And the girl's blue eyes
had laughed up into the eyes of the stranger just exactly as, two
short weeks before, they had laughed up into his own. Then the
little gray broncho jumped cornerwise, and Weldon had difficulty in
impressing upon her that handsprings were not an approved form of
cavalry tactics. Nevertheless, he did it with a word of apology. For
the moment, the broncho was not wholly responsible for her return to
evil ways.
Over their breakfast, next morning, his five tentmates fell to
catechising him as to his pensive mood, and their catechism was
largely intermingled with chaff.
"Paddy's compliments, and roll up for your tucker," the mess orderly
proclaimed, as he came into the tent, brandishing a coffee pot in
one hand, the frying pan in the other.
Fork in hand, Carew nevertheless paused to take exception to the
word.
"I confess I can't see why Tucker, when it is supposed to untuck the
creases of us," he observed. "Hermit, shall I serve you in the
corner; or will you deign to join us about the festive frying pan?"
"What's the matter with Weldon, anyhow?" another of the group
queried, as dispassionately as if the subject of discussion had been
absent in Rhodesia.
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