“Have I been dull before, Uncle Eph?” answered the girl, slipping her arm through his. “And I think this isn’t the first time I’ve had ‘only an old fogey to put up with.’”
“No, it isn’t. Well, young to young—that’s the rôle of Nature, and he is a fine young fellow that. I never saw a young ’un I took to so much.”
And old Ephraim Hesketh suddenly found himself being very much kissed.
Chapter Twelve.
Of a Fight.
“Rather different sort of country this—eh, Dick?”
“Yes. But the worst of it is there’s nothing to shoot.”
“There never is where there are Kafir locations,” rejoined Harley Greenoak.