Menard crossed to the hospital. Two privates barred the door, and he was forced to wait until a young Lieutenant of the regulars appeared. The lanterns over the door threw a dim light on the Captain as he stood on the low step. "What is it?" asked the Lieutenant. "You wished to see me?" "I am Captain Menard. What is the trouble?" The Lieutenant looked doubtfully at the dingy, bearded figure, then he motioned the soldiers aside. "It is Captain la Grange," he said, when Menard had entered; "he has been killed." The Lieutenant spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, but his eyes were shining and he was breathing rapidly. Menard looked at him for a moment without a word, then he stepped to the door of a back room and looked in. Three flickering candles stood on a low table, and another on a chair at the head of the narrow bed. The light wavered over the log and plaster walls. A surgeon was bending over the bed, his assistant waiting at his elbow with instruments; the two shut off the upper part of the bed from Menard's view. The Lieutenant stood behind the Captain, looking over his shoulder; both were motionless. There was no sound save a low word at intervals between the two surgeons, and the creak of a bore-worm that sounded distinctly from a log in the wall. Menard turned away and walked back to the outer door, the Lieutenant with him. There they stood, silent, as men are who have been brought suddenly face to face with death. At last the Lieutenant began to speak in a subdued voice. "We only know that it was an Indian. He has been scalped." "Oh!" muttered Menard. "I think he is still breathing,--he was just before you came,--but there is no hope for him. He was stabbed in a dozen places. It was some time before we knew--the Indian came in by the window, and must have found him asleep. There was no struggle." They stood again without speaking, and again the Lieutenant broke the silence. "It is too bad. He was a good fellow." He paused, as if searching for a kind word for Captain la Grange. "He was the best shot at the fort when he--when--" "Yes," said Menard. He too wished to speak no harsh word. "Is there anything I can do?" "I think not. There is a strong guard about the fort, but I think the Indian had escaped before we learned of it. I will see you before we take further steps." "Very well. I shall be at my quarters. Good-night." "Good-night." Menard walked slowly back across the enclosure. At the door of his hut he paused, and for a long time he stood there, looking up at the quiet sky. His mind was scattered for the moment; he could not think clearly. He opened his door and stepped over the log threshold, letting the door close after him of its own weight. The hut was dark, with but a square of dim light at the window. He fumbled for the candle and struck a light.