icers at Reynolds, her husband and McCrea among them, had
invested their scant savings in that most promising venture. She knew
that McCrea had vowed it would make them all rich if not famous one of
these days, and that her methodical, cautious "canny Scot" of a husband
had figured, pondered, and consulted long before he, too, had become
convinced. She knew their holdings had been quoted far above what was
paid for them, but what of all that? She had her boys, her husband, her
army home, her health, and high content. What was wealth to her?
"I own I was thinking more of the hunting and fishing, the scenery, and
the splendid range," said Geordie, "but no matter where 'E' Troop goes,
I want to be with it."
"If the Shield pans out according to promise," said McCrea, with a
laugh, "the regiment won't see me for many a day after I realize. I'm
going in for a year's leave--and Europe."
They had reached the front of Grant Hall by this time and were
strolling slowly along, their voices hushed for the moment by the
cheery hum of boyish talk and the clatter of mess furniture, as the
Corps sat at their late supper. Then several officers, gathered about
the steps of the club rooms in the south end, lifted their caps to Mrs.
Graham and smiled greeting to the party.
"Come back, Geordie!" was the cheery hail. "We want to wet that
assignment in cavalry fashion." But Graham laughed and shook his head.
"Can't break away just now," said he. "I'll look in later."
"What I can't understand," said McCrea, "is that we got no word. With
Freeman and Blake both on duty in Washington, one would think they'd
have wired if they knew."
"It's coming now," said the doctor, pointing to the telegraph orderly
turning away from the steps of his quarters and coming swiftly toward
them, brown envelope in hand. Just in front of the hospital gateway he
met the party, saluted, and tendered the uppermost of two or three
despatches to the doctor.
"Freeman, I'm betting," said McCrea, as the doctor tore it open and
read. They walked on slowly, expectant, but he did not speak. Then Mrs.
Graham turned, gave one look, dropped Geordie's arm and clasped that of
her husband. The rugged, weather-beaten face had grown suddenly gray.
"George! husband!" she cried. "What's gone wrong?"
For answer he simply handed her the paper.
"Designate proxy; meeting Monday. Fear everything lost. Come if
possible."
"Mac," said the old doctor, solemnly, "
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