Gone he had. Not once again, before the going down of the sun, now just tangent to the western heights, did they catch sight of Willett or Willett's horse. One after another the watchers again found Strong within the field of vision and followed him down to and across the stream, and others of the mounted party were seen, some wearily following their officer, others moving about a point among the willows where last had been seen the two strangers whose odd movements led to the going forth of the searching party. But it was half an hour later, and light was growing dim in the valley, while the eastward crests of the Mogollon were all ablaze, when a single rider was made out coming homeward at speed. It was dusk at Almy when his panting horse struggled painfully up the slope and, dismounting, a weary rider saluted the post commander and handed him a note. By this time Mrs. Archer, Mrs. Stannard and Lilian, too, were on the platform, and the mother's arm stole instinctively about the daughter's slender waist, while every eye was on the general as he quickly opened, then slowly read aloud the pencilled words:
"We have the couriers safe. They are from up the Verde, badly scared and worn out. Say they have been chased by Indians ever since three o'clock, were almost out of ammunition. Lieutenant Willett, venturing too far on the east side, while we were to the west of the stream, must have encountered some of them. We heard firing, and followed. Found his horse dead among the rocks and Willett lying near, stunned, but certainly not shot. Could see nothing of his assailants. Ambulance needed. Respectfully,
"Strong."
Mrs. Archer's arm wound still closer about her daughter's trembling form. Lilian said no word, but her face was white, her soft lips were quivering. Mrs. Stannard sympathetically closed in on the other side, as the general gave brief directions, and presently, between the two, the girl walked slowly away, only the general following with his eyes. Bentley went back once again to quietly tell the news to Harris, but was ready when the ambulance stopped at his door. Lilian had been persuaded to go and lie down, said Mrs. Archer, when her grave-faced husband came home at dark. "That is best," was all he said, but he turned and took his fond wife's face between his hands and kissed it thrice, then went forth again to meet the coming couriers. It seems their orders were to deliver their despatch in person to the commander of Camp Almy, and, sending them on for refreshments, he read by the light of a lantern the message from the commander of the District of the Verde. Young warriors by the hundred were out, said the agent at the reservation, even the Apache-Mohaves. Mail messengers, ranch people and others had been murdered close to Camp Sandy. Friendly Indians report soldiers killed in Dead Man's Cañon in revenge for death of Comes Flying, accidentally shot. Captain Tanner and Lieutenant Ray are out from Camps Sandy and Cameron, with strong commands, and will try to communicate with Almy. "Nothing has been heard of Lieutenant Harris and his scouts," said the despatch, "but rumors are rife as to Indian depredations near you. It is feared that in your advanced position you may be surrounded, and communication cut off, but no fears are entertained as to your ability to take care of yourself. If you still have cavalry scouting in the Tonto basin, warn them of conditions and report when possible."
"So much for so much," said the general. "Now for Willett," and a mile farther out he met the ambulance coming in, Willett and the doctor aboard, the former with a broken collar-bone and a bad headache. Moreover, Willett was in vicious mood.
"General Archer," said he, "the shot that killed my horse was meant for me, and the Indian who fired the shot was Harris's paragon, 'Tonio."
CHAPTER XIII.
That was a stirring night at Almy. The general, contrary to habit, was very grave and quiet, saying little, drinking nothing, even the customary toddy being declined. The doctor, also contrary to habit, was drinking a little and thinking a lot, but saying nothing. An abstemious man, as a rule, and a temperate man at all times, he seemed inclined to sample his Monongahela more than once before midnight, when, having gotten his patients to sleep, he tried to do likewise. "They are on an even keel again," said Bonner, referring to the two casuals, "and I am not sorry to see it." Evidently there had been comparison of notes between Strong and Bonner, and an agreement of some kind, for both held that Willett had exceeded his authority, as well as his discretion, in conducting a single-handed charge on an outnumbering enemy, secretly hidden behind rocks and ridges. Strong's men said that Lieutenant Willett, spurring hard, had called across the stream for them to follow him, and three of those nearest the bank plunged through the shallows and were barely three hundred yards behind him when, from their right front among the rocks at the foot of a bluff, the shot was fired that wounded the lieutenant's horse, which veered at once and ran away down among the willows. No, they hadn't charged. They turned, too. For all they knew, there might have been a thousand Apaches in hiding there, and when the lieutenant turned they turned. It was not until Lieutenant Strong and the rest of the men came up with them that they pushed ahead and found the officer and his horse lying among the rocks by the stream. Willett had been hurled out of saddle when the frenzied beast went suddenly down, and there he lay, stunned and bleeding, while the poor brute was quivering in the agonies of death.
"Did you see anything of 'Tonio?" Strong was asked, as a matter of course.
"Not so much as a shred of his breechclout," said Strong, "nor of any other Indian nearer than a mile away, and they were running for the rocks. It was too dark to do any trailing." But for the shot that killed Willett's horse, and the tremendous tales of the courier scouts, Strong would have been inclined to say there were not a dozen Indians in the north valley. "If there were more," said he, "and if they were really hostile, even though afoot as they were, was it likely that two couriers on worn-out horses could have escaped them? No," said Strong. "There is something about it we don't understand, neither does Willett, for all he's so positive."