there another despatch was handed, this time to
Leonard himself. He tore it open, read it, and then, handing it without
a word to Truman, turned bitterly away.

And Truman, wondering, read, looked dazed an instant, then--understood.

"Gone--with Willett--last night."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

All manner of men were gathered at the station of the Union Pacific in
Omaha that August morning. Some of the members of the court, thus
unexpectedly absolved from a disagreeable duty, had obtained brief leave
of absence and were going to spend a few days in the East before
returning to their commands. They were there to take the train. Others
had come to see them off; others, like Truman and Leonard, to welcome
the coming witnesses. Far up into the fastnesses of the Big Horn had
gone the couriers from the frontier forts, bearing brief orders that had
come by telegraph, and even Winthrop's command, having an almost idyllic
time of it hunting and fishing in the mountains, was required to yield
up some of its officers and men at the beck of the law. A long ride had
these fellows to Fetterman and thence over the Medicine Bow to Rock
Springs. Davies was of this party, but Cranston and Corporal Brannan had
a ride still longer. The bulk of the army of witnesses, oddly enough,
was marshalled by Lieutenant Archer at the field hospital at Pawnee, and
this distinguished young staff officer was coming "with blood in his
eye," as wrathful a man as lived and swore in army blue that long,
eventful summer. To think that he who so prided himself on plainscraft
should have been so utterly hoodwinked by Captain Differs, of all men,
was worse to him than gall and wormwood, but he came now fairly snapping
with righteous indignation, fresh from another study of the famous field
over which he rode with the last man to part with Lieutenant Davies the
night of the tragedy of Antelope Springs,--Devers's long-missing
sergeant, McGrath.

Separated from his young officer in the gathering darkness by the
eagerly searching Indians, detected by them and shot through the leg, he
had taken refuge in a ravine until dawn, and then the cries of the
coyotes had attracted him to the scene of the massacre, and the sight of
his mutilated comrades had unmanned him utterly. Feeling sure the
Indians were still in the neighborhood, he had determined that if seen
he would adopt the plan told him by an old scout long months
before,--that of feigning insanity and bol