"I shan't mind it in the least," replied James, inordinately happy; and he helped her to the saddle and adjusted the left stirrup.
So the journey home began. Strangely enough, neither seemed to care particularly what had or might become of Pirate. He disappeared, mentally and physically. One thing dampened the journey for Warburton. His "game leg" ached cruelly, and after the second mile (which was traversed without speech from either of them), he fell into a slight limp. From her seat above and behind him, she saw this limp.
"You have hurt yourself?" she asked gently.
"Not to-day, Miss,"—briefly.
"When he ran away with you?"
"No. It's an old trouble."
"While you were a soldier?"
"Yes."
"How?"
He turned in surprise. All these questions were rather unusual.
Nevertheless he answered her, and truthfully.