-post at the big magazine.

"No news of poor Sam yet, I suppose?" said Kinsey, sadly, as the two
came strolling in together through the rear gate.

"Nothing whatever," was Ferry's answer. "We cannot even form a
conjecture, unless he, too, has been murdered. Think of there being a
warrant out for his arrest,--for him, Sam Waring!"

"Well," said Kinsey, "no other conclusion could he well arrived at,
unless that poor brute Doyle did it in a drunken row. Pills says he
never saw a man so terror-stricken as he seems to be. He's afraid to
leave him, really, and Doyle's afraid to be alone,--thinks the old woman
may get in."

"She has no excuse for coming, captain," said Ferry. "When she told Cram
she must see her husband to-day, that she was out of money and starving,
the captain surprised her by handing her fifty dollars, which is much
more than she'd have got from Doyle. She took it, of course, but that
isn't what she wanted. She wants to get at him. She has money enough."

"Yes, that woman's a terror, Ferry. Old Mrs. Murtagh, wife of my
quartermaster sergeant, has been in the army twenty years, and says she
knew her well,--knew all her people. She comes from a tough lot, and
they had a bad reputation in Texas in the old days. Doyle's a totally
different man since she turned up, Cram tells me. Hello! here's 'Pills
the Less,'" he suddenly exclaimed, as they came opposite the west gate,
leading to the hospital. "How's your patient, Doc?"

"Well, he's sleeping at last. He seems worn out. It's the first time
I've left him, but I'm used up and want a few hours' sleep. There isn't
anything to drink in the room, even if he should wake, and Jim is
sleeping or lying there by him."

"Oh, he'll do all right now, I reckon," said the officer of the day,
cheerfully. "Go and get your sleep. The old woman can't get at him
unless she bribes my sentries or rides the air on a broomstick, like
some other old witches I've read of. Ferry sleeps in the adjoining room,
anyhow, so he can look out for her. Good-night, Doc." And so, on they
went, glancing upward at the dim light just showing through the
window-blinds in the gable end of Doyle's quarters, and halting at the
foot of the stairs.

"Come over and have a pipe with me, Ferry," said the captain. "It's too
beautiful a night to turn in. I want to talk to you about Waring,
anyhow. This thing weighs on my mind."

"Done with you, for an hour, anyhow!" said Ferry. "Just wait a minute
till