Molly McDonald - Page 177/178

Erect, the very impersonation of military discipline, the soldier crossed the room, and stared into the unshaven face of the Sergeant. Suddenly his eyes brightened, and he wheeled about as if on a pivot, again bringing his gloved hand up in salute.

"Eet vas Colonel Hamlin, I tink ya," he said in strong German accent. "I know heem."

The Sergeant gripped his arm, bringing his face about once more.

"You are Shultz--Sergeant-Major Shultz!" he cried. "What ever became of you? What is it you know?"

"Wait a minute, Hamlin," said Sheridan quickly, rising to his feet. "I can explain this much better than that Dutchman. He means well enough, but his tongue twists. It seems Custer met you once in the Shenandoah, and later heard of your dismissal from the service. One night he spoke about the affair in my quarters. Shultz was present on duty and overheard. He spoke up like a little man; said he was there when you got your orders, that they were delivered verbally by the staff officer, and he repeated them for us word for word. He was taken prisoner an hour later, and never heard of your court-martial. Is that it, Shultz?"

"Mine Gott, ya; I sa dot alreatty," fervently. "He tell you not reconnoisance--charge! I heard eet twice. Gott in Himmel, vat a hell in der pines!"

"Hamlin," continued Sheridan quietly, "there is little enough we can do to right this wrong. There is no way in which that Confederate court-martial can be reconvened. But I shall have Shultz's deposition taken and scattered broadcast. We will clear your name of stain. What became of that cowardly cur who lied?"

Hamlin pressed one hand against his throbbing temples, struggling against the faintness which threatened mastery.

"He--he paid for it, sir," he managed to say. "He--he died three days ago in Black Kettle's camp."

"You got him!"

"Yes--I--I got him."

"I have forgotten--what was the coward's name?"

"Eugene Le Fevre, but in Kansas they called him Dupont."

"Dupont! Dupont!" Sheridan struck the table with his closed fist. "Good Lord, man! Not the husband of that woman who ran off with Lieutenant Gaskins, from Dodge?"

"I--I never heard--"

The room whirled before him in mist, the faces vanished; he heard an exclamation from Shultz, a sharp command from Sheridan, and then seemed to crumble up on the floor. There was the sharp rustle of a woman's skirt, a quick, light step, the pressure of an arm beneath his head.

"Quick, orderly, he 's fainted," it was the General's voice, sounding afar off. "Get some brandy, Shultz. Here, Miss McDonald, let me hold the man's head."