There had been, as was said, some kind of conference during the late afternoon. The colonel, the post surgeon, two or three wise-heads among the field and senior line officers and that indispensable adjutant. There had come quite late an aide-de-camp of the department commander, who had been at Wister and at some investigation over at the Minneconjou agency, who had something to say concerning the state of mind in which he found Captain Foster, which was bad; the state of mind in which he found the redmen--which was worse; and finally the state of things on both sides of the stream at Minneconjou--which was worst of all. Foster's rancor against Ray was venomous as ever, and he claimed to have new evidence, the mention of which made both Stone and the surgeon look grave. The agent's worry as to his turbulent charges was doubled by new events, and he demanded immediate aid. The post guard reports and the ranch-keeper's defiance told all too vividly how the devil had triumphed at Minneconjou. The colonel, the chaplain, the commissioned force, were helpless against the Act of Congress that had taken away their best hold on the men and turned the men over to the enemy. The situation, so far as Skid and his saloon and satellites were concerned, was past praying for. But there were "some things, thank God," said Stone, in which he could still strike for the good name of his garrison. Foster's new evidence should be investigated, said he, and as for the agent, he should have his guard, and a strong one, forthwith. "How did you leave Mrs. Ray, doctor?" he asked his medical man and next-door neighbor on the left, as Waring came tramping home soon after taps. "Resting quietly, colonel. She will do very well to-morrow." Stone had come down to the gate to meet him. One glance he threw to the right and left, then lowered his voice. "Any reason why Sandy shouldn't go in command of a guard to the agency in the morning?" "No reason why he shouldn't, sir, and--several why he should." CHAPTER XXIII A WELCOME PERIL "For such light duty as he may be able to perform," read the order that had brought Sandy Ray to Minneconjou. First it was the Canteen, and under the young officer's zealous management that fiercely assailed and finally abolished institution had been a credit to the post and a comfort to the men. It was not the duty Ray best loved, by any means, but, being debarred by his wound from active exercise, compelled as yet to ride slowly and with caution, he had thankfully accepted and thoroughly performed it. Then had come his serious trouble, and then, when, had he known the stories in circulation, he should have remained to face them, he was ordered away, leaving, like Sir Peter Teazle, his character behind him.