There was no change in Mrs. Bogardus's voice, unconcerned as it was; yet the colonel felt at once that this simple question lay at the root of all her previous skirmishing.
“The guide will decide as to that,” he said definitely. “If it is, he won't go out with them. They have got a good man, you say?”
“They are waiting for a good man; they have waited too long, I think. He is expected in with another party on Monday, perhaps, Paul is to meet the Bowens at Challis, where they buy their outfit. I do believe”—she laughed constrainedly—“that he is going up there more to head them off than for any other reason.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, it's very stupid of them! They seem to think an army post is part of the public domain. They have been threatening, if Paul gives up the trip, to come down here on a gratuitous visit.”
“Why, let them come by all means! The more the merrier! We will quarter them on the garrison at large.”
“Wherever they were quartered, they would be here all the time. They are not intimate friends of Paul's. Mrs. Bowen is—a very great friend. He is her right-hand in all that Hartley House work. The boys are just fashionable young men.”
“Can't they go hunting without Paul?”
“Wheels within wheels!” Mrs. Bogardus sighed impatiently. “Hunting trips are expensive, and—when young men are living on their fathers, it is convenient sometimes to have a third. However, Paul goes, I half believe, to prevent their making a descent upon us here.”
“Well; I should ask them to come, or make it plain they were not expected.”