More morning suns than could be counted in the field of the flag had
come, and gone, but not a sign of Natzie. Wren's own troopers, hot on
Punch's flashing heels, were cooling their own as best they could
through the arid days that followed. Wren himself was now recovered
sufficiently to be told of much that had been going on,--not all,--and
it was Angela who constantly hovered about him, for Janet was taking a
needed rest. Blakely, too, was on the mend, sitting up hours of every
day and "being very lovely" in manner to all the Sanders household,
for thither had he demanded to be moved even sooner than it was
prudent to move him at all. Go he would, and Graham had to order it.
Pat Mullins was once again "for duty." Even Todd, the bewildered
victim of Natzie's knife, was stretching his legs on the hospital
porch.
There had come a lull in all martial proceedings at the post,
and only two sensations. One of these latter was the formal
investigation by the inspector general of the conditions surrounding
the stabbing at Camp Sandy of Privates Mullins and Todd of the ----th
U. S. Cavalry. The other was the discovery, one bright, brilliant,
winter morning that Natzie's friend and savior, Angela's Punch, was
back in his stall, looking every bit as saucy and "fit" as ever he did
in his life. What surprised many folk in the garrison was that it
surprised Angela not at all. "I thought Punch would come back," said
she, in demure unconcern, and the girls at least, began to understand,
and were wild to question. Only Kate Sanders, however, knew how
welcome was the pet pony's coming. But what had come that was far from
welcome was a coldness between Angela and Kate Sanders.
Byrne himself had arrived, and the "inquisition" had begun. No
examinations under oath, no laborious recordings of question and
answer, no crowd of curious listeners. The veteran inspector took each
man in turn and heard his tale and jotted down his notes, and, where
he thought it wise, cross-questioned over and again. One after
another, Truman and Todd, Wren and Mullins, told their stories,
bringing forth little that was new beyond the fact that Todd was sure
it was Elise he heard that night "jabbering with Downs" on Blakely's
porch. Todd felt sure that it was she who brought him whisky, and
Byrne let him prattle on. It was not evidence, yet it might lead the
way to light. In like manner was Mullins sure now "'Twas two ladies"
stabbed him when he would have striven to stop the foremost. Byrne
asked did he think they were ladies when first he set eyes on them,
and Pat owned up that he thought it was some of the girls from
Sudsville; it might even be Norah as one of them, coming home late
from the laundresses' quarters, and trying to play him a trick. He
owned to it that he grabbed the foremost, seeing at that moment no
other, and thinking to win the forfeit of a kiss, and Byrne gravely
assured him 'twas no shame in it, so long as Norah never found it out.