"
There was another moment of silence. Ray stepped on tiptoe to the door
as though he wanted not to hear. Blake looked blankly out of the window.
Then the young soldier spoke.
"I--cannot tell you, sir."
For full ten seconds the post commander sat with grave, pallid face,
looking straight into the eyes of his young staff officer. White as his
senior, but with eyes as unflinching, Field returned the gaze. At last
the major's voice was heard again, sad and constrained.
"Field, Captain Ray starts on a forced march at once for Fort Beecher.
I--wish you to go with him."
CHAPTER IV
THE SIGN OF THE BAR SHOE
Many a time has it happened in the old days of the old army that the
post adjutant has begged to be allowed to go with some detachment sent
after Indians. Rarely has it happened, however, that, without any
request from the detachment commander or of his own, has the post
adjutant been ordered to go. No one could say of Beverly Field that he
had not abundantly availed himself of every opportunity for active
service in the past. During his first two years with the regiment he had
spent more than half the time in saddle and afield, scouting the trails
of war parties or marauding bands, or watching over a peaceable tribe
when on the annual hunt.
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