People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 September 1893 — WARING'S [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WARING'S

By PERIL.

Cap! Charles kinq. u.s.armyJ

{Copyright, 1893, by J. B. Lippincott & Co., and published by special arrangement] lII.—CONTINUED. “Isn’t her mother with her, and, being in mourning, doesn’t she have to stay in her latticed loge instead of promenading in the foyer and drinking that tvvo-headaches-for-a-picayune punch?” queried Ferry, eager for a diversion. “Suppose she is,” answered Pierce, stoutly. “I’m a crank—straight-laced, if you like. It’s the fault of my bringing up. But I know, and you know, that that little woman, in her loneliness and in her natural longing for some congenial spirit to commune with, is simply falling madly in love with Sam Waring, and there will he tragedy here before we can stop it.” “See here Pierce,” asked Ferry, “do you suppose Mrs. Cram would he so loyal a friend to Waring if she thought •there was anything wrong in his attentions to Mine. Lascelles? Do you suppose Cram himself wouldn’t speak?” “He has spoken.” “He has? To whom?”

“To me, three days ago; said I had known Waring longest and best, perhaps was his most intimate friend, and lie though I ought to warn him of what people were saying.” “What have you done?” “Nothing yet; simply because I know Sam Waring so well that I know just what he’d do —go and pull the nose of the man who gossiped about him and her. Then we’d have a fight on our hands.” “Well, we can fight, I suppose, can’t we?” “Not without involving a woman’s name.” “Oh, good Lord, Pierce, was there ever a row without a woman au fond?” “That’s a worm-eaten witticism, Ferry, and you’re too decent a fellow, as a rule, to be cynical. I’ve got to speak to Waring, and I don’t know how to do it. I want your advice.” “Well, my advice is Punch’s: ‘Don’t.’ Hello! here’s Dryden. Thought you were on court duty up at headquarters to-day, old man. Come in and have a wet?” Mr. Ferry had seen some happy flays at Fortress Monroe when the •ships of her majesty’s navy lay off the Hygeia and the gallants of England lay to at the bar, and Ferry rejoiced in the vernacular of the united service, so far as he could learn it, as practiced abroad. “Thanks. Just had one over at Merton’s. Hear you’ve been having review and all that sort of thing down here,” said the infantryman, as he lolled back in an easy-chair and planted his bootheels on the gallery rail. “Glad I got •out of it. Court met and adjourned at ten, so I came home. How’d Waring .get off?” “Huh!—Cram’s wagon,” laughed Ferry, rather uncomfortably, however, . “Oh, Lord, yes, I know that. Didn’t I see him driving Mme. Lascelles up 'Rampart street as I came down in the mule car?” And then Pierce and Ferry looked at each other, startled. That evening, therefore, it was a com-' fort to both when Sam came tooling the stylish turnout through the sallyport and his battery chums caught •ight of the Aliertons. Pierce was just returning from -stables and Ferry was

smoking a pipe of perique on the broad gallery, and both hastened to don their best jackets and do IF their best caps to these interesting and interested callers. Cram himsetf had gone out for a ride and a think. He always declared his ideas were clearer after a gallop. The band played charmingly. Tbs ladies came out and made a picturesque croquet party on the green carpet of the parade. The officers clustered about and offered laughing wagers on the game. A dozen romping children were playing joyously around the tall flagstaff. The air was rich with the fragrance of the magnolia and Cape jasmine, and glad with music and soft and merry voices. Then the stirring bugles rang out their lively summons to the batterymen beyond the wall, The drums of the infantry rolled and rattled their echoing clamor. The guard sprang into rank, and their muskets, glistening in the slanting beams of the setting sun, clashed in simultaneous ‘present” to the red-sashed officer of the day, and that official raised his plumed hat to the lieutenant with the lovely girl by his side and the smiling elders on the back seat as the team once more made the circuit of the post on the back trip to town, and Miss Flora Allerton clasped her hands and looked enthusiastically up into her escort’s f&C6> “Oh,” she cried, “isn’t it all just too lovely for anything! Why, I think your life here must be like a dream.” But Miss Allerton, as Mrs. Cram had said, sometimes gushed, and life at Jackson barracks was no such dream as it appeared, The sun went down red and angry far across the tawny flood of the rushing river. The night lights were set at the distant bend below. The stars came peeping through a shifting filmy veil. The big trees on the levee and about tho flanking towers began to whisper and complain and creak, and tho rising wind sent long wisps of straggly cloud racing across the sky. The moon rose pallid and wan, hung for awhile over the dense black mass of moss-grown cypress in the eastward swamp, then hid her face feehind a heavy hank of clouds, as though reluctant to look upon the wrath to come, for a storm was rising fast and furious to break upon and deluge old Jackson barracks. rv. When Jeffers came driving into barracks on his return from town, his first care, as became the trained groom, was for his horses, and he was rubbing them down and bedding their stalls for the night when the sergeant of the battery guard, lantern in hand, appeared at the door. It was not yet tattoo, but by this time the darkness was intense, the heavens were hid, and the wind was moaning about the stables and gun-shed and whistling away over the dismal expanse of flat, wet, ditch-tangled fields towards the

