was for a moment a murmur of voices, then silence
fell again, except for distant sounds at the ford--sounds to which they
were becoming accustomed, though still unreconciled.

For a while she waited irresolute, vaguely distressed, then, finally,
returned to the upper floor and once again entered Sandy's room and
gazed wistfully about her. All was darkness, but the faint flutter at
the west window told her the light curtain was blowing outward, so she
went thither, drew it in and fastened it, then stepped to the other
opening to the south and looked out over the dark valley of the
Minneconjou, the sharp ridge that spanned the far horizon, and the
brilliant, spangled sky above. And while she gazed, she listened, hoping
every minute to hear the sound of his coming, even though it was no
longer the light, quick, springy step that before his wound was so like
the step she so well remembered--his father's, in the old days of the
--th. She was just turning away disappointed when far up at the west she
heard the shrill cry, "Corporal of the guard, No. 4!" heard the prompt
echo of No. 3, the more distant calls of 2 and 1, and, even before these
last, had heard the swift footfalls of the summoned guardian taking the
short cut across the parade. Two--three minutes she waited, listening
for the explanation. Vaguely, dimly, she could make out the form of No.
3 standing at the edge of the sloping bluff, listening, apparently, like
herself, for explanation of the call. None came. Then the sentry stepped
swiftly along his post in the direction of the sound, as though
something further had caught his eye or ear. Then he was lost to view,
and still she waited. Then she heard a voice that was probably the
sentry's, low and indistinct, yet like the challenge and the "Advance
for recognition". Then, a moment later, a hurried footfall, almost at a
run--a halting, uneven footfall, as though one leg was not doing its
share, and that then surely meant Sandy, and Sandy would know all that
had passed and would tell her. Yes, there he came, so vague, so shadowy,
now that, had she not heard the sound, she would not have looked for the
shadow. She saw the dark form dive quickly through the gate, then pause.
Instead of coming further, Sandy had stopped and, leaning at the
gate-post, was peering up along the fence line outside. How unlike Sandy
that seemed! Why should her son seek shelter and then turn and look back
from a safe covert along the path h