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Updated: June 28, 2025
When he thundered to a halt at the porch steps Madeline, breathless and disheveled, alighted with the mass of her hair tumbling around her. Alfred met her, and his exclamation, and Florence's rapt eyes shining on her face, and Stillwell's speechlessness made her self-conscious. Laughing, she tried to put up the mass of hair. "I must look a fright," she panted.
Some very strange things had occurred of late, and it was impossible to tell whether or not they were accidents, mere coincidents, or deep-laid, skilfully worked-out designs of the fun-loving cowboys. Certainly there had been great fun, and at the expense of her guests, particularly Castleton. So Madeline was at a loss to know what to think about Stillwell's latest elaboration.
Some were from Washington, assuring her of every possible service; some were from New York; others written in Spanish were from El Paso, and these she could not wholly translate in a brief glance. Would she never find Stillwell's message? It was the last. It was lengthy. It read: Bought Stewart's release. Also arranged for his transfer as prisoner of war. Both matters official.
Consequently, two hours after midnight, under protection of darkness and without the knowledge of the community, Christie was secretly removed from sheriff Stillwell's house to New Amsterdam. During the next day the tidings of his removal spread through the streets. It created great exasperation.
At a point about a mile or so from where we left the train, we reached one of our railroad block houses, held by a small garrison. Here we halted, and reformed. As I came slowly trudging up to Co. D, Bill Banfield was talking to Lieut. Wallace, and said: "I guess Stillwell's gone up. Haven't seen him since we crossed that creek."
For their protection, and to await the coming of the balance of the second brigade, Col. Fry, of Henry's brigade, was sent forward immediately. The next morning Gen. Henry's brigade moved forward with Gen. Atkinson at the head, intending to march up Rock river, to the Four Lakes, and camped at Stillwell's battle-ground the first night and joined Col.
"One can't well object, Russell," said a younger man, evidently a friend of Stillwell's. "Maitland brought it on, and I hope he gets mighty well trimmed. He is altogether too high and mighty these days." "Oh, I don't agree with you at all," broke in Frances, in a voice coldly proper. "You heard what Mr. Stillwell said?" "Well, not exactly."
There was a great symposium at Counselor Stillwell's residence by the leafy borders of the park. The great advocate rejoiced at the removal of every stain from Clayton's memory, and marvelled greatly at the deeply-laid snares of the man whose body now lay unhonored at the morgue.
It went against all the precepts of her training; nevertheless, it was somehow splendid and beautiful. She imagined it stripped another artificial scale from her over-sophisticated eyes. Scarcely had she settled again to the task on her desk when Stillwell's heavy tread across the porch interrupted her.
Stillwell had a strong following of his own who expressed their feelings by their silence at Jack's brilliant strokes and their loud approval of Stillwell's good work when he gave them opportunity, while many of Maitland's friends deprecated his tactics and more especially his spirit.
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