"I know, and it was most gratifying,—not but that I feel sure you would have won without his aid. The old man simply couldn't quite be reconciled to her marrying in the army and living in Arizona."
"A strange land for a honey-moon certainly,—yet where and when was there a happier? Do you remember how the Apaches jumped the Verde buck-board the very week after we were married?"
"And you spent half of the honey-moon scouting the Tonto Basin? I should say so! What with a courtship in a robbers' cave, a marriage in a cavalry camp, and a wedding tour in saddle, you had a unique experience, Wing, but—you deserved her." And Drummond turns and grips his comrade's hand.
Wing is silent a moment. His eyes are wistfully searching the elder's half-averted face.
"Jim, you told me awhile ago of your sister's approaching marriage. Are you not going on?"
"Yes. It will be early in October. She's blissfully happy is Puss, and he's a very substantial, solid sort of a fellow. I'm well content, at last, that her future is assured."
"And you are a free agent, practically. Isn't it time we heard of your own happiness,—your own vine and fig-tree, old man?"
"Time's gone by, I reckon," laughs Drummond, yet not merrily. "I've had too much to think of,—too much responsibility, and probably have lost my chance."
Wing looks as though he wanted mightily to say something, but conquers his impulse.
"October is a long way off," he finally remarks, "and I thought you might find earlier opportunity of going East. Now that Ned has entire charge of the business in Arizona the old gentleman takes life easier. The winter in Cuba did him a lot of good, and Fan writes that he seems so happy now, having his two girls and his little grandson under the same roof with his sister and her children. What a reunion after all these years!"