Her breath came in a little sob, and she sank back on the bench.
"For me? How do you mean?"
"Surely I had every reason to distrust her, to question her character, and I could not believe you realized the sort of woman she is. I felt it my duty to discover her purpose here, and to warn you if possible."
"And you have succeeded? You learned her purpose in your interview?"
"Not exactly," with regret. "My suspicion was merely stimulated. To tell the truth, we rather drifted into a renewal of our old quarrel. However, between what she said, and parts of another conversation overheard, I know there is a blackmailing conspiracy on foot in which you are involved. May I speak very frankly?"
"I certainly desire it," proudly. "I am not aware that I have anything to conceal."
"Apparently the scheme these people have on foot originated about Lieutenant Gaskins. He is wealthy, I understand?"
"I have been told so; yes, I know he is."
"This knowledge, coupled with the fact of your engagement—"
"My what?"
"Your engagement. I had heard it rumored before, and Mrs. Dupont assured me it was true."
"But it is not true, Sergeant Hamlin"—indignantly. "I cannot imagine how such a report ever started. Lieutenant Gaskins has been very friendly; has—" her voice breaking slightly, "even asked me to marry him, but—but I told him that was impossible. He has been just as kind to me since, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing between us. I have never spoken about this before to any one."
If Hamlin's heart leaped wildly at this swift denial, there was no evidence of it in his quiet voice.
"The point is, Miss Molly, that Mrs. Dupont, and those connected with her, think otherwise. They are presuming on Gaskins' being in love with you. Mrs. Dupont can be very seductive. Little by little she has drawn the Lieutenant into her net. Believing him engaged to you, they have him now where he must either pay money for silence or be exposed. Just how it was worked, I do not know. The shooting last night was done to convince him they were serious. The fact that Gaskins later denied knowing who his assailants were—even endeavored to accuse me—is abundant proof of their success." He hesitated, wondering at her silence. "What puzzles me most is why you were present."
"Present? Where?"
"At this quarrel with Gaskins last evening. As I ran by toward the scene of the shooting I passed you hiding at the angle or the barrack wall. Of course, I have mentioned the fact to no one. That was why I made no attempt to defend myself when arrested."
She gasped for breath, scarcely able to articulate.
"You believe that? You think that of me?"
"I may have been deceived; I hope so; there was but little light, and I got merely a glimpse," he explained hastily.
"You were deceived," impetuously. "I was not out of the house that evening. I was in the parlor with my father when those shots were fired. You are sure you saw a woman there—hiding?"
"There is no doubt of that; her foot-prints were plainly to be seen in the morning. This discovery, together with the size of the weapon used, resulted in my immediate release. I saw her, and imagined her to be you. I cannot account for the mistake, unless you were in my mind, and—and possibly what I had heard of your connection with Gaskins. Then it must have been Mrs. Dupont. That looks reasonable. But she stays at your home, does she not?"
"She makes our house her headquarters, but is absent occasionally. Last night she was here at this hotel. Well, we are getting this straightened out a little—that is, if you believe me."
"Of course."
"Then I am going to question you. You spoke of overhearing a conversation?"
"Yes; it was after Mrs. Dupont had left. Captain Barrett came, and took her away. I was sitting here thinking when two men came into the parlor."
"Who were they? Do you know?"
"One was the soldier who drives you about—Connors; the other a black-bearded, burly fellow called 'Reb.'"
"Mr. Dupont."
"What? Is that Dupont? Lord! No wonder she 's gone bad. Why, I thought her husband was a ranchman down South somewhere! This fellow is a tin-horn."
"He did run cattle once, years ago. I think he was quite well off, but drank and gambled it away. Papa told me all about it, but I found out he was the man by accident. He—is the one I am really afraid of."
She stopped, her eyes deserting his face, and stared out into the darkness. He waited, feeling vaguely that he had not heard all she intended to say.
"What more do you know?" he asked. "What was it you expected of me?"
She turned again, aroused by the question.
"Yes, I must tell you as quickly as I can, before I am missed. I did not know about Mrs. Dupont and Lieutenant Gaskins. I realized there was something between them—a—a—slight flirtation, but scarcely gave that a thought. What brought me here was a much more serious matter, yet this new information helps me to comprehend the other—the motives, I mean. Mrs. Dupont's maiden name was Vera Carson?"
"Certainly; I knew her family well."
"She came here, and was received into our family as a daughter of my father's sister. If true, her maiden name would have been Sarah Counts. Papa had no reason to suspect the deceit. He does not now, and I doubt if even your word would convince him, for he seems thoroughly under her influence. There has been such a change in him since she came; not all at once, you know, but gradual, until now he scarcely seems like the same man. I—I do not dislike Lieutenant Gaskins; he has been pleasant and attentive, but I do not care for him in any other way. Yet papa insists that I marry the man. Lately he has been very unkind about it, and—and I am sure she is urging him on. What can I do? It is all so unpleasant."
