I believed I was
there in plenty of time. Then you came rattling down the hill, with an
officer riding along beside you, and, of course, I mistook you for
Billie. I jumped your outfit in the hollow."

She flung up her hands in expressive gesture.

"Were you hanging there all that time--even before the lieutenant left?"

"I certainly was; hanging on for dear life too. My limbs are black and
blue. I never saw a pony travel like that little devil."

She burst into an unrestrained ripple of laughter, scarcely able to
speak, as the full humor of the situation appealed to her. No doubt the
expression of my face did its part, but she certainly found it most
amusing. In spite of myself I had to smile in sympathy.

"Oh, that was too good; I shall have to tell the general. Well, I helped
Billie Hardy out that time, didn't I? I reckon you don't see much fun in
it though."

"No, I don't," frankly, "yet I cannot say I am entirely sorry."

"Indeed," sobering instantly because of my earnestness. "I cannot
understand that--the despatches have gone through."

"Without doubt. From a military standpoint I surely regret my failure.
But if I had intercepted Billie I should never have met you."

"Oh!"

"Nor come to know you."

Again the girl laughed, and I noticed the dimple in her cheek, the
gray-blue eyes glancing up at me mockingly.

"Don't flatter yourself that you do," she retorted pleasantly, "for you
might be mistaken altogether."

CHAPTER V

ACQUAINTANCES, NOT FRIENDS

The manner in which this was uttered made me feel that she was in
earnest. Indeed I was already beginning to realize that this young woman
was an enigma, her moods changing so rapidly as to keep me in a state of
constant bewilderment--one moment frank, outspoken, friendly; the next
hiding her real self behind a barrier of cold reserve which I seemed
helpless to penetrate. Yet this very changeableness was attractive,
keeping my mind constantly on the alert, and yielding her a peculiar
charm. As she spoke these words her eyes encountered mine, almost in
challenge, which I met instantly.

"Perhaps not--but I shall."

"Oh, indeed! Is this conceit, or determination?"

"The latter assuredly. Why is it not possible for one to know you?"

"Really I cannot tell," not altogether displeased at my decision, "yet
it would border upon a miracle, for I do not even know myself. Besides I
doubt your having the opportunity for sufficient study--that is
Jones