PAGE 11
She Of The Triple Chevron
by
When she got back to the sitting-room she said to herself: “How old father’s looking! He seems broken up to-day. He isn’t what he used to be.” She turned once more to look at Sergeant Tom, then she went to her room.
A little later Peter Galbraith and Pretty Pierre went to the sitting-room, and the old man drew from the Sergeant’s pocket the envelope which Jen had seen. Pierre took it from him. “No, Pete Galbraith. Do not be a fool. Suppose you steal that paper. Sergeant Tom will miss it. He will understand. He will guess about the drug, then you will be in trouble. Val will be safe now. This Rider of the Plains will sleep long enough for that. There, I put the paper back. He sleeps like a log. No one can suspect the drug, and it is all as we like. No, we will not steal; that is wrong–quite wrong”–here Pretty Pierre showed his teeth. “We will go to bed. Come!”
Jen heard them ascend the stairs. She waited a half-hour, then she stole into Val’s bedroom, and when she emerged again she had a bundle of clothes across her arm. A few minutes more and she walked into the sitting-room dressed in Val’s clothes, and with her hair closely wound on the top of her head.
The house was still. The Prairie Star made the room light enough for her purpose. She took Sergeant Tom’s cap and cloak and put them on. She drew the envelope from his pocket and put it in her bosom–she showed the woman there, though for the rest of this night she was to be a Rider of the Plains, She of the Triple Chevron.
She went towards the door, hesitated, drew back, then paused, stooped down quickly, tenderly touched the soldier’s brow with her lips, and said: “I’ll do it for you. You shall not be disgraced–Tom.”
III
This was at half-past ten o’clock. At two o’clock a jaded and blown horse stood before the door of the barracks at Archangel’s Rise. Its rider, muffled to the chin, was knocking, and at the same time pulling his cap down closely over his head. “Thank God the night is dusky,” he said. We have heard that voice before. The hat and cloak are those of Sergeant Tom, but the voice is that of Jen Galbraith. There is some danger in this act; danger for her lover, contempt for herself if she is discovered. Presently the door opens and a corporal appears. “Who’s there? Oh,” he added, as he caught sight of the familiar uniform; “where from?”
“From Fort Desire. Important orders to Inspector Jules. Require fresh horse to return with; must leave mine here. Have to go back at once.”
“I say,” said the corporal, taking the papers–“what’s your name?”
“Gellatly–Sergeant Gellatly.”
“Say, Sergeant Gellatly, this isn’t accordin’ to Hoyle–come in the night and go in the night and not stay long enough to have a swear at the Gover’ment. Why, you’re comin’ in, aren’t you? You’re comin’ across the door-mat for a cup of coffee and a warm while the horse is gettin’ ready, aren’t you, Sergeant–Sergeant Gellatly, Sergeant Gellatly? I’ve heard of you, but–yes; I will hurry. Here, Waugh, this to Inspector Jules! If you won’t step in and won’t drink and will be unsociable, sergeant, why, come on and you shall have a horse as good as the one you’ve brought. I’m Corporal Galna.”
Jen led the exhausted horse to the stables. Fortunately there was no lantern used, and therefore little chance for the garrulous corporal to study the face of his companion, even if he wished to do so. The risk was considerable; but Jen Galbraith was fired by that spirit of self-sacrifice which has held a world rocking to destruction on a balancing point of safety.
The horse was quickly saddled, Jen meanwhile remaining silent. While she was mounting, Corporal Galna drew and struck a match to light his pipe. He held it up for a moment as though to see the face of Sergeant Gellatly. Jen had just given a good-night, and the horse the word and a touch of the spur at the instant. Her face, that is, such of it as could be seen above the cloak and under the cap, was full in the light. Enough was seen, however, to call forth, in addition to Corporal Galna’s good-night, the exclamation, “Well, I’m blowed!”