"What do you make of it all?" queried Plume.
"Something's wrang at the reservation," answered Graham. "There mostly
is. Daly thinks there's running to and fro between the Tontos in the
Sierra Ancha country and his wards above here. He thinks there's more
out than there should be--and more a-going. What'd you find, Daly?" he
added, as the agent joined them, mechanically wiping his brow.
Moisture there was none. It evaporated fast as the pores exuded.
"They know well enough, damn them!" said the new official. "But they
think I can be stood off. I'll nail 'em yet--to-morrow," he added.
"But could you send a scout at once to the Tonto basin?" and Daly
turned eagerly to the post commander.
Plume reflected. Whom could he send? Men there were in plenty,
dry-rotting at the post for lack of something to limber their joints;
but officers to lead? There was the rub! Thirty troopers, twenty
Apache Mohave guides, a pack train and one or, at most, two officers
made up the usual complement of such expeditions. Men, mounts, scouts,
mules and packers, all, were there at his behest; but, with Wren in
arrest, Sanders and Lynn back but a week from a long prod through the
Black Mesa country far as Fort Apache, Blakely invalided and Duane a
boy second lieutenant, his choice of cavalry officers was limited. It
never occurred to him to look beyond.
"What's the immediate need of a scout?" said he.
"To break up the traffic that's going on--and the rancherias they must
have somewhere down there. If we don't, I'll not answer for another
month." Daly might be new to the neighborhood, but not to the
business.
"I'll confer with Colonel Byrne," answered Plume guardedly. And Byrne
was waiting for them, a tall, dark shadow in the black depths of the
piazza. Graham would have edged away and gone to his own den, but
Plume held to him. There was something he needed to say, yet could not
until the agent had retired. Daly saw,--perhaps he had already imbibed
something of the situation,--and was not slow to seek his room. Plume
took the little kerosene lamp; hospitably led the way; made the
customary tender of a "night-cap," and polite regrets he had no ice
to offer therewith; left his unwonted guest with courteous good-night
and cast an eye aloft as he came through the hall. All there was dark
and still, though he doubted much that Graham's sedatives had yet
prevailed. He had left the two men opposite the doorway. He found them
at the south end of the piazza, their heads together. They
straightened up to perfunctory talk about the Medical Director, his
drastic methods and inflammable ways; but the mirth was forced, the
humor far too dry. Then silence fell. Then Plume invaded it: "How'd you find Wren--mentally?" he presently asked. He felt that an
opening of some kind was necessary.