Lanier of the Cavalry | Page 8

they had in those days, were gathered half the commissioned officers of the post. At Sumter's there kept coming and going by twos and threes, from all along the officers' line, a succession of sympathetic callers, who left even more mystified than when they arrived. Mrs. Sumter was aloft with Kate and their guest, and, as the captain civilly but positively told all visitors, "had to be excused." One of the girls was "somewhat hysterical." Miriam had had a fright in the dark on their return home and screamed. Something foolish, probably, but none the less effective. No! Sumter thought Mrs. Sumter would need no help, yet he was so much obliged to the several who suggested going up just to see if they couldn't "do something." Captain Sumter was a devoted husband and father, a capital officer, and a gentleman to the core, but the captain could be just a trifle distant at times, and this was one of them.
Another house was virtually closed to question. To the disappointment of many and the disapprobation of a few, Bob Lanier had closeted himself with his classmate and most intimate friend "Dad" Ennis; then, after a brief colloquy with Barker, the adjutant, had caused a big card to be tacked on his door whereon was crayoned in bold black letters "BUSY." But at quarter past twelve the assistant surgeon, Doctor Schuchardt, called, as was known, for the second time, and entered without ceremony. When the officer-of-the-day came tramping along the boardwalk at 12.30, and turned in at the gate, he struck the panel with the hilt of his sabre, by way of hint that his call was official and not to be denied. Ennis, therefore, came to the door, but came with gloomy brow.
"I am ordered by Colonel Button to ask certain questions of Lieutenant Lanier," said the official from the depths of his fur cap.
"How's that, Doc?" called Ennis, over his massive shoulder. "Can your patient see the officer-of-the-day?"
"Not yet, with my consent," came the stout answer.
"Shout your questions, captain," sang out the patient, with much too little humility of manner, yet Lanier knew Curbit well and knew his mission to be unwelcome.
Therefore, in Captain Curbit's most official tones, ab imo pectore, came question the first:
"Is Trooper Rawdon in hiding anywhere about your quarters?"
To which, truculently, came response in Lanier's unmistakable voice:
"He is not, if I know it."
"Do you know or suspect where he is?"
"Neither. And there is no reason why I should."
"Have you seen him--to-night?"
An instant's pause; then, "I don't know whether I have or not."
"You don't know?" exclaimed Curbit, puzzled and beginning to bristle.
"I don't know," repeated Lanier, positive and beginning to rejoice.
"Suppose the colonel tells me to explain that," began Curbit, but Doctor Schuchardt set his foot down summarily.
"Here," said he, "this thing's got to stop;" and he came to the door in his shirt sleeves, leaning half way out, with one hand behind him. "Lanier's in a highly nervous and excited state. He has had a fall--and I'm trying to get him to bed and asleep. He doesn't know--whom--he has seen since he got home in arrest, and you can say so for me."
"All right Shoe," was the philosophical answer. "It's none o' my funeral, and personally I don't give a cuss if they never find him, but there are just s-teen reasons why the Old Man wants to see that young man Rawdon forthwith, and as many for believing he's skipped."
"Then skip after him. You can track anything but a ghost in this new-fallen snow."
Curbit lowered his voice. "That's exactly the trouble, doctor. Go to the back of the quarters and see for yourself. His trail starts--and ends--here."
In all its history Fort Cushing had never known such a day of bewilderment as that which followed. Guard mounting was held as usual at eight A.M., and Colonel Button, awaiting in his office the coming of the old and the new officers-of-the-day, directed his adjutant to drop his own work at their entrance and give attention to what took place. Half a dozen other officers, with little or no business to transact at that hour, made it their business to be present, drawn thither from sheer sympathy, as some declared, and downright curiosity, as owned by others. The office building was large and roomy; the colonel's desk was close to the door; beyond it were tables spread with maps, magazines, and papers; a big stove stood in the middle, and a dozen chairs were scattered about, for it was here the officers met one evening each week in the one "book-schooling" to which they were then subjected--a recitation in regulations or "Tactics." Across the hall was a smaller office--the adjutant's--and beyond that the room where sat the sergeant-major and his clerks. The windows, snow-battered and frost-bitten, gave