For a moment no further word was spoken. The officer presently helped the soldier to his feet and stayed him, for the latter's legs seemed wobbly. Field let his salvage get its breath before asking questions. Yet he was puzzled, for the man's face was strange to him. "Who are you?" he asked, at length, "and what on earth are you doing out here this time of night?" "Kennedy, sir. Captain Truscott's troop, at Fort Beecher. I got in with despatches an hour ago--" "What!" cried Field. "Despatches! What did you do--" "Gave 'em to the major, sir. Beg pardon; they was lookin' for the adjutant, sir, an' Sergeant Hogan said he wasn't home." Even in the moonlight the Irishman saw the color fade from the young officer's face. The hand that stayed him dropped nerveless. With utter consternation in his big blue eyes, Field stood for a moment, stunned and silent. Then the need of instant action spurred him. "I must go--at once," he said. "You are all right now--You can get back? You've been drinking, haven't you?" "The major's health, sir--just a sup or two." "I've no time now to listen to how you came to be out here. I'll see you by and by." But still the young officer hesitated. One hand grasped the rein of his horse. He half turned to mount, then turned again. "Kennedy," he faltered, "you'd have been a dead man if we--if I--hadn't reached you at that moment." "I know it, sir," burst in Pat, impetuously. "I'll never forget it--" "Hush, Kennedy, you _must_ forget--forget that you saw--spoke with me--forget that you saw or heard--any other soul on earth out here to-night. Can you promise?" "I'll cut my tongue out before I ever spake the word that'll harm the lieutenant, or the--the--or any one he says, sir. But never will I forget! It ain't in me, sir." "Let it go at that then. Here, shake hands, Kennedy. Now, good-night!" Another instant and Field was in saddle and speeding away toward the post where lights were now dancing about the quartermaster's corral, and firefly lamps were flitting down the slope toward the stables on the flats. Ray's men were already up and doing. Slowly, stiffly following, Pat Kennedy rubbed his aching head, with a hand that shook as never did his resolution. His bewildered brain was puzzling over a weighty problem. "The lieutenant's safe all right," he muttered, "but what's gone wid the squaw that was shoutin' Sioux at that murdherin' buck?"