're bound to keep it, aren't you?" I suggested. "Government doesn't
want it to come out."

"That's the attitude at present. But when relations have been definitely
and permanently smoothed over between the United States and Mexico, it
won't so much matter except for March himself. In any case, _I_ shan't
let the cat out of the bag. I'm not such a blunderer! But I tell you
frankly, I can influence others to keep the secret after the time
limit's up--or I can refrain from using influence. Which shall it be? Is
it peace or war between us?"

I stopped to think for a moment, and then I answered, "It's an armed
truce."

We have all heard quite a lot about the mouse who saved a lion. But it
was only one mouse out of a world crammed full of mice. I never heard,
in the whole history of mice, since those which Cain and Abel maybe had
for pets, of another mouse capable of saving any animal whatever, even
itself. Still, there remains that one heroic and intelligent mouse. When
Sidney Vandyke had left me to "think things over," I envied it with
passion, feeling that I was not even of the mouse tribe. I felt more
like a fly, if you can imagine a fly cursed with a human heart, who
loves an eagle that has been shot in the wing and caged, and the cage
set down on the seashore when the night tide is coming in. What could
such a fly do but cling sadly to the cage and buzz and let the great
rush of water drown it with the eagle? Even that fly seemed more
fortunate than I was, as I pictured it to myself. For it was privileged
to rest on the eagle's cage. I could not be near my wounded eagle!

Five days after that awful Thursday night a letter from Di told me that
her engagement had "changed all her plans." "Sidney" was very impatient,
and wanted to be married soon. The moment his work was over at El Paso
he would get long leave, and possibly he might make up his mind to
resign from the army. That was what she wanted him to do; and when she
had him with her, she knew that she could persuade him, for he wasn't
really "very keen" on soldiering, and she _must_ live in England, at
least half the year round. This part was for the future to decide; but
in any case there would be the long leave. It would give time for the
wedding and the honeymoon. She had set her heart on being married at St.
George's, for it was the "historic" thing to do. And there was the
trousseau. Kitty Main _insisted_ on giving it to her for a wedding
present; which was