Hamlin shook his head, but without reply.
"You will not tell me! Then I will tell you I shall say no! no! no! In spite of them; I shall refuse to be sold. But how does that woman control my father?" she leaned closer in her earnestness, lowering her voice. "She has not won him by charms; he is afraid of her."
"Afraid? Are you certain of that?"
"Yes. I cannot tell you how I know; perhaps it is all womanly instinct, but I do know that he is terrorized; that he dare not oppose her wish. I have read the truth in his eyes, and I am sure he is harsh to me only because he is driven by some threat. What can it be?"
"You have never spoken to him of your suspicions? Asked him?"
"Yes and no. I tried once, and shall never forget the expression of his face. Then he turned on me in a perfect paroxysm of anger. I never even dared hint at the matter again."
The Sergeant stared out into the street, not knowing what to say, or how to advise. Almost unconscious of the action his hand stole along the rail until it touched hers.
"If the woman has not ensnared him by her usual methods," he said soberly, "and I think myself you are right about that, for I watched them together in the dance hall—I did not comprehend what it meant then, but it seemed to me he actually disliked being in her company—then she has uncovered something in his past of which he is afraid, something unknown to you, which he does not desire you ever to know."
"Yes," softly, "that must be true."
"No; it may not be true; it may all be a lie, concocted for a purpose. A clever woman might so manipulate circumstances as to convince him she held his fate in her hands. We must find that out in this case."
"But how, Sergeant Hamlin? He will not tell me."
"Perhaps she will tell me if I can reach her alone," he said grimly, "or else that husband of hers—Dupont. He 'll know the whole story. It would give me pleasure to choke it out of him—real pleasure. Then there 's Connors, just the sort of sneaking rat if he can be caught with the goods; only it is not likely he knows much. I shall have to think it all out, Miss Molly," he smiled at her confidently. "You see, I am a bit slow figuring puzzles, but I generally get them in time. You 've told me all you know?"
"Everything. It almost seems silly when I try to explain what I feel to another."
"Not to me. I knew enough before to understand. But, perhaps, you had better go—hush, some one is entering the parlor."
She got to her feet in spite of his restraining hand, startled and unnerved.
"Oh, I must not be seen here. Is there no other way?"
"No; be still for a moment; step back there in the shadow, and let me go in alone."
He stepped forward, his grasp already on the curtain, when a woman's voice spoke within:
"Yes, that was what I meant; he does not know you—yet. But you must keep away."
The speaker was Mrs. Dupont, but Hamlin's one thought was to prevent any discovery of Miss McDonald. Without an instant's hesitation he drew aside the curtain, and stepped into the room.
"Pardon me," he said quietly, as the two started back at his rather abrupt entrance, "but I did not care to overhear your conversation. No doubt it was intended to be private."
The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.[Illustration: The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.]
The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.[Illustration: The two started back at his rather abrupt entrance.]
The woman stepped somewhat in advance of her companion, as though to shield him from observation, instantly mastering her surprise.
"Nothing at all serious, Mr. Sergeant Hamlin," she retorted scornfully. "Don't be melodramatic, please; it gets on the nerves. If you must know, I was merely giving our ranch foreman a few final instructions, as he leaves to-morrow. Have you objections?"
"Assuredly not—your ranch foreman, you say? Met him before, I think. You are the fellow I ordered out of this room, are n't you?"
The man growled something unintelligible, but Mrs. Dupont prevented any direct reply.
"That's all right, John," she broke in impatiently. "You understand what I want now, and need not remain any longer. I have a word to say myself to this man."
She waited an instant while he left the room; then her eyes defiantly met Hamlin's.
"I was told you had driven every one out of here," she said coldly. "What was the game?"
"This room was reserved—"
"Pish! keep that explanation for some one else. You wanted the room for some purpose. Who have you got out there?" she pointed at the window.
"Whether there be any one or not," he answered, leaning against the window frame, and thus barring the passage, "I fail to see wherein you are concerned."
She laughed.
"Which remark is equivalent to a confession. Dave," suddenly changing, "why should we quarrel, and misjudge each other? You cannot suppose I have forgotten the past, or am indifferent. Cannot you forgive the mistake of a thoughtless girl? Is there any reason why we should not be, at least, friendly?"
There was an appeal in her voice, but the man's face did not respond.
"I cannot say that I feel any bitterness over the past," he answered lightly. "I am willing enough to blot that out. What I am interested in is the present. I should like to understand your purpose here at Dodge."
