ing of
Wayne's rescue and Ray's heroic conduct, and he was furious over the
tidings that his gallant friend had been placed in arrest on charges
that had not been investigated at department headquarters, or by anybody
who could represent Ray's interests. Even before the telegrams came in
from the regiment protesting against Ray's trial in their absence, he
had started for Kansas City armed with a copy of the charges and
specifications, had easily determined that the civilians cited as
witnesses were men who really knew little or nothing, but had only a
vague, "hearsay" idea of matters, which vigorous cross-questioning
developed that they had mainly derived from letters or talks of
Gleason's, or had got from Rallston himself, who, said they, was riled
because he couldn't play off a lot of broken-down mustangs for sound
horses on that board. No one could swear that he had seen Ray drink; no
one could swear he had played any game for any stake; no one could
testify to a single act of his that was in the faintest degree
unofficerlike or unbecoming a gentleman. Indeed, even the cads with whom
Gleason consorted seemed to have become inspired with contempt. And Rand
went back to Omaha satisfied that the charges were all conspiracy. But
Rallston had kept out of his way. He could not reach him. No one knew
where he was. Some went so far as to say he was ashamed of having been
mixed up with Gleason in such a low piece of business. Even Mrs.
Rallston at Omaha could tell nothing of her husband's whereabouts, and
was in great distress over the letters from her brother announcing the
trouble in which he was enveloped, all on account of Rallston's
rascality as she felt, though he would not say. Then came the fearful
news that Gleason was murdered by her brother, and the next day she had
sold one of the beautiful solitaires that Rallston had given her in the
days when he was a dashing wooer, and on the same train with Colonel
Rand she hastened to Cheyenne. Blake was presented to her as she
alighted from the cars, and conducted her to the parlor of the hotel,
where in few words he told them of the discovery of Rallston's letters
in the dead man's pockets, and of Wolfs gauntlet in the dead man's room.
The detectives had urged that nothing should be revealed in this last
matter, as every effort was now being made to capture the ex-sergeant,
and that little man from Denver had already a reply from his chief,
saying that Rallston was there a