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Updated: June 28, 2025
Private Gellatly said, with a shake of the head, as she was lost to view: "Devils bestir me, what a widdy she'll make!" It was understood that Aleck Windsor and Mab Humphrey were to be married on the coming New Year's Day. What connection was there between the words of Sergeant Fones and those of Private Gellatly? None, perhaps.
"They say you are to get a Christmas present of promotion, Sergeant Fones." "I have not seen it gazetted," he answered enigmatically. "You and your friends will be glad of it." "I like the service." "You will have more freedom with a commission." He made no reply, but rose and walked to the window, and looked out across the snow, drawing on his gauntlets as he did so.
But there was one spot in the area of white, on which Mab's eyes were fixed now, with something different in them from what had been there. Again it was a memory with which Sergeant Fones was associated.
Her purity and affection were being played against Pierre's designs and Young Aleck's weakness. With Aleck cards and liquor went together. Pierre seldom drank. But what of Sergeant Fones?
"Why should I go with you?" this with a drunken man's bravado. "You are my prisoner." Pierre stepped forward. "What is his crime?" he exclaimed. "How does that concern you, Pretty Pierre?" "He is my friend." "Is he your friend, Aleck?" What was there in the eyes of Sergeant Fones that forced the reply, "To-night, yes; to-morrow, no." "Exactly. It is near to-morrow; come."
Sergeant Fones thought differently, and his mission had just been to warn the store-keeper that there was menacing evidence gathering against him, and that his friendship with Golden Feather, the Indian Chief, had better cease at once. Sergeant Fones had a way of putting things. Old Brown Windsor endeavoured for a moment to be sarcastic.
The bridle rein was still in the frigid fingers, and a smile was upon the face. A smile upon the face of Sergeant Fones! Perhaps he smiled that he was going to the Barracks of the Free "Free among the Dead like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, that are out of remembrance." In the wild night he had lost his way, though but a few miles from the barracks.
Officers and privates were acted on by the force known as Sergeant Fones. Some people, like Old Brown Windsor, spoke hardly and openly of this force. There were three people who never did Pretty Pierre, Young Aleck, and Mab Humphrey. Pierre hated him; Young Aleck admired in him a quality lying dormant in himself decision; Mab Humphrey spoke unkindly of no one. Besides but no!
But he was found that morning; and when Private Gellatly, with a warm hand, touching the glove of "iron and ice" that, indeed, now said: "Sergeant Fones, you are promoted, God help you!" he gave no sign. Motionless, stern, erect, he sat there upon his horse, beside a stunted larch tree. The broncho seemed to understand, for he did not stir, and had not done so for hours; they could tell that.
All started to their feet, most with curses on their lips; but Sergeant Fones never seemed to hear anything that could make a feature of his face alter. Pierre's hand was on his hip, as if feeling for something. Sergeant Fones saw that; but he walked to where Aleck stood, with his unplayed cards still in his hand, and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said, "Come with me."
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