"Surely that is sufficiently clear. I am merely an exile from home, on account of Indian depredations. What more natural than that I should take refuge in my uncle's house."
"You mean Major McDonald?"
"Certainly—he was my mother's only brother."
"I think I have heard somewhere that the Major's only sister married a man named Counts."
She drew in her breath sharply.
"Yes, of course—her first husband."
"You were a daughter then of her first marriage?"
"Of course."
"But assumed the name of Carson when she married again?"
"That was when you met me."
"The change was natural enough," he went on.
"But why did you also become Vera in place of Sarah?"
"Oh, is that it? Well, never attempt to account for the vagaries of a girl," she returned lightly, as though dismissing the subject. "I presume I took a fancy to the prettier name. But how did you know?"
"Garrison rumor picks up nearly everything, and it is not very kind to you, Mrs. Dupont. I hope I am doing you a favor in saying this. Your rather open flirtation with Lieutenant Gaskins is common talk, even among enlisted men, and I have heard that your relations with Major McDonald are peculiar."
"Indeed!" with a rising inflection of the voice. "How kind of you, and so delicately expressed." She laughed. "And poor Major McDonald! Really, that is ridiculous. Could you imagine my flirting with him?"
"I have no recollection of using that term in this connection. But you have strange influence over him. For some reason the man is apparently afraid of you."
"Afraid of me? Oh, no! Some one has been fooling you, Dave. I am merely Major McDonald's guest. I wonder who told you that? Shall I guess?"
Before he could realize her purpose the woman took a hasty step forward, and swept aside the curtain, thrusting her head past to where she could gain a view outside. Hamlin pressed her back with one hand, planting himself squarely before the window. She met his eyes spitefully.
"I was mistaken this time," she acknowledged, drawing away, "but I 'd like to know why you were so anxious to prevent my looking out. Do you know whom I thought you had there?"
"As you please," rejoicing that the girl had escaped notice.
"That little snip of a Molly. You made a hit with her all right, and she certainly don't like me. Well, delightful as it is to meet you again, I must be going." She turned away, and then paused to add over her shoulder. "Don't you think it would be just as safe for you to attend to your own business, Sergeant Hamlin?"
"And let you alone?"
"Exactly; and let me alone. I am hardly the sort of woman it is safe to play with. It will be worth your while to remember that."
He waited, motionless, until assured that she had passed down the hall as far as the door of the dining-room. The sound of shuffling chairs evidenced the breaking up of the party, in preparation to return to the ballroom. If Miss McDonald's absence were to escape observation, she would have to slip out now and rejoin the others as they left the house. He again turned down the light, and held back the curtain.
"The way is clear now, Miss Molly."
There was no response, no movement. He stepped outside, thinking the girl must have failed to hear him. The porch was empty. He stepped from one end to the other, making sure she was not crouching in the darkness, scarcely able to grasp the fact of her actual disappearance. This, then, was why Mrs. Dupont had failed to see any one when she glanced out. But where could the girl have gone? How gotten away? He had heard no sound behind him; not even the rustle of a skirt to betray movement. It was not far to the ground, five or six feet, perhaps; it would be perfectly safe for one to lower the body over the rail and drop. The matted prairie grass under foot would render the act noiseless. No doubt that was exactly the way the escape had been accomplished. Alarmed by the presence of those others, suspecting that the woman within would insist on learning whom Hamlin was attempting to conceal, possibly overhearing enough of their conversation to become frightened at the final outcome, Miss McDonald, in sudden desperation, had surmounted the rail, and dropped to the ground. The rest would be easy—to hasten around the side of the house, and slip in through the front door.
Assured that this must be the full explanation, the Sergeant's cheerfulness returned. The company of officers and guests had already filed out through the hall; he could hear voices laughing and talking in the street, and the band tuning up their instruments across in the dance hall. He would go over and make certain of her presence, then his mind would be at ease. He passed out through the deserted hallway, and glanced in at the dining-room, where a number of men were gathering up the dishes. Beyond this the barroom was crowded, a riffraff lined up before the sloppy bar, among these a number in uniform—unattached officers who had loitered behind to quench their thirst. Hamlin drank little, but lingered a moment just inside the doorway, to observe who was present. Unconsciously he was searching for Dupont, half inclined to pick a quarrel deliberately with the fellow or with Connors, determined if he found the little rat alone to frighten whatever knowledge he possessed out of him. But neither worthy appeared. Having assured himself of their absence, Hamlin turned to depart, but found himself facing a little man with long hair, roughly dressed, who occupied the doorway. The hooked nose, and bright eyes, peering forth from a mass of untrimmed gray whiskers, were familiar.
