Cutler was now desirous of questioning Blakely at length, and
obtaining his views and theories as to Downs, for Cutler believed that
Blakely had certain well-defined views which he was keeping to
himself. Between these two, however, had grown an unbridgeable gulf.
Dr. Graham had declared at eight o'clock that morning that Mr. Blakely
was still so weak that he ought not to go with the searching parties,
and on receipt of this dictum Captain Cutler had issued his, to wit,
that Blakely should not go either in search of Downs or in pursuit of
Captain Wren. It stung Blakely and angered him even against Graham,
steeling him against the post commander. Each of these gentlemen
begged him to make his temporary home under his roof, and Blakely
would not. "Major Plume's quarters are now vacant, then," said Cutler
to Graham. "If he won't come to you or to me, let him take a room
there." This, too, Blakely refused. He reddened, what is more, at the
suggestion. He sent Nixon down to Mr. Hart's, the trader's, to ask if
he could occupy a spare room there, and when Hart said, yes, most
certainly, Cutler reddened in turn when told of it, and sent
Lieutenant Doty, the adjutant, to say that the post commander could
not "consent to an officer's occupying quarters outside the garrison
when there was abundant room within." Then came Truman and Westervelt
to beg Blakely to come to them. Then came a note from Mrs. Sanders,
reminding him that, as an officer of the cavalry, it would be casting
reflections on his own corps to go and dwell with aliens. "Captain
Sanders would never forgive me," said she, "if you did not take our
spare room. Indeed, I shall feel far safer with a man in the house now
that we are having fires and Indian out-breaks and prisoners escaping
and all that sort of thing. Do come, Mr. Blakely." And in that blue
flannel shirt and the trooper trousers and bandanna neckerchief,
Blakely went and thanked her; sent for Nixon and his saddle-bags, and
with such patience as was possible settled down forthwith. Truth to
tell it was high time he settled somewhere, for excitement, exposure,
physical ill, and mental torment had told upon him severely. At
sunset, as he seemed too miserable to leave his room and come to the
dining table, Mrs. Sanders sent for the doctor, and reluctantly
Blakely let him in.
That evening, just after tattoo had sounded, Kate Sanders and Angela
were having murmured conference on the Wrens' veranda. Aunt Janet had
gone to hospital to carry unimpeachable jelly to the several patients
and dubious words of cheer. Jelly they absorbed with much avidity and
her words with meek resignation. Mullins, she thought, after his
dreadful experience and close touch with death, must be in receptive
mood and repentant of his sins. Of just what sins to repent poor Pat
might still be unsettled in his mind. It was sufficient that he had
them, as all soldiers must have, said Miss Wren, and now that his
brain seemed clearing and the fever gone and he was too weak and
helpless to resist, the time seemed ripe for the sowing of good seed,
and Janet went to sow.