"Yes; very strange. He was a daredevil, if there ever was one."
"Ah!"
"Yes; best bump of location in the regiment, and the steadiest nerve,"—dropping his voice.
The girl leaned on her lovely arms and observed him interestedly.
"A whole company got lost in a snowstorm one winter. You know that on the prairie a snowstorm means that only a compass can tell you where you are; and there wasn't one in the troop,—a bad piece of carelessness on the captain's part. Well, this cub said he'd find the way back, and the captain wisely let him take the boys in hand."
"Go on," said the girl.
"Interested, eh?"
"I am a soldier's daughter, and I love the recital of brave deeds."
"Well, he did it. Four hours later they were being thawed out in the barracks kitchens. Another hour and not one of them would have lived to tell the tale. The whisky they poured into my cub—"
"Did he drink?" she interrupted.