"You keep the junk shop down by the express office, don't you?"
"Yep," briskly, scenting business in the question. "I 'm Kaplan; vot could I do for you—hey?"
"Answer a question if you will, friend. Do you recall selling a haversack to a traveller on the last stage out for Santa Fé in June?"
"Vel, I do' no; vas he a big fellow? Maybe de von vat vas killed—hey?"
"Yes; his name was Moylan, post-sutler at Fort Marcy."
"Maybe dot vos it. Why you vant to know—hey?"
"No harm to you, Kaplan," the Sergeant explained. "Only I picked it up out there after Moylan was killed, and discovered by some writing on the flap that it originally belonged to a friend of mine. I was curious to learn how it got into your hands."
The trader shrugged his shoulders.
"Vud it be worth a drink?" he asked cannily.
"Of course. Frank, give Kaplan whatever he wants. Now, fire away."
"Vel," and the fellow filled his glass deliberately, "It vas sold me six months before by a fellow vat had a black beard—"
"Dupont?"
"Dat vos de name ov de fellar, yes. Now I know it. I saw him here again soon. You know him?"
"By sight only; he is not the original owner, nor the man I am trying to trace. You know nothing of where he got the bag, I presume?"
"I know notting more as I tell you alreatty," rather disconsolately, as he realized that one drink was all he was going to receive.
Hamlin elbowed his way out to the street. He had learned something, but not much that was of any value. Undoubtedly the haversack had come into Dupont's possession through his wife, but this knowledge yielded no information as to the present whereabouts of Le Fevre. When the latter had separated from the woman, this old army bag was left behind, and, needing money, Dupont had disposed of it, along with other truck, seemingly of little value.
The Sergeant reached this conclusion quickly, and, satisfied that any further investigation along this line would be worthless, reverted to his earlier quest—the safety of Miss McDonald. Merely to satisfy himself of her presence, he crossed the street and glanced in at the whirling dancers. There were few loiterers at the doorway and he stood for a moment beside the guard, where he was able to survey the entire room. Mrs. Dupont was upon the floor, and swept past twice, without lifting her eyes in recognition, but neither among the dancers, nor seated, could he discover Miss Molly.
Startled at not finding her present, Hamlin searched anxiously for the Major, only to assure himself of his absence also. Could they have returned to the fort as early as this? If so, how did it happen their guest was still present, happily enjoying herself? Of course she might be there under escort of some one else—Captain Barrett, possibly. He would ask the infantryman.
"Have you seen Miss McDonald since supper?"
The soldier hesitated an instant, as though endeavoring to remember.
"No, I ain't, now you speak of it. She went out with that kid over there, and he came back alone. Don't believe he 's danced any since. The Major was here, though; Connors brought him a note a few minutes ago, and he got his hat and went out."
Hamlin drew a breath of relief. "Girl must have sent for him to take her home," he said. "Well, it 's time for me to turn in—good-night, old man."
He tramped along the brightly illumined street, and out upon the dark road leading up the bluff to the fort, his mind occupied with the events of the evening, and those other incidents leading up to them. There was no doubt that Miss McDonald and her father had returned to their home. But what could he do to assist her? The very knowledge that she had voluntarily appealed to him, that she had come to him secretly with her trouble, brought strange happiness. Moreover his former acquaintance with Mrs. Dupont gave him a clue to the mystery. Yet how was he going to unravel the threads, discover the motive, find out the various conspirators? What were they really after? Money probably, but possibly revenge. What did the woman know which enabled her to wield such influence over McDonald? What was the trap they proposed springing? The Sergeant felt that he could solve these problems if given an opportunity, but he was handicapped by his position; he could not leave his troop, could not meet or mingle with the suspected parties; was tied, hand and foot, by army discipline. He could not even absent himself from the post without gaining special permission. He swore to himself over the hopelessness of the situation, as he tramped through the blackness toward the guard-house. The sentinel glanced at his pass, scrutinizing it by the light of a fire, and thrust the paper into his pocket. Hamlin advanced, and at the corner saluted the officer of the day, who had just stepped out of the guard-house door.
"Good evening, Sergeant," the latter said genially. "Just in from town? I expect they are having some dance down there to-night."
"Yes, sir," hesitatingly, and then venturing the inquiry. "May I ask if Major McDonald has returned to the post?"
"McDonald? No," he glanced at his watch. "He had orders to go east to Ripley on the stage. That was due out about an hour ago."
"To Ripley? By stage?" the Sergeant repeated the words, dazed. "Why—why, what has become of Miss McDonald?"
The officer smiled, shaking his head.
