Scarlet with his exertions, grimly aware that his sleeve was pulled
from its armhole and his left puttie was strained out of its usual
compact folds, nevertheless Weldon saluted her smilingly and, his
mount well in hand, galloped off in search of his squadron. That
night, however, his clear baritone voice was missing from the usual
chorus about the camp fire; and, as he thoughtfully drained his tin
billy of coffee, next morning, he was revolving in mind the relative
merits of his banker and a dead mother-in-law, as excuses for
demanding a pass to town, that afternoon.
However, afternoon found him moodily riding about the camp. His body
was on a subdued gray broncho; his mind was solely upon Ethel and
her companion. He liked the girl for herself, as well as for the
fact that, in this remote corner of the world, she represented the
sole bit of feminine companionship which is the rightful heritage of
every son of Eve. True, there was Miss Arthur; but Miss Arthur was
antediluvian. Under these conditions, it was galling to Weldon to
see Ethel absorbed by a comrade who, he frankly admitted to himself,
was far the more personable man of the two.
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