AT CAMP FLOYD

"I have important business to present to your commander. I bear with me letters and orders from President Brigham Young, endorsed by Governor Cumming. I must see General Johnston at once."

Diantha knew then that John had prepared himself for this before he had left the city, and she bowed her head in shame for all it implied concerning her beloved Ellen.

"I will leave you, Aunt Clara and Diantha," he said, as he drove on, "at the house of one of our people at the edge of the camp, while I go in and learn what I can from the commander. You will be perfectly safe, for Brother Hicks is the storekeeper, and he has his wife with him, and three grown boys. Wait here till I come for you."

John lifted Aunt Clara out, and gave the brother who came to the carriage directions to get her something to eat, for she was nearly worn out with her long and rough ride. Then he turned to the carriage, and taking Dian in his great strong arms, he lifted her to the ground, and without a word, he led her into the house, and shut the door between them.

He left the carriage at the house, and proceeded to the sleeping encampment on foot. It was midnight, and everything was dark and silent around the white-tented grounds. However, General Johnston arose at once in answer to the call, and with a slightly disgusted face listened to the story told by John.

"You will find Captain Sherwood in his own quarters, and you are at liberty to put whatever question you may choose to him, for Captain Sherwood has received strict orders on that subject from my own lips. My officers are gentlemen, and the soldiers are as decent and orderly as common men in any walk of life. I can't see on what grounds Governor Cumming interferes with my discipline in this way."

The general was intensely annoyed over the whole matter. Evidently a girl more or less was nothing to him. His rest and his discipline were of more consequence than all the women in the country. Yet he could not ignore the request of the Territorial executive, and so John was allowed to depart with permission to go where he pleased in the camp, and to secure and take away all the girls and women he could find or might choose to befriend. John found his way to the officers' tents, and as he approached them, he saw the light of a cigar in the front of one. He gave the pass-word and asked:

"May I inquire if I am near the tent of Captain Sherwood? I have business of importance with him."

"My name is Saxey," came the answer out of the darkness, and as the cigar was thrown away the colonel threw up the tent door and said:

"Come in, sir, whoever you are."

"My name is Stevens, and I am from Great Salt Lake City. I have reason to believe that Captain Sherwood has abducted a young girl from our midst, one Ellen Tyler. As she is the step-daughter of a widowed aunt, I have been authorized by the Governor and have received permission from your commander to do what I can to recover the young lady. Where can I find Captain Sherwood?"

John felt willing that any of them should know the object of his visit, for he keenly suspected that they must many of them be aware of it, anyway. Colonel Saxey stood toying with a small dagger on his low stand, and his kind face expressed something of the anxiety this disclosure had upon him. It was with a different tone of voice to that used by General Johnston that he replied:

"I have not seen any strange girl around the camp lately, but I am free to confess to you that Sherwood was not here at all yesterday. We only review twice a week, and so the commander did not know of his absence—an absence without leave, I must also confess. But I do not think that anything serious has happened, my dear Mr. Stevens. On the contrary, I hope you will find all your suspicions are groundless. Captain Sherwood is a gentleman." He winced a little as the familiar form of defense of a friend slipped from his lips. "I have every reason to believe that if you should find that the young lady you speak of has run away with the captain, he will marry her at once, even if he has not already done so."

John Stevens said nothing, but slowly stroked his beard, as he stood impatiently waiting to hunt the "gallant" captain up. The soldier noted the fiery gleam and glitter in the scintillating eyes of the mountaineer, and he felt that Sherwood would need all his skill to meet such a foe under any circumstances. He said no more, however, but silently led the way from his tent to Captain Sherwood's tent door.

A determined call brought out the sleepy orderly, who told Colonel Saxey that Sherwood had been away since yesterday morning, and he did not know anything about him. Saxey had feared this would be the result, but he stood uncertain for a moment. Then turning to Stevens he said:

"Come," and they glided out into the night, leaving the drowsy orderly to return to his broken slumber.

They passed rapidly through the outer lines, after giving the night pass-word, and once beyond the chance of being overheard by soldiers within the camp and stragglers within the village, Colonel Saxey paused in the high sagebrush around them, and drawing near the tall, shadowy form of his companion, he said, distinctly but softly:

"I believe you are a good man; I have seen a little of this matter, and I did what I could to avert this disaster. I cannot tell you all I know; it would be dishonorable. I want you to promise me one thing, and that is, that no matter what has happened, you will not commit a greater crime to avenge yourself of a wrong. Murder will not wipe out sin. And there is hate enough in the Territory as it is."

"I am not a common butcher," said John, gloomily.

"I have nothing farther to say. But there is a small log cabin not far from here, where Sherwood sometimes stays at nights." He started to go back to his quarters; then turning back, he paused as if to speak. John waited, but no word came from the trembling lips of the agitated soldier.

John hurried away, too anxious to wait longer, and the colonel again slowly bent his way in the dim, midnight darkness, to the sleeping village of the white tents, and as he passed the outer guard, he murmured:

"Have I done right, or have I done a cowardly thing?"

The guard touched his cap, and said:

"I did not understand you, sir."

"No matter," answered the colonel, as he passed on more rapidly to his tent.

"The girl may yet be saved, or he may be made to marry her," he muttered, as he threw up his own tent door.