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Updated: May 26, 2025
Soon after "taps" was sounded, however, the youngster joined the little group gossiping in guarded tones on the porch at Captain Sanders', far down the row, and, in response to question, said that "Bugs" that being Blakely's briefest nom de guerre must be convalescing rapidly, he "had no use for his friends," and, as the lad seemed somewhat ruffled and resentful, what more natural than that he should be called upon for explanation?
Plume had started up, with staring eyes. "Proofs!" she cried, "in Blakely's hands! Why, she told me my own letters! my " And then brutal man was brought to his senses and made to see how heartless and cruel was his conduct, for Mrs. Plume went into a fit and Mrs. Lynn for the doctor. That was a wild night at Sandy. Two young matrons had made up their minds that it was shameful to leave poor Mrs.
Seven of these had gone with the convoy to Prescott, and, when Cutler ordered half a dozen horsemen out at midnight to follow Blakely's trail and try to find him, they had to draw on both troop stables, and one of the designated men was the wretch Downs, and Downs was not in his bunk, not anywhere about the quarters or corrals.
And here you are; calling on her? Well, well, well! Elizabeth, haven't you any tea to offer Blakely's mother!" "Mrs. Porter was just leaving," I managed to say. "She has been here some time." Dad beamed on us both. "I told Blakely, Elizabeth couldn't marry him until you consented," he blundered on, "but now I suppose it is all arranged. These children of ours are wonderfully impatient.
The discovery of Blakely's watch, buried loosely in the sands barely ten feet from where the sentry fell, had seemed to him a matter of such significance that, as Graham maintained an expression of professional gravity and hazarded no explanation, the major sent for the three captains still on duty, Cutler, Sanders, and Westervelt, and sought their views.
"But he wrote " From between the leaves of a book on the mantel, she produced a folded paper. "Or someone else's," went on Oliver. She had been about to hand him Blakely's letter. Now, as if struck by an idea, she put it back into the book. When she turned, her eyes were swimming. "It likely was 'someone else," she said. "God bless you anyway! To think of such a thing in the midst of your worry!
The sight of this man, speeding down the row, bombarded all the way with questions he could not stop to answer, startled every soul along that westward-facing front, and sent men and women streaming up the line toward Blakely's quarters at the north end.
"Didn't you enjoy the last meeting of the Cotillion Club?" Margaret said finally. And upon Mr. Blakely's answering absently in the affirmative, she suddenly began to be talkative. He seemed to catch a meaning in her fluency, and followed her lead, a conversation ensuing which at first had all the outward signs of eagerness.
But the sweetest thing to me of all that wonderful evening was to see the love and gratitude in Blakely's eyes when he looked at his mother; for a man who doesn't love his mother misses much, and I love Blakely so tenderly, I couldn't bear to have him miss the last then that makes for contentment and happiness.
"Don't worry about me any of you," said Blakely, in brief farewell. "Good-night," and with that he rode away. Arnold and the men stood gazing after him. "Grit clean through," said the ranchman, through his set teeth, for a light was dawning on him, as he pondered over Blakely's words. "May the Lord grant I don't have to deliver these!" Then he looked at the superscriptions.
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