“Good evening, Sergeant,” the latter said genially.  “Just in from town?  I expect they are having some dance down there to-night.”

“Yes, sir,” hesitatingly, and then venturing the inquiry.  “May I ask if Major McDonald has returned to the post?”

“McDonald?  No,” he glanced at his watch.  “He had orders to go east to Ripley on the stage.  That was due out about an hour ago.”

“To Ripley?  By stage?” the Sergeant repeated the words, dazed.  “Why—­why, what has become of Miss McDonald?”

The officer smiled, shaking his head.

“I ’m sure I don’t know, my man,” he returned carelessly.  “Come back with Barrett and his lady-love, likely.  Why?” suddenly interested by the expression on the other’s face.  “What’s happened?  Is there anything wrong?”

CHAPTER XXII

A DEEPENING MYSTERY

Startled and bewildered as Hamlin was by this sudden revealment, he at once comprehended the embarrassment of his own position.  He could not confess all he knew, certainly not the fact that the girl had met him secretly and had vanished while he was endeavoring to turn aside Mrs. Dupont.  He must protect her at all hazards.  To gain time, and self-control, he replied with a question: 

“Did not Connors drive them down, sir?”

“Yes, the four of them.”

“And Major McDonald knew then that he was ordered East?”

“No, the order came by telegram later.  An orderly was sent down about ten o’clock.  But, see here, Sergeant, I am no Bureau of Information.  If you have anything to report, make it brief.”

Hamlin glanced at the face of the other.  He knew little about him, except that he had the reputation of being a capable officer.

“I will, sir,” he responded quickly; “you may never have heard of the affair, but I was with Miss McDonald during a little Indian trouble out on the trail a few months ago.”

The officer nodded.

“I heard about that; Gaskins brought her in.”

“Well, ever since she has seemed grateful and friendly.  You know how some women are; well, she is that kind.  To-night she came to me, because she did n’t seem to know whom else to go to, and told me of some trouble she was having.  I realize, Captain Kane, that it may seem a bit strange to you that a young lady like Miss McDonald, an officer’s daughter, would turn for help to an enlisted man, but I am telling you only the truth, sir.  You see, she got it into her head somehow that I was square, and—­and, well, that I cared enough to help her.”

“Wait a minute, Sergeant,” broke in Kane, kindly, realizing the other’s embarrassment, and resting one hand on his sleeve.  “You do not need to apologize for Miss McDonald.  I know something of what is going on at this post, although, damn me if I ’ve ever got on to the straight facts.  You mean that Dupont woman?”