abruptly, "If my security measures have failed, Joe, you'll be killed.
If there has been sabotage or carelessness, it will be my fault."

"I'm sure, sir, that everything anybody could do--"

"Everything anybody can do to destroy you has been done," said the major
grimly. "Not only sabotage, Joe, but blunders and mistakes and
stupidities. That always happens. But--I've done my best. I suspect I'm
asking your forgiveness if my best hasn't been good enough."

Then, before Joe could reply, the major went hurriedly away.

Joe frowned for a moment. It occurred to him that it must be pretty
tough to be responsible for the things that other men's lives depend
on--when you can't share their danger. But just then the smell of coffee
reached his nostrils. He trailed the scent. There was a coffeepot
steaming on the table in the dining-room. There was a note on a plate.

_Good luck. I'll see you in the Shed.

Sally_

Joe was relieved. Sally Holt had been somewhere around underfoot all
his life. She was a swell girl, but he was grateful that he didn't have
to talk to her just now.

He poured coffee and looked at his watch. He went to the window. The
faraway howling was much nearer, and dawn had definitely arrived. Small
cloudlets in a pale blue sky were tinted pinkish by the rising sun.
Patches of yucca and mesquite and sage out beyond the officers' quarters