An Apache Princess

Well garbed, groomed, and fed was Plume, a handsome, soldierly figure.

Very cool and placid was his look in the spotless white that even then

by local custom had become official dress for Sandy; but beneath the

snowy surface his heart beat with grave disquiet as he studied the

strong, rugged, somber face of the soldier on the floor.

Wren was tall and gaunt and growing gray. His face was deeply lined;

his close-cropped beard was silver-stranded; his arms and legs were

long and sinewy and powerful; his chest and shoulders burly; his

regimental dress had not the cut and finish of the commander's. Too

much of bony wrist and hand was in evidence, too little of grace and

curve. But, though he stood rigidly at attention, with all semblance

of respect and subordination, the gleam in his deep-set eyes, the

twitch of the long fingers, told of keen and pent-up feeling, and he

looked the senior soldier squarely in the face. A sergeant, standing

by the adjutant's desk, tiptoed out into the clerk's room and closed

the door behind him, then set himself to listen. Young Doty, the

adjutant, fiddled nervously with his pen and tried to go on signing

papers, but failed. It was for Plume to break the awkward silence, and

he did not quite know how. Captain Westervelt, quietly entering at the

moment, bowed to the major and took a chair. He had evidently been

sent for.

"Captain Wren," presently said Plume, his fingers trembling a bit as

they played with the paper folder, "I have felt constrained to send

for you to inquire still further into last night's affair--or affairs.

I need not tell you that you may decline to answer if you consider

your interests are--involved. I had hoped this painful matter might be

so explained as to--as to obviate the necessity of extreme measures,

but your second appearance close to Mr. Blakely's quarters, under all

the circumstances, was so--so extraordinary that I am compelled to

call for explanation, if you have one you care to offer."

For a moment Wren stood staring at his commander in amaze. He had

expected to be offered opportunity to state the circumstances leading

to his now deeply deplored attack on Mr. Blakely, and to decline the

offer on the ground that he should have been given that opportunity

before being submitted to the humiliation of arrest. He had intended

to refuse all overtures, to invite trial by court-martial or

investigation by the inspector general, but by no manner of means to

plead for reconsideration now; and here was the post commander, with

whom he had never served until they came to Sandy, a man who hadn't

begun to see the service, the battles, and campaigns that had fallen

to his lot, virtually accusing him of further misdemeanor, when he had

only rushed to save or succor. He forgot all about Sanders or other

witnesses. He burst forth impetuously: "Extraordinary, sir! It would have been most extraordinary if I hadn't

gone with all speed when I heard that cry for help."