"Go, boys, go!" implored Folsom. "I'll see you by and by. No—no—sit still, Burleigh. Don't you speak. This must stop right here."
And so the old man's counsels prevailed, and the two friends, with grave, pallid, but determined faces, came out into the sunshine, and with much deliberation and somewhat ostentatious calm proceeded to where the orderly waited with the horses.
"You will see—the ladies out to camp, Loomis?" asked Dean. "I must gallop on ahead."
"Ay, ay, go on, I reckon——"
But on this scene there suddenly appeared a third party, in the partial guise of an officer and the grip of Bacchus. Lurching down the office steps, with flushed face and bloodshot eyes, came Captain Newhall.
"Gen'l'm'n," said he thickly, "le'm 'ntroduce m'self. Haven't th' honor y'r 'quain's. I'm Ca'm New(hic)'ll. Cap'n N-n-(hic)oohaul (this cost prodigious effort and much balancing), an'—an' you sherv'd that f'ler per-per-flicky ri'. He's dam scoun'rl—gen'lemen—an' ole frien' mine."
For an instant he stood swaying unsteadily, with half-extended hand. For an instant the two young officers gazed at him in contempt, then turned abruptly away.
"Good Lord, Marshall," said Loomis, as they cleared the gate, "if that's the only approbation this day's work will bring us what will the results be? You served him right, no doubt, but—" and an ominous shake of the head wound up the sentence.
"But or no but," said Dean, "it's done now, and I'd do it again."
There was no dinner party at Folsom's that evening. At two a messenger trotted out to the post with a note for Miss Folsom to apprise her of the fact, and without a word or change of color she put it into her pocket. The garrison girls were bent on having them spend the afternoon, but presently Miss Folsom found a moment in which to signal to Jess, and at three they were driving home.