Already daylight rested white and solemn over the silent valley, and
only a short distance away lay the spot where the crippled scout had
made his solitary camp. Almost without volition the young officer
turned that way, crossed the stream by means of the log, and clambered
up the bank. But it was clear at a glance that Murphy had deserted the
spot. Convinced of this, Brant retraced his steps toward the camp of
his own troop, now already astir with the duties of early morning.
Just in front of his tent he encountered his first sergeant.
"Watson," he questioned, as the latter saluted and stood at attention,
"do you know a man called Silent Murphy?"
"The scout? Yes, sir; knew him as long ago as when he was corporal in
your father's troop. He was reduced to the ranks for striking an
officer."
Brant wheeled in astonishment. "Was he ever a soldier in the Seventh?"
"He was that, for two enlistments, and a mighty tough one; but he was
always quick enough for a fight in field or garrison."
"Has he shown himself here at the camp?"
"No, sir; didn't know he was anywhere around. He and I were never very
good friends, sir."
The lieutenant remained silent for several moments, endeavoring to
perfect some feasible plan.
"Despatch an orderly to the telegraph-office," he finally commanded,
"to inquire if this man Murphy receives any messages there, and if they
know where he is stopping. Send an intelligent man, and have him
discover all the facts he can. When he returns bring him in to me."
He had enjoyed a bath and a shave, and was yet lingering over his
coffee, when the two soldiers entered with their report. The sergeant
stepped aside, and the orderly, a tall, boyish-looking fellow with a
pugnacious chin, saluted stiffly.
"Well, Bane," and the officer eyed his trim appearance with manifest
approval, "what did you succeed in learning?"
"The operator said this yere Murphy hed never bin thar himself, sir,
but there wus several messages come fer him. One got here this
mornin'."
"What becomes of them?"
"They're called fer by another feller, sir."
"Oh, they are! Who?"
"Red Slavin wus the name he give me of thet other buck."
When the two had disappeared, Brant sat back thinking rapidly. There
was a mystery here, and such actions must have a cause. Something
either in or about Glencaid was compelling Murphy to keep out of
sight--but what? Who? Brant was unable to get it out of his head that
all this secrecy centred around Naida. With those incautiously spoken
words as a clew, he suspected that Murphy knew something about her, and
that knowledge was the cause for his present erratic actions. Perhaps
Hampton knew; at least he might possess some additional scrap of
information which would help to solve the problem. He looked at his
watch, and ordered his horse to be saddled.