THE EAGLE SOARS
Night and a running stream—a soft gurgle of sound that was like a lullaby. Within the tent the quiet breathing of a man asleep; standing in the entrance—a woman.
There was a faint quiver in the air as of something coming from afar, a hushed expectancy of something great. A chill breath came off the snows, hovering secretly above the ice-cold water. The stars glittered like loose-hung jewels upon a sable robe.
Ah, that flash as of a sword across the sky! A meteor had fallen among the mountains. It was almost like a signal in the heavens—herald of the coming wonder of the dawn.
Softly the watcher turned inwards, and at once a gay, cracked voice spoke out of the darkness.
"Hullo, darling! Up and watching already! Ye gods! What a sky! Why didn't you wake me sooner? Have I time for a plunge?"
"Perhaps—if you will let me help you dress after it. Certainly not otherwise." The deep voice had in it a tremulous note that was like a caress. The speaker was looking into the shadows. The glory without no longer held her.
"All right then, you shall—just for a treat. Perhaps you would like to shave me as well?"
"Shave you!" There was scorn this time in the answering voice. "You couldn't grow a single hair if you tried!"
"True, O Queen! I couldn't. And the few I was born with are invisible. Hence my failure to distinguish myself in the Army. It is to be hoped the deficiency will not blight my Parliamentary career also—always supposing I get there."