But that band was a host in itself, and why should women weep and mope and mourn—with music and the dance so easily accessible? Mrs. Leonard's letters to Mrs. Cranston became vividly interesting just about this time. The hops were resumed, as well as the drives with friends in town. Mr. Langston came no longer, but the bank and the Cattle Club poured forth their homage. Messrs. Burtis, Courtenay, and Fowler were out twice a week at least. Then Mr. Willett's beautiful team reappeared, and presently Mr. Willett himself, and he had brought still another step from the distant sea-shore. It is only the first step that counts, and Mira had taken that. Mrs. Leonard thought she was learning another. She danced as beautifully, dressed as divinely, smiled as bewitchingly, and talked as inanely as ever. Mr. Leonard disapproved of Mr. Willett, but that could not keep him off the post. When mid-July came Willett was there almost every day. Twice he remained overnight, sleeping at the sutler's. The chaplain had been to talk with Mr. Leonard, and had tried to talk with Mira, but she fled from him in tears. What he said to her was dreadful!—dreadful! and she should tell Mr. Davies about it just as soon as he returned. "I," said the chaplain, gravely, "shall not wait till then. I shall have to write and tell him now."
Meantime Captain Devers occupied his quarters in gloomy state and twice each day patrolled the garrison limits with the air of an injured man. At other times he was writing long letters and reading those which came to him by every mail, but none came now from the faithful henchman Haney, far away on the Indian trail with Tintop's pursuing column. Red Dog was known to be with a remnant of his band somewhere in the wild Bad Lands to the north of the Ska, and the last heard from the colonel was that he, with six troops of the Eleventh, was scouring the southern limit of those dismal features of our frontier landscape, looking for Red Dog not far to the north of Antelope Springs. Devers had been truculent in his demand for speedy trial up to the third week in July,—up to the twentieth of the month in fact,—but that day brought telegraphic sensation. Tintop had found and struck Red Dog's camp at dawn on the sixteenth, guided thither by Thunder Hawk himself, had struck hard and heavily, scattering not only Red Dog's people to the hills but destroying their village and burning another that from its foul condition seemed to have been standing there all winter. Red Dog himself was killed, fighting like a tiger, and "A" Troop under Hastings and Davies had won the distinction of heading the charge, doing most of the work, and losing more in killed and wounded than the others combined. Hastings was shot through the arm and crippled. Corporal Boyd, one of Devers's pets, was killed, so were two troopers, and Sergeant Haney had received what was reported to be a mortal wound. Leaving a small guard with his invalids and invoking aid from Major White's infantry battalion, now garrisoning the stockade where the new post was to be built, Tintop had gone on into the hills to continue the work of breaking up the bands, Davies commanding "A" Troop, and not until the thirtieth was he heard from again.
But meantime Lieutenant Archer, of the general's staff, who had accompanied the cavalry column, was staying with the wounded, and had removed them from the smoking, malodorous neighborhood of the ruined villages, and could be found, he wrote, with his charges at Antelope Springs. This was news at which Leonard's eyes flashed. It was tidings at which Devers turned very pale. The latter begged for authority to go at his own expense and at once, and without a guard, though it involved five days of buckboard driving or saddle work from Pawnee Station, to join his wounded men. "Debarred," said he, "from the right to battle with my men, I pray that I may at least be permitted to minister to their needs,—they who have so gloriously maintained the honor and credit of their troop." But the adjutant-general at department head-quarters smiled sarcastically and said that this, with others of Devers's letters and telegrams, deserved to be framed. August came, and Devers again clamored to be brought to trial or relieved from arrest, and two evenings later, as he sat in gloomy state upon his piazza, he was amazed to see the adjutant turn grimly into the gate and calmly stand attention before him.
"Captain Devers," said he, "I am directed by the post commander to read to you this despatch:
"'Commanding Officer, Fort Scott:
"'Notify Captain Devers that his letters have been received, and that the court for his trial will convene not later than the fifteenth instant.
"'By command of General ——.'"
And when it is remembered that he had persistently demanded prompt trial it is surprising that the accused officer looked completely disconcerted. The fact of the matter was Captain Devers had no idea that the members and witnesses could be brought together again before mid-September, if then. That night he sat up writing until very late, and sent two messages away by wire. He was sorely troubled now, but could he have seen the group gathered solemnly about the dying sergeant far away at Antelope Springs, and heard his faint, whispered words as Archer took them down, Devers would have stood aghast.
A charming little informal dance was going on at the fort one August evening about a week later. The Leonards would not attend them now, but with five such belles as Mesdames Stone, Darling, Davies, Flight, and Plodder, to say nothing of other lesser lights of the garrison galaxy, there was no lack of womanly beauty, only the cavaliers were short. One officer, an infantry subaltern, represented the martial element, the other men were civilians. Courtenay had brought out two Eastern friends; Burtis was on hand as usual, and Willett, metaphorically, at least, at Mira's feet. The poor girl actually lacked the sense to see that his infatuation was such that he had no eyes, ears, or senses left for any one else. Possibly she gloried in his devotion. At all events he danced with her again and again and watched her jealously when she danced with others. At last towards eleven o'clock Leonard suddenly appeared at the door of the dancing-room, holding an open letter in his hand, and beckoned to his comrade. "I'll have to trouble you to come with me to the quartermaster's storehouse," said he. "There is a chest there that must be opened to-night." And though the lieutenant was surprised, he, in common with everybody else in the Fortieth, had learned that Leonard rarely opened his mouth except to speak by authority, and so went with barely a word to the ladies left behind, nor did he return in ten minutes, as he said he would. The old non-commissioned officer left in charge of the "A" company stores was awaiting their coming with the quartermaster sergeant. He looked troubled and perplexed when Leonard handed him the key and bade him unlock and open Sergeant Haney's chest. "I ought to have the orders of the company commander, sir," he began. "I mean Captain Devers."
"Captain Devers is not the commanding officer," said Leonard, quietly. "Here is the written order of the owner, Sergeant Haney, and the instructions of Lieutenant Hastings. The actual commanding officer of the company is with it in the field." So no more was said.