Olcott broke into a grim smile.
"One would imagine so, from what I heard of the matter. An army of savages with flintlocks took the bush on the other side; there were about two dozen colored Mohammedan soldiers, a white lieutenant, carried in a hammock because he was too ill to walk, and a civil officer who wasn't authorized to fight, to carry out the reforms. Though it didn't look encouraging at the start, they were effected."
"Ah," said Ethel, "one could be proud of things like that! After all, Mr. Murray's philosopher may be right. It's cheering to find a man ready to put his belief in justice to the test."
"There's one," said Olcott, indicating Andrew. "I shouldn't wonder if it costs him something."
The group broke up and some time later Andrew walked home with Ethel. The distance was not great, the road was dry, and a half moon threw down a silvery light. Thin mist filled the hollows, the murmur of the river rose from a deep valley, and the air was soft.
"It's very open weather," Ethel remarked. "I suppose it's different in Canada?"
"In the part I'm best acquainted with the thermometer is now registering forty degrees below zero, and it would need a charge of dynamite to break the ice on the lakes."
"Prospecting must be stern work," said Ethel speculatively. "It's curious that you haven't thought it worth while to give me an account of your adventures. Won't you do so?"
"Well, you mustn't blame me if you find them tedious. As a matter of fact, I haven't said much about them to anybody yet."
He began with a few rather involved explanations, but his style became clearer as he followed up the main thread of the tale, and Ethel listened with close interest.