“Pandora, darling,” he said, “you know that I was to get my leg to-morrow, and that we were to be married within the month?”
“Well! Won’t we? Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong! Why, my dear, I have just received from the War Department orders to accompany the expedition against the Pottawatomies. I start to-morrow for Fort Gibson.”
“How can you ride, with only one leg?”
“I am to command the Commissary Department. I shall have to ride in an ambulance. This is the fault of that accursed Smith. Why didn’t he and Belcher let the Indians alone?”
“And we can’t be married, then, until you return?”
“I don’t see how. Isn’t it outrageous? I have the worst luck of any man in the army.”
Pandora looked as if she were going to cry.
“And your leg? Won’t you get that until you come back?”
“Yes, dear, I will take it out of the Museum this evening, and you can amuse yourself throwing it upon the canvas while I am gone.”