s voice, in
subdued tone, had been faintly audible. The man proved to be the same
who had come to him so short a time before, and the mission was
practically the same, "A note for the lieutenant."

Ray took it to the west gate and read it under the lamp.

I ask for only five minutes, at the old place, about the same hour
to-morrow. I will never ask again, for I am to leave
Minneconjou--and him--forever.

Startled, stunned, he read her words. Was it then so _very_ serious as
this would imply? Was it her doing, or her husband's, that she should
leave? Was it possible that he, Sandy Ray, was even remotely a cause? He
could not fathom it. He would not rudely refuse. That would be simply
brutal. But why could she not see him here at home on the veranda? Why
must the meeting be so far from the post--so close to the--clandestine?
Mother had said----Then suddenly he bethought him that mother wished to
speak with him, that he had promised her to be home about taps, and,
even though he could not, dare not, talk with her to-night, he could and
should go to her at once.

He started; then, hearing laughing voices and light footsteps along the
walk ahead of him, hesitated. Some of those teasing, tormenting garrison
girls, of course! He could not face them. Abruptly he turned again,
passed round in rear of Dwight's, stowing the note in a little notebook
as he sped and the book in the breast pocket of his khaki tunic. Some
backstair flirtation was going on in the dusk of the summer night, not
ten paces ahead, for there was sound of playful Hibernian pleading, a
laughing, half-repelling, half-inviting "Ah, g'wan now!" followed by a
slap. A trim young trooper leaped backward from a gateway to avoid
another shock--and met it on Ray's stout shoulder. The collision
startled one and staggered both. The Irish lad, all confusion, sprang
for his officer's hat and restored it with, "Beg a thousand pardons,
Lieutenant," and blessed his young superior's kindly, "No harm done,
Kelly," as, whipping out his handkerchief, Ray sped along, dusting off
the felt.

And that harm had been done he never knew till later.

He had managed to put mother off until the following day; had gone forth
a second time, as has been told; had passed a second time the gate where
earlier in the evening she had awaited him. All at the moment was
apparently quiet. He had almost reached home when the sound of harsh
voices out beyond the east gate caught h