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There was a lively, rattling skirmish next morning between the rear-guard and the Indians, and at one time things looked as though the thinned battalion of their comrades of the th might be cut off, and some of Devers's regiment thought the rearmost troops ought to be deployed in support of the fellows who were fighting off the warriors, who came charging after them over wave after wave of prairie.
Next day, before the side lines were put on, in some mysterious way Devers's herd was stampeded and ran six miles before they could be rounded up, and he explained it was all because they weren't side-lined in the first place, as they were always accustomed to being, and as the regulations required they should be in the Indian country. This was another thing to make Tintop blaspheme.
It is one thing to say "I was in the wrong" to the victim, and quite another to admit it to one's fellows. It is fear of what the world will say that keeps many a man from righting many a wrong, and men, too, who wouldn't flinch in front of a mile of batteries. Standing listlessly by their horses, the men of Devers's troop had, some of them at least, been silent witnesses of the scene.
The general evidently knew of Devers's idiosyncrasies, but Mrs.
He started well, so to speak, and his quiet, reticent, observant, but unobtrusive ways favorably impressed his regimental comrades and led to many a commendatory remark from veteran officers. But there was universal comment, half humorous, half commiserating, upon his assignment to Devers's troop, and Devers knew it.
Somebody once referred to Devers as reminding her of a Hercules on horseback, which prompted Blake to respond, "Hercules! yes, by Jove, of the Farnese variety," whereat there was a guffaw among the men present who knew anything of art, and a general titter on every hand, for no one was ignorant of Devers's wide physical departure from artistic lines.
Indeed, there was no reason why they should be, as it was settled that their companies were those designated presently to return to Scott; so was Hay's troop, so presumably would be the detached members of Devers's Troop, "A," as soon as he wrote and called attention to the fact that nearly one-half his men were detained eighty miles away where there was now an abundance of other soldiery, and the truly remarkable thing was that he, always hitherto so quick to find fault with or criticise the actions of his superiors, was keeping utter silence, and so long as he made no protest no one else could.
Davies's positive denial of his allegations, Captain Devers promptly shifted the responsibility to the shoulders of the attendant, Private Paine, who had persisted, he said, in his story despite his, Devers's, incredulity and stringent cross-examination. Bang went Pegleg's fist on the bell. "Send for Private Paine, Troop 'A," said he. "I'm bound to get to the bottom of this at once."
There were other reasons, however, for Devers's inaction, and grave ones. Ever since the ominous visit of the staff officer from division head quarters he had felt that the ground was caving beneath his feet. For years had he been skimming along on the very verge of serious trouble, yet ever adroitly evading trial; always incurring censure, but escaping court-martial.
Stung by the language of the captain, the adjutant, himself a veteran soldier of years of war service such as Devers had never rendered, looked up from his desk and sharply asked what was Devers's complaint at the expense of his regimental comrade, the quartermaster.
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