"Traverse is right. They mean to ruin him. I see how it is, exactly. When I saw Traverse on guard, two days ago, he looked like a man exhausted and crazed for want of sleep, and since that time he has been night and day engaged in harassing duty. That demon, Le Noir, with Zuten to help him, has determined to keep Traverse from sleep, until nature is thoroughly exhausted, and then set him upon guard, that he may be found sleeping on his post. That was what the boy meant when he talked of the cloud that was hanging over him, and of being forced into a dishonored grave, and when he hoped, poor fellow, to fall in the approaching assault upon the Molina-del-Rey! I see it all now. They have decided upon the destruction of Traverse. He can do nothing, A soldier's whole duty is comprised in one word—obedience, even if, as in this instance, he is ordered to commit suicide. Let them hatch their diabolical plots. We will see if the Lord does not still reign, and the devil is not a fool. It shall go hard, but that they are 'hoist with their own petard!'" said Herbert, indignantly.
Early the next morning he went to the tent of Captain Zuten and requested to see Private Traverse Rocke, in whom, he said, he felt a warm interest.
The answer of Colonel Le Noir's tool confirmed Herbert's worse suspicions.
Touching his cap with an air of exaggerated deference, he said:
"As you think so much of the young fellow, Major, I am very sorry to inform you, sir, that he is under arrest."
"Upon what charge?" inquired Herbert, calmly, concealing the suspicion and indignation of his bosom.
"Upon a rather bad one, Major—sleeping on his post," replied the officer, masking his exultation with a show of respect.
"Rather bad! The penalty is death," said Herbert, dryly.
"Yes, sir—martial law is rather severe."
"Who charges him?" asked Herbert, curtly.