"We have news from the agency," said he. "It is from Indian runners,
and may not be reliable--some rumor of a sharp fight near Sunset
Pass."
"Are there particulars, colonel--anybody killed or wounded?" It was
Mrs. Sanders who spoke, her face very pale.
"We cannot know--as yet. It is all an Indian story. Mr. Blakely is
going at once to investigate," was the guarded answer. But Mrs.
Sanders knew, as well as a dozen others, that there were
particulars--that somebody had been killed or wounded, for Indian
stories to that effect had been found singularly reliable. It was
Wren's troop that had gone to Sunset Pass, and here was Wren's sister
with question in her eye, and at sight of her the colonel turned and
hurried back to headquarters, following the post commander.
Another moment and Blakely, in the broad light streaming suddenly from
the office room of Wren's troop, came speeding straight across the
parade again in the direction of Sanders's quarters, next to the last
at the southward end of the row. They sought, of course, to intercept
him, and saw that his face was pale, though his manner was as composed
as ever. To every question he had but one thing to say: "Colonel Byrne
and the captain know all that I do--and more. Ask them." But this he
said with obvious wish to be questioned no further,--said it gently,
but most firmly,--and then, with scant apology, passed on. Five
minutes more and Nixon was lugging out the lieutenant's field kit on
the Sanders's porch, and Blakely, reappearing, went straight up the
row to Wren's. It was now after 10.30, but he never hesitated. Miss
Janet, watching him from the midst of her friends, saw him stride,
unhesitatingly, straight to the door and knock. She followed
instantly, but, before she could reach the steps, Kate Sanders, with
wonder in her eyes, stood faltering before him.
"Will you say to Miss Angela that I have come as I promised? I am
going at once to--join the troop. Can I see her?" he asked.
"She isn't well, Mr. Blakely. She hasn't left her room to-day." And
Miss Sanders began herself to tremble, for up the steps came the
resolute lady of the house, whom seeing, Mr. Blakely honored with a
civil bow, but with not a word.
"I will hear your message, Mr. Blakely," said Miss Wren, pallid, too,
and filled with wordless anxiety, but determined none the less.
"Miss Sanders has heard it, madam," was the uncompromising answer.
"Will you see Miss Angela, please?" This again to Kate--and, without
another word, she went.