The worst of having a man of Moreland's views present on such an occasion is that the whole thing is sure to be noised abroad with scant reference to military propriety. Moreland told the owners of the steamer line, the Chamber of Commerce, the easily-gathered audience on Rush and Montgomery streets, the usual customers at Barry & Patton's, the loungers in the lobbies of the hotels, everybody who would listen—and who would not?—how that brave fellow Loring, who ought to have been a sailor, faced down that quartette of "blue-bellied lobsters" up at headquarters. The General was not a popular character. His principal claim to distinction during the great war seemed to be that of being able to criticise every other general's battles and to win none of his own. "He never went into a fight that he didn't get licked," declared the exultant Moreland, "and now he's bowled over by his youngest lieutenant." The story of that interview went over the bay like wildfire and stirred up the fellows at the Presidio and Angel Island, while the islanders of Alcatraz came bustling to town to learn the facts as retailed at the Occidental, and to hear something more about that queer, silent fellow Loring. Among the junior subalterns in the artillery were one or two who knew him at the Point, and they scouted the story of his having ever having stolen a cent's worth, or the idea of extracting anything about the matter from his lips. The latest yarn in circulation was that after the now famous interview Loring had "laid for" Captain Petty, the aide-de-camp referred to, a young Gothamite of good family who had got into the regulars early in the war and out of company duty from that time to this, and, having met the aide-de-camp, Loring had thereupon calmly pulled the gentleman's aquiline nose for him. Petty could not be found, had gone to Fort Yuma on important business for the department commander, was the explanation. The General properly refused to be interviewed by reporters of the papers and couldn't be approached by anybody else on the subject. Only two things were positively known. Lieutenant Loring had received telegraphic notification from the Chief of Engineers of his relief from duty in the department and his assignment to similar work in the Department of the Platte, and it was rumored, though it could not be confirmed, that the General had been directed by telegraph to designate a staff officer to receipt to Lieutenant Loring at once for the public property for which he was accountable, in order that the latter officer might take an early steamer for the Isthmus, as his services were urgently needed at his new station. It was an open secret that the General considered himself aggrieved by the action of the authorities at Washington and said so. He had made no charge against Lieutenant Loring. He had merely called that gentleman's attention to the very serious allegations laid at his door, and this was true. On the other hand, people who had been permitted to know anything about the matter, notably certain senior officers of the Engineer Corps not under the General's orders, and one or two staff department officers who, unhappily for themselves, were under his orders and subject to his semi-occasional rebuke, now openly said that not one allegation against Loring came from a reliable or respectable source, and that it was an outrage to have held him even to inferential account on the statement of such a cad as Escalante's agent, who hadn't been near the office since the recovery of Captain Moreland, the insinuations of Mr. Purser Traynor, now totally vanished, and the rumored aspersions of a fair incognita, known only to Captain Petty, a man who had few associates in the "line" or outside the limited circle of the General's personal staff, and who was not too well liked even there.

And, as the revulsion of feeling set in, Petty set out for Yuma. "Where there is so damned much smoke," said he, as it later transpired, "there must be some fire," and the General had bidden him to go to Yuma, to Gila Bend, to Guaymas, to the devil, if need be, and find out all the facts. But the linesmen at Presidio and the jovial blades at Moreland's elbow were loud in their laughing statement that if Petty were looking for fire he could have found it here in abundance. Loring could have given him more than he wanted.

Then came the order in the case of Captain Nevins, dismissing that worthy from the service on charges of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, and awarding a year's imprisonment at such penitentiary, etc., as the reviewing authority should direct, and by the same post the official order transferring Lieutenant Loring of the Engineers to duty in the Department of the Platte, and then what did the steamship company do but issue invitations for a dinner to be given in honor of that distinguished young officer, and great was the noise thereof until it was known that the gentleman had gratefully, but firmly declined. Then the papers said "it was rumored" that the General had forbidden his acceptance, despite the fact that the General had expressed publicly his gratification that the company had at last done something in recognition of its indebtedness to the army—which was most adroit, and equally impersonal. And all the while Loring himself was having anything but an enviable time of it. A man so reticent and retiring could not but be annoyed by the persistent calls and cross-questions of all manner of people in whom he had but small personal interest. He wished to have nothing whatever to say upon the subject, denied himself to reporters and relapsed into impenetrable reserve when importuned by brother officers whom he but slightly knew. One or two with whom he would gladly have held counsel were far removed, one at least forever, from his circle. The stalwart old inspector, Turnbull, lay sleeping his last sleep in the cemetery at Monterey. The veteran who served as president of the Nevins' court was in far Arizona, and Blake, sound of heart, if not of head, was under a cloud at Yuma. His forceful expressions concerning the imbecility of department officials led to his being confined very closely to company work and minor, yet exacting, duties at the post, all because of his abandonment of Lieutenant Loring at a critical moment, said the few defenders of the department's letter to the post commander on that subject. "All because of his too vehement defense of Loring," said everybody else.

