Tall, alert, eager, the Captain entered the room in time to catch her words.
"A prophet of what and to whom, Miss Dent?" he asked, as he bowed over her outstretched hand.
"To Mr. Weldon, in regard to the future fighting," she answered gayly.
"You here, Weldon?"
"Yes, to say good by."
Captain Frazer nodded.
"I saw Mitchell, this morning. He spoke well of you; of Carew, too, for the matter of that. He told me your troop would be off in the morning, and asked me to diagnose your best points."
"Could you find any?" Weldon asked imperturbably. "A few. I told him you could sit tight and shoot straight," the Captain answered, laughing. Then he added gravely, "And I also told him you could ride the fiend incarnate, and that, as far as I knew, you didn't lose your head when you were under fire."
For the instant, Weldon forgot his hostess, as he looked up to meet the Captain's blue eyes squarely.
"Thank you. But it is more than I deserve."