swamp. But the cockney’s spirits were blithe as the clouds were black. As was usual when he or any other servitor was in attendance on Waring, the reward had been munificent. He had lunched at Cassidy’s at the lieutenant’s expense while that officer and his friends were similarly occupied at the more exclusive Moreau’s. He had stabled the team at the quartermaster’s while he had personally attended the matinee at the St. Charles, which was more to his taste than Booth and high tragedy. He had sauntered about the Tattersalls and smoked Waring’s cigars and patronized the jockeys gathered there for the spring meeting on the Metairie, but promptly on time was awaiting the return of the party from th#ir drive and lolling about the ladies’ entrance to the St. Charles hotel, when he became aware, as the lamps were being lighted and the dusk of the evening gave place to lively illumination, that two men had passed and repassed the open portals several times, and that they were eying him curiously, and chattering to each other in French. One of them he presently recognized as the little “frog-eater,” who occupied the old house on the levee, Lascelles, the husband of the pretty French woman he and the lieutenant had dragged out of the mud that very morning and had driven up to the old D’Hervilly place on Rampart street. Even as he was wondering how cabby got out of his scrape and chuckling with satisfaction over the scientific manner in which Mr. Waring had floored that worthy, Mr. Jeffers was surprised to find himself most civilly accosted by old Lascelles, who had been informed, he said, by madame his wife, of the heroic services rendered her that morning by M. Jeffers and M. le Capitaine. He begged of the former the acceptance of the small douceur which he slipped into the Englishman’s accustomed palm, and inquired when -he might hope to see the brave captain and disembarrass himself of bis burdan of gratitude-

“Here they come now," said Jeff era, promptly pocketing the money and springing forward to knuckle his hatbrim and stand at the horses’ heads. All grace and animation, Mr. Waring had assisted his friends to alight, had promised to join them in the ladies’ parlor in ten minutes, had sprung to the seat again, signaling Jeffers to tumble up behind, and then had driven rapidly away through Carondelet street to the broad avenue beyond Here he tossed the reins to Jeffers, disappeared a moment, and came back with a little Indian-made basket filled to overflowing with exquisite double violets rich with fragrance. “Give this to Mrs. Cram for me, and tell the captain I’ll drop in to thank him in a couple of hours, and — Here, Jeffers,” he said, ancj Jeffers had pocketed another greenback, and had driven briskly homeward, well content with the result of his day’s labors, and without having mentioned to Mr. Waring the fact that LasceUes had been at the hotel making inquiries for him. A day so profitable and so pleasant Jeffers had not enjoyed since his arrival at the barracks, and he was humming away in high good humor, all reckless of the rising storm, when the gruff voice of Sergt. Schwartz disturbed him: r “Chewere, you will rebort at vonst to Capt. Cram.” “Who says I will?” said Jeffers, cheerfully, though bent on mischief, but was awed into instant silence at seeing that veteran step quickly back, stand attention, and raise his hand in salute, for there came Cram himself, Pierce with him. “Did Mr. Waring come back with you?” was the first question. “No, sir; Hi left Mr. Warink on Canal street. ’E said ’e’d bo back to thank the capt’in in a little while, sir, and V sent these for the capt’in’s la(jy.” Ci-am took the beautiful basket of violets with dubious hand, though his eyes kindled when he noted their profusion and fragrance. Nell loved violets, and it was like Waring to remember so bountifully her fondness for them. “What detained him? Did he send no wofd?” “’E said nothink, and sent nothink but the basket, sir. ’E said a couple of hours, now I think of it, sir. ’E was going back to the ’otel to dine with a lady and gent.” For a moment Cram was silent. He glanced at Pierce, as much as to say: Have you no question to ask? but the youngster held his peace. The senior officer hated to inquire of his servant into the details of the day’s doings. He was more than half indignant at Waring for having taken such advantage of even an implied permission as to drive off with his equipage and groom in so summary a way. Of course Nell had said: “Take it and go;” but Nell could have had no idea of the use !)o which the wagon was to be put. If

