“No, you are in good time, but I think we should start now. Where is Lieutenant Wingate? I have not seen him since we reached the hotel.”
“Some one said he was seen trying to borrow a hat from the chef to wear to supper,” answered a male voice.
“That is the army spirit of freedom,” nodded Grace. “Incidentally it is like Lieutenant Wingate. He lost his hat on the way in, and the wagon that carried most of our wearing apparel lies at the bottom of a canyon. We will be going. If you ladies and gentlemen care to visit our camp we shall be glad to have you do so to-morrow,” added Grace courteously, turning to the guests to whom she had been telling war stories.
“Here comes the lieutenant,” informed the man who had told Grace where he had last seen Hippy. The lieutenant wore a derby hat, a full size too small for him, and this, crowning his army uniform, made him look ridiculous.
A laugh greeted his appearance.
Hippy’s face wore a severe expression. He offered his arm to Miss Cartwright with grace and dignity. At least that was what he intended it to be, but Grace thanked the kind fates that Emma Dean was not present to express her opinion of Hippy’s appearance before all the guests of the hotel.
“Have you decided to remain with us to-night, General?” asked Grace.
“Mrs. Gordon and myself and Miss Cartwright will accept your hospitality, if you are certain that we shall not be crowding you.”
“There is plenty of room in the mountains,” answered Grace with a wave of the hand. “You are used to campaigning, General, but I hope the ladies will not regret their decision.”
They assured Grace that they would not; so the party started out full of anticipation for the new experience that lay before them.