A Soldier of the Legion

A Soldier of the Legion, by

C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: A Soldier of the Legion
Author: C. N. Williamson A. M. Williamson
Release Date: March 14, 2007 [EBook #20815]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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A Soldier of the Legion
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LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA
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SET IN SILVER

A Soldier of the Legion
BY C.N. & A.M. Williamson
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO. 1914

Copyright, 1914, by
C.N. & A.M. WILLIAMSON
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian

TO THE LEGION

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Telegram 3
II. The Blow 15
III. The Last Act of "Girls' Love" 34
IV. The Upper Berth 45
V. The Night of Storms 58
VI. The News 71
VII. Sir Knight 80
VIII. On the Station Platform 95
IX. The Colonel of the Legion 106
X. The Voice of the Legion 117
XI. Four Eyes 132
XII. No. 1033 143
XIII. The Agha's Rose 148
XIV. Two on the Roof 163
XV. The Secret Link 173
XVI. The Beetle 189
XVII. The Mission 203
XVIII. Gone 223
XIX. What Happened at Dawn 228
XX. The Beauty Doctor 242
XXI. The Eleventh Hour 254
XXII. The Heart of Max 263
XXIII. "Where the Strange Roads Go Down" 278
XXIV. The Mad Music 285
XXV. Corporal St. George, Deserter 294
XXVI. Sanda's Wedding Night 302
XXVII. The Only Friend 317
XXVIII. Sanda Speaks 332
XXIX. Out of the Dream, a Plan 346
XXX. The Play of Cross Purposes 351
XXXI. The Gift 368

A Soldier of the Legion
CHAPTER I
THE TELEGRAM
It was the great ball of the season at Fort Ellsworth. For a special reason it had begun unusually late; but, though the eighth dance was on, the great event of the evening had not happened yet. Until that should happen, the rest, charming though it might be, was a mere curtain-raiser to keep men amused before the first act of the play.
The band of the --th was playing the "Merry Widow" waltz, still a favourite at the fort, and only one of the officers was not dancing. All the others--young, middle-aged, and even elderly--were gliding more or less gracefully, more or less happily, over the waxed floor of the big, white-walled, flag-draped hall where Fort Ellsworth had its concerts, theatricals, small hops, and big balls. Encircled by their uniformed arms were the wives and sisters of brother officers, ladies whom they saw every day, or girls from the adjacent town of Omallaha, whom they could see nearly every day if they took the trouble. Some of the girls were pretty and pleasant. They all danced well, and wore their newest frocks from Chicago, New York, and even, in certain brilliant cases, from Paris. But--there was a heart-breaking "but". Each army woman, each visiting girl from Omallaha knew that at any minute her star might be eclipsed, put out, as the stars at dawn are extinguished by the rising sun. Each one knew, too, that the sun must be at the brink of the horizon, because it was half-past eleven, and it took more than twenty minutes to motor to Ellsworth from Omallaha. Besides, Max Doran, who used to love the "Merry Widow" waltz, was not dancing. He stood near the door pretending to talk to an old man who had chaperoned a daughter from town to the ball; but in reality he was lying in wait, ready to pounce.
It was a wonder that he hadn't gone to meet her; but perhaps she had refused his escort. A more effective entrance might be made by a dazzling vision alone (the "stage aunt" did not count) than with a man, even the show young man of the garrison.
The show young man talked jerkily about the weather, with his eyes on the door. They were laughing eyes of a brilliant blue, and accounted for a good deal where girls were concerned; but not all. There were other things--other advantages he had, which made it seem quite remarkable that a rather dull Western fort like Ellsworth should possess him. His family was high up in the "Four Hundred" in New York. He had as much money as, with all his boyish extravagances and wild generosity, he knew what to do with. He was exceedingly good to look at, in the dark, thin, curiously Latin style to which he seemed to have no right. He was a rather popular hero in the --th, for his polo, a sport which