been there a week. His adjutant
had wired to Foster's address and got no answer. That evening, as it
happened, I met Foster again, and he went out of his way to tell me he
couldn't imagine what had become of his orders. He had left directions
with his home people to open everything that came and wire him here at
once, and nothing had come, at least to him. This was queer. Friday he
repeated it. That afternoon at the telegraph office in town the operator
asked me if a Captain Foster was at the post. Three messages had come
for him, two calling for reply, and he had sent by wire, at least, no
answer. Two, said the operator, were from New York, saying important
orders were there, and what should they do with them? Now, I don't like
double dealing, Dwight. I at once wired Connor that his lost captain was
found--here--claiming to be without orders. Connor probably wired the
War Department, and on Monday noon came this." Saying which, the colonel
took from his desk and held forth a telegram, which Dwight solemnly
received and read, then sat one moment in silence. It was from the War
Department, Washington, and as follows:

COMMANDING OFFICER,

Fort Minneconjou.

If Captain Stanley Foster, --th Cavalry, is still at your post
notify him that his orders were sent June ---- to his address, New
York City. Secwar directs that he proceed at once to Fort Wister
and report to his regimental commander for duty. Acknowledge
receipt and report action.

"Secwar" being the official telegraphic abbreviation for Secretary of
War, that order was beyond appeal. Without a word Dwight carefully
refolded the message, arose, and handed it to the post commander. Then,
after a moment's pause, straightening up, he spoke.

"I have been wrong, sir, and I--beg your pardon. I, too, had been led to
suppose he was awaiting orders. Moreover, he led me to suppose his
virtual expulsion was due to his resenting insulting language from
Lieutenant Ray. I--will you?--have I your permission, sir, to be absent
from parade and the post this evening?"

The surgeon bent quickly forward, his eyes on Stone. The colonel
started, faltered, then, pulling himself together, arose, once more
extended his hand, which Dwight took mechanically, and then, after a
moment's reflection, spoke:

"Major Dwight, I have the highest respect for you as a soldier and as a
man, but I ask you to withdraw that request. Frankly, sir, it is my
desire