“Well, about two years ago, Mr. Morton comes up to his camp pretty late in the season and wants me to go huntin’ and fishin’ with him. It was kind o’ late for fish, and Mr. John is a queer hunter, he is. He would just watch the game, follow them up, maybe—but shoot? You can’t get him to kill anything. He has all the trophies he wanted, he said—and as long as we had grub there wasn’t no need of killing God’s creatures.
“He was quieter than usual, and he says to me that he wants me to go with him to Africa—doing some exploration work, some observing—and says he, ‘Don,’ he says, ‘you come with me and we’ll have a good time; you’ll learn some new things, see new kinds o’ game, and get fine experience; and I can do something I wanted to try for years.’ It was kind o’ sudden like, but I agreed. And so, the week after Christmas we went to London and Paris and from there to Egypt—and there we stuck out for nigh on twenty months. I ain’t seen snow in two years—’most forgot how real cold feels—and I’m mighty glad to get a taste of both once more! And to think that some ten days or so ago I was in the hottest part of the world—now, would you believe it?”
“Where was that, Mr. McCormick?”
“Why, bless your pretty face, Miss, in Egypt and the Red Sea. Hot?—two minutes of that climate, and there wouldn’t be a trace o’ this snow left!”
Helène could barely suppress showing her keen interest. Now, perhaps, would come what she had been longing to know. “And was it in Egypt that you met my father? Did Mr. Morton know my father very long?”
“I don’t know anything about that, Miss; Mr. John didn’t tell me much.”
“Then you and Mr. Morton—you are not officers or soldiers in our—the Roumelian Army?”
“Why, bless your hearts, miss, so far as I am concerned, I didn’t know such a place as Roumelia was on the map ten days ago; and it’s very little more that I know now! Mr. John, he came to me the night we got to Suez, saying I should get ready to take the midnight train, go to Brindisi and act under written orders—and I went. From there I took a train to Kronstadt; and four days ago I drove the teams down to Padina with the dagoes—that’s all I know. When Mr. Morton gives you orders you ain’t askin’ no useless questions, I guess. He knows what he wants—and you are supposed to go ahead and do what you’re told. But you needn’t worry, young ladies, there ain’t no better man living than Mr. John—and few have as level a head as he’s got!”
“You are a great admirer of your master, Mr. McCormick,” remarked the Princess, who till now had sat very quietly, quite willing to leave the conversation to her friend. It took her some time to become accustomed to the peculiar drawl of the lanky foreigner; but when once she caught the quaint humor of the man she enjoyed him greatly. She wondered also at the simple directness of his manner, which was deferential without being in the least subservient. This must be due to the democratic spirit of his country.
“I don’t know if it’s admiration, young lady, but I have learned that Mr. Morton knows what’s right. There isn’t a man anywheres that can teach him much! You can build on him and never get left. If he says a thing—it’s so; and if he stands up for you you’re all right. And then, he ain’t putting the load on the other fellow, either! When it comes to hard knocks, he takes his share—and takes it without a murmur. He is square, is Mr, John—and white all through! You can bet on that!”