"I 'm sure I don't know, my man," he returned carelessly. "Come back with Barrett and his lady-love, likely. Why?" suddenly interested by the expression on the other's face. "What's happened? Is there anything wrong?"
Startled and bewildered as Hamlin was by this sudden revealment, he at once comprehended the embarrassment of his own position. He could not confess all he knew, certainly not the fact that the girl had met him secretly and had vanished while he was endeavoring to turn aside Mrs. Dupont. He must protect her at all hazards. To gain time, and self-control, he replied with a question:
"Did not Connors drive them down, sir?"
"Yes, the four of them."
"And Major McDonald knew then that he was ordered East?"
"No, the order came by telegram later. An orderly was sent down about ten o'clock. But, see here, Sergeant, I am no Bureau of Information. If you have anything to report, make it brief."
Hamlin glanced at the face of the other. He knew little about him, except that he had the reputation of being a capable officer.
"I will, sir," he responded quickly; "you may never have heard of the affair, but I was with Miss McDonald during a little Indian trouble out on the trail a few months ago."
The officer nodded.
"I heard about that; Gaskins brought her in."
"Well, ever since she has seemed grateful and friendly. You know how some women are; well, she is that kind. To-night she came to me, because she did n't seem to know whom else to go to, and told me of some trouble she was having. I realize, Captain Kane, that it may seem a bit strange to you that a young lady like Miss McDonald, an officer's daughter, would turn for help to an enlisted man, but I am telling you only the truth, sir. You see, she got it into her head somehow that I was square, and—and, well, that I cared enough to help her."
"Wait a minute, Sergeant," broke in Kane, kindly, realizing the other's embarrassment, and resting one hand on his sleeve. "You do not need to apologize for Miss McDonald. I know something of what is going on at this post, although, damn me if I 've ever got on to the straight facts. You mean that Dupont woman?"
"Yes, she 's concerned in the matter, but there are others also."
"Why could n't the girl tell her father?"
"That is where the main trouble lies, Captain. Major McDonald seems to be completely under the control of Mrs. Dupont. He is apparently afraid of her for some reason. That is what Miss Molly spoke to me about. We were on the side porch at the hotel talking while the dancers were at supper—it was the only opportunity the girl had to get away—and Mrs. Dupont and her husband came into the parlor—"
"Her husband? Good Lord, I thought her husband was dead."
"He is n't. He 's a tin-horn gambler, known in the saloons as 'Reb,' a big duffer, wearing a black beard."
"All right, go on; I don't know him."
"Well, I stepped into the room to keep the two apart, leaving the girl alone outside. We had a bit of talk before I got the room cleared, and when I went back to the porch, Miss Molly had gone."
"Dropped over the railing to the ground."
"That's what I thought at the time, sir, but what happened to her after that? She did n't return to the hotel; she was not at the dance hall, and has n't come back to the post."
"The hell you say! Are you sure?"
"I am; I searched for her high and low before I left, and she could not get in here without passing the guard-house."
Kane stared into the Sergeant's race a moment, and then out across the parade ground. A yellow light winked in the Colonel's office, occasionally blotted out by the passing figure of a sentry. The officer came to a prompt decision.
"The 'old man' is over there yet, grubbing at some papers. Come on over, and tell him what you have told me. I believe the lass will turn up all right, but it does look rather queer."
The Colonel and the Post Adjutant were in the little office, busy over a pile of papers. Both officers glanced up, resenting the interruption, as Kane entered, Hamlin following. The former explained the situation briefly, while the commandant leaned back in his chair, his keen eyes studying the younger man.
"Very well, Captain Kane," he said shortly, as the officer's story ended. "We shall have to examine into this, of course, but will probably discover the whole affair a false alarm. There is, at present, no necessity for alarming any others. Sergeant, kindly explain to me why Miss McDonald should have come to you in her distress?"
Hamlin stepped forward, and told the story again in detail, answering the Colonel's questions frankly.
"This, then, was the only time you have met since your arrival?"
"Yes, sir."
"And this Mrs. Dupont? You have had a previous acquaintance with her?"
"Some years ago."
"You consider her a dangerous woman?"
"I know her to be utterly unscrupulous, sir. I am prepared to state that she is here under false pretences, claiming to be a niece of Major McDonald's. I do not know her real purpose, but am convinced it is an evil one."
The Colonel shook his head doubtfully, glancing at the silent adjutant.
"That remains to be proven, Sergeant. I have, of course, met the lady, and found her pleasant and agreeable as a companion. Deuced pretty too; hey, Benson? Why do you say she masquerades as McDonald's niece?"
"Because her maiden name was Carson and the Major's sister married a man named Counts."
"There might have been another marriage. Surely McDonald must know."