Waring left the garrison with the intention of using the equipage to take Mme. Lascelles driving, it was the most underhand and abominable thing he had ever heard of his doing. It was unlike him. It couldn’t be true. Yet had not Braxton shown him the letter which said he was seen on the levee with her by his side? Had not Dryden further informed every man and woman and child with whom he held converse during the day that he had seen Waring with Cram’s team driving Mme. Lascelles up Rampart street, and was not there a story already afloat that old Lascelles had forbidden him ever to darken his threshold again —forbidden madame to drive, dance, or even speak with him? And was there not already in the post commander’s hand a note intimating that M. Lascelles would certainly challenge Waring to instant and mortal combat if Waring had used the wagon as alleged? Jeffers must know about it and could and should tell if required, but Cram simply could not and would not ask the groom to detail the movements of the gentleman. Had not Waring sent word he would be home in two hours and would come to see his battery commander at once? Did not that mfcan he would explain fully? Cram gulped down the query that rose to his lips. “All right, then, Pierce; we’ll take these over to Mrs. Cram and have a bite ready for Waring on his return,” said the stout-hearted fellow, and, in refusing to question his servant, missed the chance of averting catastrophe. And so they bore the beautiful cluster of violets, with its mute pledge of fidelity and full explanation, to his rejoicing Nell, and the trio sat and chatted, and one or two visitors came in for awhile and then scurried home as the rain began to plash on the windows, and the bugles and drums and fifes sounded far away at t&ttoo and more than usually weird and mournful at taps, and finally ten-thirty came, by which tim*. it bad been raining tor-

rents, and the wind was l*nhing the roaring river into foam, and the trees were bowing low before their master, and the levee road was a quagmire, and Cram felt convinced no cab could bring his subaltern home. Yet in his nervousness and anxiety he pulled on his boots, threw his gum coat over his uniform, tiptoed in to bend over Nell’s sleeping form and whisper, should she wake, that he was going only to the sally-port of perhaps over to Waring’a quarters, but she slept peacefully and never stirred* so noiselessly he slipped out on the gallery and down the stairs and stalked boldly out into the raging storm, guided by the dim light burning in Waring’s room. Ananias was sleeping curled up on a rug in front of the open fireplace, and Cram stirred him up with hi* foot. The negro rolled lazily over, with a stretch and yawn. “Did Mr. Waring take any arms with him?” queried the captain. “Any whut, suh?” responded Ananias, rubbing his eyes and still only half awake.

“Any pistol pr knife?" “Lord, suh, no. Mr. Waring don’t never carry anything o’ datsort.” A student lamp was burning low on the center table. There lay among the books and papers a couple of letters, evidently received that day and still unopened. There lay Waring’s cigar case, a pretty trifle given him by some far-away friend, with three or four fragrant Havanas temptingly visible. There lay a late magazine, its pages still uncut. Cram looked at the dainty wall clock, ticking merrily away over the mantle. Eleven-thirty-flve! Well, he was too anxious to sleep anyhow, why not wait a few minutes? Waring might come, probably would come. If no cab could make its way down by the levee road, there were the late cars from town. Thev had to make the effort anyhow. Cram stepped to the sideboard, mixed a mild toddy, sipped reflectively, then lighted a cigar and threw himself into the easy-chaif. Ananias, meantime, was up and astir. Seeing that Cram was looking about in search of a paper-cutter, the boy stepped forward and bent over the table. “Pe lieutenant always usesdis, suh,'* said he, lifting first one paper, then another, searching under eaoh. “Don’t seem to be yer turn, suh. You’ve seen it, dough, captain—that cross-handled dagger wid the straight blade.” “Yes, I know. Where is it?” asked Cram. “That’ll do.” “Tain’t yer, suh, now. Can’t find it yer, nohow.” “Well, then, Mr. Waring probably took a knife, after all.” “No, suh, I don’t t’ink so. I never knowed him to use it befo’ away from de room.” “Anybody else been here?” said Cram. “Oh! dey was all in yer, suh, dis afternoon, but Mr. Doyle he was sent for, suh, and had to go.” A step and the rattle of a sword were heard pn the gallery without. The door opened, and in came Merton of the infantry, officer of the day. [to be continued.]

FERRY AND PIERCE GAZED SILENTLY AFTER HIM.