“It’s time you both came again,” suggested the Britisher. “The war’s over.”
“Is it, I wonder?” said Bob with sudden misgivings.
Alan gave him an exasperated glance. “Are you going to beg in again, you trouble-hunter?” he demanded. “Will you believe it, Captain Eaton, I had no sooner got my feet unfrozen, up in that beastly Arctic hole, than this bally cousin of mine began asking me questions about the organization of the enemy and who was leading them. As though I wasn’t fed-up enough with Bolshies not to discuss them in my leisure hours.“
“He’s always like that,” said Larry, laughing. “You think you have a peaceful moment only to find he’s discovered some horrid mission and embarked on it. He has a future before him—I don’t deny that. But we’ll have the easier time of it.”
“You have a right to speak feelingly, Larry,” said Bob, smiling. “You’ve been my rescuer more than once.”
Bob was growing light-hearted, except for his moments of doubt and uncertainty. His leg was really better to-day. Larry and Alan were getting on together as well as he had prophesied, and he foresaw a pleasant fireside for Larry at Highland House during his year in England.
Larry Stood With Lucy by the Door
They approached the woodcutter’s clearing and came to the spring, which still bubbled clear, though a thin film of ice clung to the edges of the stone. Bob bent over the basin, watching the water spurt up endlessly from the sandy bottom, where grains of sand danced in the rapid stream and green mosses stirred their delicate tendrils. Larry stood with Lucy by the door of the rustic shed. From the cottage chimney rose a waving white smoke-column.
“Hello, who’s that?” he asked, pointing.