"Miss Molly says not, Colonel. He has known nothing of his sister for over twenty years, and accepted this woman on her word."
"Well, well! Interesting situation; hey, Benson? Like to get to the bottom myself. Damme if it don't sound like a novel. However, the thing before us right now is to discover what has become of Miss McDonald." He straightened up in his chair, then leaned across the table. "Captain Kane, make a thorough examination of McDonald's quarters first. If the girl is not found there, detail two men to accompany Sergeant Hamlin on a search of the town."
"Very well, sir; come on, Sergeant."
"Just a moment—if we find the trail leads beyond the town are we authorized to continue?"
"Certainly, yes. Adjutant, write out the order. Anything more?"
"I should prefer two men of my own troop, sir, mounted."
"Very well; see to it, Captain."
The two men walked down past the dark row of officers' houses, the Sergeant a step to the rear on the narrow cinder path. McDonald's quarters were as black as the others, and there was no response from within when Kane rapped at the door. They tried the rear entrance with the same result—the place was plainly unoccupied.
"Pick out your men, Hamlin," the Captain said sternly, "and I 'll call the stable guard."
Ten minutes later, fully equipped for field service, the three troopers circled the guard-house and rode rapidly down the dark road toward the yellow lights of the town. The Sergeant explained briefly the cause of the expedition, and the two troopers, experienced soldiers, asked no unnecessary questions. Side by side the three men rode silently into the town, and Hamlin swung down from his saddle at the door of the dance hall. With a word to the guard he crossed the floor to intercept Mrs. Dupont. The latter regarded his approach with astonishment, her hand on Captain Barrett's blue sleeve.
"Certainly not," she replied rather sharply to his first question. "I am not in charge of Miss McDonald. She is no doubt amusing herself somewhere; possibly lying down over at the hotel; she complained of a headache earlier in the evening. Why do you come to me?"
"Yes," broke in the Captain, "that is what I wish to know, Hamlin. By what authority are you here?"
"The orders of the Colonel commanding, sir," respectfully, yet not permitting his glance to leave the woman's face. "You insist then, madam, that you know nothing of the girl's disappearance?"
"No!" defiantly, her cheeks red.
"Nor of what has become of Connors, or your ranch manager?"
She shrugged her shoulders, endeavoring to smile.
"The parties mentioned are of very small interest to me."
"And Major McDonald," he insisted, utterly ignoring the increasing anger of the officer beside her. "Possibly you were aware of his departure?"
"Yes," more deliberately; "he told me of his orders, and bade me good-bye later. So far as Connors is concerned, he was to have the carriage here for us at two o'clock. Is that all, Mr. Sergeant Hamlin?"'
"You better make it all," threatened the Captain belligerently, "before I lose my temper at this infernal impertinence."
Hamlin surveyed the two calmly, confident that the woman knew more than she would tell, and utterly indifferent as to the other.
"Very well," he said quietly, "I will learn what I desire elsewhere. I shall find Miss McDonald, and discover what has actually occurred."
"My best wishes, I am sure," and the lady patted the Captain's arm gently. "We are losing this waltz."
There was but one course for Hamlin to pursue. He had no trail to follow, only a vague suspicion that these plotters were in some way concerned in the mysterious disappearance. Thus far, however, they had left behind no clue to their participation. Moreover he was seriously handicapped by ignorance of any motive. Why should they desire to gain possession of the girl? It could not be money, or the hope of ransom. What then? Was it some accident which had involved her in the toils prepared for another? If so, were those unexpected orders for Major McDonald a part of the conspiracy, or had their receipt complicated the affair? The Sergeant was a soldier, not a detective, and could only follow a straight road in his investigation. He must circle widely until he found some trail to follow as patiently as an Indian. There would be tracks left somewhere, if he could only discover them. If this was a hasty occurrence, in any way an accident, something was sure to be left uncovered, some slip reveal the method. He would trace the movements of the father first, and then search the saloons and gambling dens for the two men. Though unsuccessful with Mrs. Dupont, he knew how to deal with such as they.
The stage agent was routed out of bed and came to the door, revolver in hand, startled and angry.
"Who?" he repeated. "Major McDonald? How the hell should I know? Some officer went out—yes; heavy set man with a mustache. I did n't pay any attention to him; had government transportation. There were two other passengers, both men, ranchers, I reckon; none in the station at all. What's that, Jane?"
A woman's voice spoke from out the darkness behind.
"Was the soldier asking if Major McDonald went East on the coach, Sam?"
"Sure; what do you know about it?"
"Why, I was outside when they started," she explained, "and the man in uniform was n't the Major. I know him by sight, for he 's been down here a dozen times when I was at the desk. This fellow was about his size, but dark and stoop-shouldered."
