They did not catch sight of the girl until Carlo sprang up barking furiously, and then they started back in consternation and surprise.
"Lie down, Carlo," Hansie commanded sharply. "Good morning," to the men.
"Good morning, miss," respectfully; "I hope we are not intrudin'."
"Certainly not. Are you catching butterflies? Show me what you have got."
The men produced their spoil with pride.
"Will you have some grapes?" Hansie asked, handing the basket to one of them, who helped himself gratefully and then passed it on to his comrade. The latter, evidently not of a very sociable disposition, took a bunch and walked off in pursuit of more butterflies.
The first soldier, however, squatted down on the ground at some little distance from the girl and began to talk, as he ate the grapes with great relish. At this point Carlo raised himself with the utmost deliberation, yawned, stretched himself, and sauntering (I cannot call it anything except sauntering) slowly towards his mistress, laid his full length on the ground between her and the Tommy. Then he went sound asleep to all appearances, but his mistress observed that when the soldier made the slightest movement, the dog's ears twitched or an eyelid quivered.
Slowly eating his grapes, the man glanced curiously at the book on Hansie's lap.
"Are you sketchin', miss?" he asked.
"No; writing."