“I mean nothing of the kind,” was the reply, “but I recommend you to lose no time in dressing and turning out.  The men are already on parade, and if Captain Headley, finding that you are absent, tends over here to inquire the cause, I would not give much for your future chances of swallowing whisky-punch within the walls of Chicago.”

“Eh? what! what!” spluttered the surgeon, as he jumped up, drew on his boots, dipped his face in a basin of water, and hastily completed his toilet.  In less than five minutes he was on parade.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Elmsley, after giving this warning, had passed again through the mess-room, and knocked at Ronayne’s door.  But there was no answer.

“Hilloa, Ronayne,” he called loudly, as he turned the handle of the latch, “are you in bed too?”

But no Ronayne was there.  He looked at the bed—­like the doctor’s, it had been laid upon, but no one had been within the clothes.

What was the meaning of this?  After a few moments of delay, he flew back to Von Vottenberg’s room, but the latter was already gone.  Retracing his steps, he met Ronayne’s servant entering at the mess-room door.

“Where is your master?” he inquired.  “How is it that he is not in his room—­has not been in bed?”

“Not been in bed?” repeated the lad, with surprise.  “Why, sir, he told me last night that he was very drowsy and should lie late; and, that he mightn’t be disturbed, he desired me to sleep in one of the block-houses.  I was only to wake him in time for guard-mounting, and as it wants but ten minutes to that, I am just come to call him.”

“Clean out the mess-room directly—­open the windows, and pat every thing in order,” said the lieutenant, fearing that Captain Headley might, on hearing of the absence of the young officer, pay his quarters a visit in search of some clue to the cause.  “I see it all,” he mused, as he moved across the parade-ground.  “He would not, generous fellow, get me into a scrape, by making me privy to his design, and to avoid the difficulty of the gate, has got over the pickets somewhere—­yet, if so, he must have had a rope, and assistance of some kind, for he never could have crossed them without.  Yet, where can he be gone, and what could he have expected to result from his mad scheme?  Had he waited until now, he would have known by the arrival of the fishing-party with their sad charge, how utterly useless was all this risk.”

“Well, Mr. Elmsley,” said the captain, who now appeared at the front of his own door, fully dressed for parade, and preparing to issue forth in all the stateliness of command.

“The parade is formed, sir,” remarked the lieutenant, confusedly, “but I cannot find the officer of the guard.”

“Sir!” exclaimed Captain Headley.

“I cannot find Mr. Ronayne, sir—­I have myself been over to his quarters, and looked into his bed-room, but it is clear that he has not been in bed all night.”