"And the others?" asked Hamlin eagerly.
"I did n't know either of them, only I noticed one had a black beard."
"A very large, burly fellow?"
"No, I don't think so. I did n't pay special attention to any of them, only to wonder who the officer was, 'cause I never remembered seein' him here before at Dodge, but, as I recollect, the fellow with a beard was rather undersized; had a shaggy buffalo-skin cap on."
Plainly enough the man was not Dupont, and McDonald had not departed on the stage, while some other, pretending to be he, possibly wearing his clothes to further the deceit, had taken the seat reserved in the coach. Baffled, bewildered by this unexpected discovery, the Sergeant swung back into his saddle, not knowing which way to turn.
That both McDonald and his daughter were involved in this strange puzzle was already clear. The disappearance of the one was as mysterious as that of the other. Whether the original conspiracy had centred about the Major, and Miss Molly had merely been drawn into the net through accident, or whether both were destined as victims from the first, could not be determined by theory. Indeed the Sergeant could evolve no theory, could discover no purpose in the outrage. Convinced that Dupont and his wife were the moving spirits, he yet possessed no satisfactory reason for charging them with the crime, for which there was no apparent object.
Nothing remained to be done but search the town, a blind search in the hope of uncovering some trail. That crime had been committed—either murder or abduction—was evident; the two had not dropped thus suddenly out of sight without cause. Nor did it seem possible they could have been whisked away without leaving some trace behind. The town was accustomed to murder and sudden death; the echo of a revolver shot would create no panic, awaken no alarm, and yet the place was small, and there was little likelihood that any deed of violence would pass long unnoticed. With a few words of instruction, and hasty descriptions of both Dupont and Connors, Hamlin sent his men down the straggling street to drag out the occupants of shack and tent, riding himself to the blazing front of the "Poodle Dog."
Late as the hour was, the saloon and the gambling rooms above were all crowded. Hamlin plunged into the mass of men, pressing passage back and forth, his eyes searching the faces, while he eagerly questioned those with whom he had any acquaintance. Few among these could recall to mind either "Reb" or his boon companion, and even those who did retained no recollection of having seen the two lately. The bartenders asserted that neither man had been there that night, and the dealers above were equally positive. The city marshal, encountered outside, remembered Dupont, and had seen him at the hotel three hours before, but was positive the fellow had not been on the streets since. Connors he did not know, but if the man was Major McDonald's driver, then he was missing all right, for Captain Barrett had had to employ a livery-man to drive Mrs. Dupont back to the fort. No, there was no other lady with her; he was sure, for he had watched them get into the carriage.
The two troopers were no more fortunate in their results, but had succeeded in stirring up greater excitement during their exploration, several irate individuals, roughly aroused from sleep, exhibiting fighting propensities, which had cost one a blackened eye, and the other the loss of a tooth. Both, however, had enjoyed the occasion, and appeared anxious for more. Having exhausted the possibilities of the town, the soldiers procured lanterns, and, leaving the horses behind, began exploring the prairie. In this labor they were assisted by the marshal, and a few aroused citizens hastily impressed into a posse. The search was a thorough one, but the ground nearby was so cut up by hoofs and wheels as to yield no definite results. Hamlin, obsessed with the belief that whatever had occurred had been engineered by Dupont, and recalling the fact that the man was once a ranchman somewhere to the southward, jumped to the conclusion that the fellow would naturally head in that direction, seeking familiar country in which to hide. With the two troopers he pushed on toward the river, choosing the upper ford as being the most likely choice of the fugitives. The trampled mud of the north bank exhibited fresh tracks, but none he could positively identify. However, a party on horseback had crossed within a few hours, and, without hesitation, he waded out into the stream.
The gray of dawn was in the sky as the three troopers, soaked to the waist, crept up the south bank and studied the trail. Behind them the yellow lanterns still bobbed about between the river and town, but there was already sufficient light to make visible the signs underfoot. Horsemen had climbed the bank, the hoof marks yet damp where water had drained from dripping fetlocks, and had instantly broken into a lope. A moment's glance proved this to Hamlin as he crept back and forth, scrutinizing each hoof mark intently.
"Five in the party," he said soberly. "Three mustangs and two American horses, cavalry shod. About three hours ahead of us." He straightened up, his glance peering into the gray mists. "I reckon it's likely our outfit, but we 'll never catch them on foot. They 'll be behind the sand-dunes before this. Before we go back, boys, we 'll see if they left the trail where it turns west."
