"We must get on," he said; and as they put their horses into a gallop he found himself admiring the way in which she handled the mount he had lent her, a high-spirited young chestnut, unaccustomed to a side-saddle, yet aware that liberties could not be taken with his present rider; Flint noted the strong turn of her wrist, the firmness of her long, slim foot in the stirrup, the poise of her straight young figure. It crossed his mind, but for her wild ideas what a wife she would make for a man whose life was all action; ready for emergencies and discomforts, willing to rough it, daring, unafraid. She ought to marry a colonial, go with him to Canada, Australia, his equal in physical endurance, and disregard of convention, yet mastered by his manhood, the mother of a string of strong children whether they could be educated highly or not! An unworthy temptation assailed him; as they arrived at an outstanding relief camp he helped her from her saddle with a bold tenderness that held an element of revenge, held her hand a little longer than was strictly necessary, looked into her fine grey eyes, of purpose intently. He could not tell if she recognised the unspoken signal; if she did she ignored it, and presently they were deep in the object of their expedition, tramping over hot, hard ground, watching the slow movements of the ragged crowd—women and children breaking up dry clumps of soil, carrying it on their heads in baskets; men and boys digging, scraping. It was like an ants' nest without the energy and diligence of those insects, for the workers were weak and apathetic, only looking forward, as was natural, to the distribution of food and money that was to follow.
Flint was on the look out for bullying among the overseers, for petty pilfering on the part of the distributors of supplies; he listened patiently to complaints, investigated grievances, and entirely forgot Miss Baker except when she asked questions or got in his way. She followed him for the most part silently, unobtrusively, and the morning was well advanced before it suddenly struck him that his companion must be feeling the need of refreshment. They were a long way from headquarters, far from any place of accommodation; the sun was overpowering; he noted that she looked tired and hot, he himself felt fagged. His inspection was not yet completed. Never mind, he could return this evening and finish it at the price of a little extra pressure and exertion.
He took out his watch. "Look here," he said penitently, "you must be pretty well done. Let us get back as quick as we can and have a good breakfast in my camp."
She hesitated; if he could have seen into her mind she was thinking of the kind of meal she might expect on her return to Miss Abigail's tents (boiled rice and pulse, and perhaps a stew that had seen service already). She was despising herself because the temptation was strong to accept the invitation, and not altogether on account of the better fare.
"Wouldn't it be proper for you to breakfast with me alone?" he asked provocatively.
"I wasn't thinking of that!" she exclaimed with scorn, and added, not quite honestly: "I was only wondering if Miss Abigail would be keeping breakfast waiting for me——" She knew perfectly well that Miss Abigail would not.
"She knows you are with me, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes——"
"Then why worry? Come along."
On their way back she asked him: "You do this kind of thing every day?"