A MODERN HORSE FAIR
They departed as they had entered, by way of the window, Dorothy lifted through it by her admiring Captain Lem, whose heart she had wholly won by her music the night before, and by the deference she paid to his talk. She was eager to find out the cause of all this excitement and placed herself alongside him, as he led off with a military tread and tensely squared shoulders. It wasn’t for him to admit that rheumatism commonly bowed those same shoulders, when he was “off duty” and secure in the shelter of his own room.
“Hep, hep, hep,—hep,” said the Captain marking time, and scowling at the irregular pace of the excited youngsters behind her. At which Dorothy promptly echoed his “Hep, hep, hep,” and the others took the hint, pairing off into a compact little company and following their leader like soldiers on parade.
Captain Lemuel smiled and nodded:
“Good, Little One! ’Tis you has the head of sense, and fingers for the fiddle bow. The boys are all just proud to have you up at S’ Leon, and anything you want done—say the word! All I want is to see you shoot well as you can fiddle. Ride, eh? Can you ride a horse, Little One?”
“My name is Dorothy, Captain Lemuel, and I can—a little. Helena, too, is fine on horseback. She’s the yellow-haired girl, you know. But why? What makes you ask?”
They had come across the grass as far as the end of the Barracks, and still drilling his “awkward squad,” the old ranchman wheeled about and ordered:
“Halt! About—face!”
Alfy giggled, but seeing the faces of all the rest, especially Dorothy’s, sober and set in imitation of the Captain’s, she stopped laughing and applied herself to the business in hand.
“Hep, hep, hep—March!”