An Apache Princess

He was closeted first with Cutler. Then Dr. Graham was sent for, and

the three walked over to the hospital, just as the musicians were

forming for tattoo. They were at Mullins's bedside, with the steward

and attendants outside, when taps went wailing out upon the night.

There were five minutes of talk with that still bewildered patient.

Then Byrne desired to see Mr. Blakely at once and alone. Cutler

surrendered his office to the department inspector, and thither the

lieutenant was summoned. Mrs. Sanders, with Mrs. Truman, was keeping

little Mrs. Bridger company at the moment, and Blakely bowed

courteously to the three in passing by.

"Even in that rough dress," said Mrs. Sanders reflectively, as her

eyes followed the tall, straight figure over the moonlit parade, "he

is a most distinguished looking man."

"Yes," said Mrs. Bridger, still unappeased. "If he were a Sioux, I

suppose they'd call him 'Man-In-Love-With-His-Legs.'" Blakely heard

the bubble of laughter that followed him on his way, and wished that

he, too, felt in mood as merry. The acting sergeant major, a clerk,

and young Cassidy, the soldier telegraph operator, seated at the

westward end of the rough board porch of the adjutant's office, arose

and saluted as he entered. Byrne had sent every possible hearer out of

the building.

Five minutes the conference lasted, no sound coming from within.

Cutler and Graham, with Captain Westervelt, sat waiting on the porch

of the doctor's quarters, Mrs. Graham being busy with her progeny

aloft. Others of the officers and families were also on the piazzas,

or strolling slowly up and down the pathway, but all eyes wandered

from time to time toward the dim light at the office. All was dark at

the barracks. All was hushed and still about the post. The sentry call

for half-past ten was still some minutes' distant, when one of the

three seated figures at the end of the office porch was seen to rise.

Then the other two started to their feet. The first hastened to the

door and began to knock. So breathless was the night that over on the

verandas the imperative thumping could be distinctly heard, and

everyone ceased talk and listened. Then, in answer to some query from

within, the voice of young Cassidy was uplifted.

"I beg pardon, sir, but that's the agency calling me, and it's hurry."

They saw the door open from within; saw the soldier admitted and the

door closed after him; saw the two men waiting standing and expectant,

no longer content to resume their chat. For three minutes of suspense

there came no further sound. Then the door was again thrown open, and

both Byrne and Blakely came hurrying out. In the memory of the

earliest inhabitant never had Sandy seen the colonel walk so fast.

Together they came striding straight toward Cutler's, and the captain

arose and went to meet them, foreboding in his soul. Graham and

Westervelt, restrained by discipline, held back. The women and younger

officers, hushed by anxiety, gazed at the swift-coming pair in dread

and fascination. There was a moment of muttered conference with the

commanding officer, some hurried words, then Blakely was seen to

spring away, to be recalled by Cutler, to start a second time, only to

be again recalled. Then Cutler, shouting, "Mr. Doty, I need you!"

hurried away toward the office, and Blakely, fairly running, sped

straight for the barracks of Wren's troop. Only Byrne was left to

answer the storm of question that burst upon him all at once, women

thronging about him from all along the line.