With feverish eagerness, Loring awaited the sailing of the next steamer. Every item for which he stood accountable was then at his office, invoices and receipts made out in full. Nothing was needed but the officer designated to relieve him. The Columbia was to leave on Saturday, and up to Thursday evening no relief had appeared. Friday morning the adjutant-general received a written communication, most respectful yet urgent in terms, requesting that the officer might be designated without further delay, and as no answer was received up to noon, Loring followed it with a personal call upon the chief of staff, who said the General had the matter under advisement.

"My luggage goes aboard the Columbia to-night, sir, and I should be aboard by ten o'clock to-morrow," said Loring. Colonel Strain coughed dubiously.

"It might be impracticable to relieve you from duty so soon. The General is in communication with the War Department upon the subject, and possibly if—you—had had the courtesy to call upon the General or upon me, his chief-of-staff, and to explain your wishes, the thing might have been arranged."

Loring flushed. He saw through the motive at a glance, and could have found it easy to express his opinion in very few words. There are times when a man is so goaded that an outburst is the only natural relief, but it is none the less fatal. There might even be method in the colonel's manner, and Loring curbed, with long-practiced hand, both tongue and temper. It would have been warrantable to say that the manner of both the General and his chief-of-staff had been too repellent to to invite calls, but he knew that, whatever the merits of the case, superior officers, like inferior papers, always have the last word. He might be only inviting reprimand. Without a word, therefore, he faced about, went straight to the telegraph office down the avenue and wired to Washington. "Steamer sails noon Saturday. Not yet relieved. What instructions?"

By that hour there would be no one in the office of the Chief of Engineers at Washington, but Loring addressed it direct to the home of the assistant, upon whose interest in the case he had reason to rely, and then returned at once to his desk. Were he not to be there it would place it in the power of a would-be oppressor to say the officer designated to receive the property had called during office hours and could not find Mr. Loring. And then, with such patience as he could command, Loring received the visitors who kept dropping in, among them the boisterous Moreland, whose Bay of Biscay voice had become almost as trying to his host as to the other occupants of the building, and during the long afternoon awaited the action of the General upon his morning's letter and that of the War Department upon his telegram.

Four o'clock came at last. Office hours were over. Neither relief nor reply had reached him. He heard the halls resounding to the footsteps of officers and clerks as they closed their doors and left the building. Bidding his assistant remain a moment he strode to the further end of the long passage. The General was at the moment issuing from his private office, conversing with two of his staff. The adjutant-general, a bundle of papers in his hand, was hastily crossing the hall toward his own office. Loring raised his hat in grave salutation to his commander, who bowed with dignified reserve in return, and moment later the Engineer was facing the colonel at his desk.

"Colonel Strain," said he, "I have much to do. Will you name the hour at which I am to meet my relief?"

"Mr. Loring," said the official tartly, "when we are ready to relieve you the order will be issued—and not before."

"Colonel Strain," answered Loring, "I shall be at my office all evening, ready to receive that order." And wheeling about he met the General at the door. An open telegram was in the latter's hand, a queer look on his flushed and angry face. Relieving his impatient clerk, Loring seated himself to answer a letter, and there fell from the package he drew from his pocket a little note, and with a sudden pang of shame and sorrow he stooped and picked it up. It was only a tiny missive, only a few sad, almost pleading, words. Did he mean to go without a word of good-by to Pancha? His heart reproached him as he remembered that this had reached him two days before.

He was writing a note to the Lady Superior, telling her of his expectation of sailing on the morrow, and asking if he might be permitted to call to say adieu to his little friend of the shipwreck, when an orderly entered.

"Colonel Strain's compliments and desires to see the lieutenant at once." It was not customary for officers to be so summarily summoned after office hours, but Loring went. With a hand that trembled visibly, but with every effort to control his voice, the chief-of-staff held forth a telegram and said:

"The General desires to know, sir, whether you have sent any telegram to Washington which can account for this?"

Loring took and slowly read it. Divested of address and signature it read as follows:

"The Secretary of War is informed that Lieutenant Loring has not been relieved as directed. Report reason by telegraph."

Loring deliberately finished reading, and then as deliberately looked up.

"I have, sir."

"Then it is the General's order, sir," said the chief-of-staff, "that you go at once to your quarters in close arrest."