take his word than—than Willett's impressions. Where has Willett been—all morning—anyhow? He never came near me!"
Everybody within earshot knew, and nobody answered. Archer looked queerly about him. Bonner and Briggs gazed fixedly through their glasses. Bucketts was absorbed in the adjustment of his. The doctor said he must go over and give Harris a rebuke for getting up, and started forthwith, and Archer, without further question, turned again to his survey. He was of the old army—and knew the signs.
For a moment every living object up the valley seemed to be shut from view. Bonner, by way of changing the subject, had so far "white-lied" as to exclaim "There they are again!—er—no," but the ruse was unnecessary; Archer understood. Almost at the moment, however, came a sound from the open windows of the matron's room, adjoining the hospital, against which all present would willingly have closed their ears—the prolonged, heart-breaking, moaning cry of a woman robbed of all she held dearest—poor Mrs. Bennett waking once more to her direful sorrows, and filling the air with her hopeless wail. For a moment it dominated all other sound. "For heaven's sake, doctor," cried Archer to the assistant, "can't you and Bentley devise something to still that poor creature? Has she lost her mind, too?"
"Sounds like it, sir. There's only one thing that will bring it back—that's those babies."
"If anybody can get 'em it will be Stannard," answered the general prayerfully. "This, whatever it is, up the valley may be news from him and of them! God grant it!"
"Look!" cried Bonner at the instant. "I see Willett! See him?—galloping up that—— Why, hell and blazes—I beg your pardon, general—he's 'way out beyond Strong's people! See 'em—down there by the willows? Where in—— Gad! d'ye see that? Why, his horse jumped and shied as if he'd—— Look! He's running away! He's gone!"