The Captain tapped with his pen and eyed Ellis keenly. “Was it a slander?” he queried quizzically—and then repented, for there was a look on that reckless but gentlemanly face that dispelled all doubt—even before the man’s answer came.
“Ah, well, then,” said the O.C., “that accounts for this letter being anonymous. Now give me all names and particulars of this affair.”
The Sergeant did so and the Captain’s face darkened as he listened. “So that’s who it is, eh?” he muttered thoughtfully. “Thought I knew that writing again.... I remember the man—well—but I don’t think I’ve ever met the lady.” And the fair mustache was twirled gallantly.
The recital finished by the Sergeant remarking: “I couldn’t very well—under the circumstances, sir—lay a charge, or act otherwise than I did—without dragging the lady’s name into this miserable affair.”
“You’ve no business going about assaulting people, anyway,” retorted the old gentleman irascibly, with one of his characteristic changes of front. “And though it is not my intention to take any further notice of this unsigned epistle, as I am fully convinced you have told me the absolute truth—I do not think it would be good policy to send a man with your pugilistic tendencies back to this locality again. Let’s see,” he mused aloud, “you’re a good range man. I think I’ll transfer you to Cherry Creek, where you will be, I hope, beyond all temptation of getting involved again in any more of these—ah—social misunderstandings (Ellis groaned inwardly). Arrange for your kit to be sent in from Elbow Vale and proceed to Cherry Creek. I will give you a written order for Corporal Williamson to hand over the detachment to you and to come in to the Post. He seems to have been getting slack, for there are a lot of stock-rustling complaints coming in from his district lately. See if you cannot effect a change in present conditions there.
“Well!” he grunted impatiently, as the Sergeant halted irresolutely at the door, “what is it?”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Benton, “but can I keep the same horse?”
“Oh, I suppose—I suppose,” said the O.C. testily. “Damme, sir!... You’ve had that cursed horse transferred from every detachment you’ve been stationed at!” He fussed with some papers. “You’d better tell Williamson then, to ride in, and the next man who goes to Elbow Vale can take his horse. That is all, Sergeant.... Report to the Sergeant-Major of your transfer.”
In the passage Ellis encountered the Sergeant-Major and Dudley. “Banishment—physically, socially, and morally—right back to the ‘bald-headed’ again!” he plainted dismally to their inquiring grins. “Father intimating in his own happy fashion that I wasn’t quite civilized enough to hold down a Line detachment.... Cherry Creek!... O Lord!”
Inside the orderly-room the Captain, meanwhile, was slowly pacing backwards and forwards, hands clasped behind back. Through his teeth he softly hissed one of his eternal hymn tunes, which he suddenly broke off short to ejaculate with a low-toned, jerky abruptness to himself—“D—n the man!—d—n the man! Don’t blame him! Couldn’t tell him so, though! Thought I knew that writing! D—d cad, that fellow Cooper!... Knew him years ago! D—d rascal! Glad Benton thrashed him! Done the same myself!—younger days!”