"Loskiel," he said in my ear, "did you see that little maid in
the orchard, how shyly she smiled on us?"
"On you," I nodded, laughing.
"Oh, you always say that," he retorted.
And I always did say that, and it always pleased him.
"On this accursed journey south," he complained, "the necessity
for speed has spoiled our chances for any roadside sweethearts.
Lord! But it's been a long, dull trail," he added frankly. "Why,
look you, Loskiel, even in the wilderness somehow I always have
contrived to discover a sweetheart of some sort or other— yes, even
in the Iroquois country, cleared or bush, somehow or other, sooner
or later, I stumble on some pretty maid who flutters up in the very
wilderness like a partridge from under my feet!"
"That is your reputation," I remarked.
"Oh, damm
