garrison news and gossip.  Broussard was thoroughly glad to be back once more at the handsome mess table, with the bright faces of the subalterns around him and the cheery talk and honest laughter, but his heart was full of other things—­Anita Fortescue, for instance, and Lawrence and his wife and the little boy.  Some questions were asked him about Lawrence.  Broussard replied briefly that he found the man in San Francisco trying to get back to Fort Blizzard; he wanted to give himself up at the scene of his crime and Broussard had paid for his railway ticket.

“And brought him with you to keep him from getting away,” said Conway, “very judicious thing to do with men like Lawrence.”

“I think he would have given himself up anyway,” Broussard replied quietly.

Military justice is short and simple and severe.  Within forty-eight hours the court-martial sat.  As Lawrence marched into the courtroom between two soldiers, guarding him, his wife, dressed in black, as always, and with Mrs. McGillicuddy sitting near her, rose from her seat and took another one as close to her husband as she could get and smiled encouragement at him.  Lawrence, watching her tender gaze, burst into tears.

It was all done very quickly.  Sergeant McGillicuddy was one of the two witnesses, Broussard being the other.  The Sergeant testified as if he were the criminal and not Lawrence.  Broussard was the second witness and merely told of Lawrence coming to him in San Francisco, saying he wished to get to Fort Blizzard and give himself up.  He could have done so at San Francisco but he wanted to see his wife and child and believed he would get more mercy at Fort Blizzard than any where else.

Then the prisoner was called to tell his story.  He did it quietly and in a few words.  He had no thought of deserting until he struck the Sergeant.  Then he was frightened and ran away and, making the railway station, hid in a freight car and got away.  He worked his way East, and found employment as a miner and was earning good wages, but his conscience troubled him, especially after he received a letter from his wife.  He had got as far as San Francisco, which took all his savings, when he saw Mr. Broussard’s name in the newspapers and went to see him.  He asked the mercy of the court.

The court was merciful, and gave him the shortest possible prison sentence, to be served out at the military prison of Fort Blizzard.  All the officers kept their eyes turned from the pale woman in black, sitting close to the prisoner.  They wished to do justice and not to be turned from it by a woman’s pleading eyes.

CHAPTER VIII

LOVE, THE CONQUEROR

Broussard meant to spend his three months’ leave in the pursuit of happiness at Fort Blizzard, where he could see Anita every day if he wanted—­and he always wanted to see Anita.  She was now nearing her nineteenth birthday and could hardly be considered the infant which Colonel Fortescue continued to proclaim her to be.