"Verily," said Truman, "there is quite a batch of interesting evidence trundling over the Union Pacific to-day," and this was before he had read that significant despatch from Scott.
But when he read and had pondered over it a moment, the captain suddenly left the company of his fellows and strode away after Leonard, now gloomily pacing the platform a dozen yards away.
"Man alive!" said he, "if they left last night what could they do but take this train?"
Leonard nodded, darkly. Then again, after a moment's silence, Truman spoke.
"Could he have been so mad, do you think, as not to have thought of that,—of some one being on that train?"
"No one at the fort knew. How was he to suspect when up to yesterday we all supposed Davies would come down the Yellowstone."
Truman shuddered. "She ought to be in now," said he. "Just think of the tragedy there may have been."
The train was late,—half an hour late, said the official at the train-despatcher's office. No, there hadn't been any accident or excitement up the road that he'd heard of. He really didn't know what caused it. Did she reach and leave Braska on time? Yes, the delay occurred this morning somewhere,—began after leaving Kearney.
Then there had been no excitement, no tragedy farther up the road. There was comfort in that, said Truman. But there had been a sensation at old Fort Scott, such as these counsellors little dreamed of.
For a brief time after their return from the cantonment Mrs. Davies and her new friend, Mrs. Plodder, had kept house together. In those days when so many of our officers were almost constantly in the field, it became quite the thing for some of the ladies left at the garrisons to club together, share expenses, and thereby economize. Old No. 12 was still at Mira's service, but she couldn't bear the house, she said, and so the ladies moved their furniture into an abandoned bachelor den next to Flight's, and for a few days all went merrily. Then there came a servants' squabble, and their cook differed with Mrs. Flight's maid-of-all-work, and, refusing arbitration, was impudent to her employers. Mrs. Plodder was an Amazon in whom there was no weakness. She discharged the cook and sent her back to Braska. Then they "messed" with Mrs. Flight, and about this time the hops began and the visits from town and the drives, and Mrs. Plodder presently conceived it to be her duty to remonstrate with Mira, who wept and stormed, and after a time, as Willett's visits began to grow frequent, Mrs. Plodder said she would not remain under the same roof with Mira, and moved over and kept house with Mrs. Darling. The Cranston household had gone East some time before this, and, as Mira could not bear the chaplain's worthy wife, and Mrs. Stone had become estranged, and Mrs. Darling, with Mrs. Plodder, had decided that she was openly encouraging Mr. Willett's devotions and told her so, and as Mrs. Leonard held aloof from them, one and all, it must be admitted that the poor brainless child was restricted in her choice of friends and intimates. Davies had had but brief time in which to give her instructions, and there is no use in setting forth their purport. He asked Mrs. Cranston, if a possible thing, to give his wife the benefit of her experience and aid her in any way Mira might need, and Margaret warmly assured him that she was ready at any time and glad to be of any and every service to Mrs. Davies, but even in so saying she felt well assured that there was little hope of being of use. What made the matter worse was that this summer Congress adjourned without making provision for the pay of the army, even while expecting it to perform rather more than its customary functions; but here Cranston stepped in and insisted on placing at Mrs. Davies's disposal a certain sum in Courtenay's bank at Braska. Davies could return it when Uncle Sam resumed payment, and so Mira had been provided with a check-book and taught its use. She was, at least, to have no financial anxieties. The regiment had to remain long in the field and the Cranstons went home, as Davies expected and had advised that Mira go with them to Chicago. Even if her people could not make her welcome at Urbana, she could board there with former friends in perfect comfort, and be ready to rejoin him by and by. Many and many an army wife and mother had similarly to live a Bedouin life that summer. One cavalry regiment, the —th, for instance, was scattered from Cheyenne to Chicago, facing riotous mobs one month and chasing Indians all over the upper Yellowstone the next. One thing Davies firmly yet gently strove to impress upon Mira,—that her intimates at Scott were not at all the women with whom a poor and debt-burdened officer's wife should foregather. He begged her to be guided by Mrs. Cranston and Mrs. Leonard, and wrote a brief line to the chaplain, commending Mira to his care, and then he had to go.