The three ran forward, paying little heed until they reached the edge of the ravine. Here the beaten trail swerved sharply to the right. Fifty feet beyond, the marks of horses' hoofs appeared on the sloping bank, and Hamlin sprang down to where the marks disappeared around the edge of a large bowlder. His hand on the stone, he stopped suddenly with quick indrawing of breath, staring down at a motionless figure lying almost at his feet. The man, roughly dressed, lay on his face, a bullet wound showing above one ear, the back of his neck caked with blood. The Sergeant, mastering his first sense of horror, turned him over and gazed upon the ghastly face of Major McDonald.
"My God, they've murdered him here!" he exclaimed. "Shot him down from behind. Look, men. No; stand back, and don't muss up the tracks. There are foot-prints here—Indians, by heaven! Three of them Indians!"
"Some plainsmen wear moccasins."
"They don't walk that way—toes in; and see this hair in McDonald's fingers—that's Indian, sure. Here is where a horse fell, and slid down the bank. Is n't that a bit of broken feather caught in the bush, Carroll? Bring it over here."
The three bent over the object.
"Well, what do you say? You men are both plainsmen."
"Cheyenne," returned Carroll promptly. "But what the hell are they doing here?"
Hamlin shook his head.
"It will require more than guessing to determine that," he said sternly. "And there is only one way to find out. That fellow was a Cheyenne all right, and there were three of them and two whites in the party—see here; the prints of five horses ridden, and one animal led. That will be the one McDonald had. They went straight up the opposite bank of the ravine. If they leave a trail like that we can ride after them full speed."
Carroll had been bending over the dead officer and now glanced up.
"There's sand just below, Sergeant," he said. "That's why they are so darn reckless here."
"Of course; they'll hide in the dunes, and the sooner we 're after them the better. Wade, you remain with the body; Carroll and I will return to the fort and report. We 'll have to have more men—Wasson if I can get him—and equipment for a hard ride. Come on, Jack."
They waded the river, and ran through the town, shouting their discovery to the marshal and his posse as they passed. Twenty minutes later Hamlin stood before the Colonel, hastily telling the story. The latter listened intently, gripping the arms of his chair.
"Shot from behind, hey?" he ejaculated, "and his clothing stolen. Looks like a carefully planned affair, Sergeant; sending that fellow through to Ripley was expected to throw us off the track. That 's why they were so careless covering their trail; expected to have several days' start. It is my notion they never intended to kill him; had a row of some kind, or else Mac tried to get away. Any trace of the girl?"
"No; but she must have been there."
"So I think; got mixed up in the affair some way, and they have been compelled to carry her off to save themselves. Do you know why they were after Mac?"
"No, sir."
"Well, I do; he carried thirty thousand dollars."
"What?"
"He was acting paymaster. The money came in from Wallace last evening, and he was ordered to take it to Ripley at once."
Hamlin drew in his breath quickly in surprise.
"Who knew about that, sir?"
"No one but the Adjutant, and Major McDonald—not even the orderly."
The eyes of officer and soldier met.
"Do you suppose he could have toldher?" the former asked in sudden suspicion.
"That would be my theory, sir. But it is useless to speculate. We have no proof, no means of forcing her to confess. The only thing for us to do is to trail those fugitives. I need another man—a scout—Wasson, if he can be spared—and rations for three days."
The Colonel hesitated an instant, and then rose, placing a hand on Hamlin's arm.
"I 'll do it for Miss McDonald, but not for the money," he said slowly. "I expect orders every hour for your troop, and Wasson is detailed for special service. But damn it, I 'll take the responsibility—go on, and run those devils down."
Hamlin turned to the door; then wheeled about.
"You know this man Dupont, Colonel?"
"Only by sight."
"Any idea where he used to run cattle?"
"Wait a minute until I think. I heard McDonald telling about him one night at the club, something Mrs. Dupont had let slip, but I did n't pay much attention at the time. Seems to me, though, it was down on the Canadian. No, I have it now—Buffalo Creek; runs into the Canadian. Know such a stream?"
"I 've heard of it; in west of the North Fork somewhere."
"You think it was Dupont, then?"
"I have n't a doubt that he is in the affair, and that the outfit is headed for that section. I don't know, sir, where those Indians came from, or how they happened to be up here, but I believe they belong to Black Kettle's band of Cheyennes. His bunch is down below the Canadian, is it not, sir?"
"Yes."
"Dupont must be friendly with them, and this coup has been planned for some time. Last night was the chance they have been waiting for. The only mistake in their plans has been the early discovery because of Miss Molly's disappearance. They have gone away careless, expecting two or three days' start, and they will only have a few hours. We 'll run them down, with good luck, before they cross the Cimarron. You have no further instructions, sir?"
"No, nothing, Sergeant. You 're an old hand, and know your business, and there is no better scout on the plains than Sam Wasson. Good-bye, and good luck."