I went down to the gate, and, unbarring it, gave him my hand and led the horse within the inclosure.
“Thou careful man!” he said, with a laugh, as he dismounted. “Who else, think you, in this or any other hundred, now bars his gate when the sun goes down?”
“It is my sunset gun,” I answered briefly, fastening his horse as I spoke.
He put his arm about my shoulder, for we were old friends, and together we went up the green bank to the house, and, when I had brought him a pipe, sat down side by side upon the doorstep.
“Of what were you dreaming?” he asked presently, when we had made for ourselves a great cloud of smoke. “I called you twice.”
“I was wishing for Dale’s times and Dale’s laws.”
He laughed, and touched my knee with his hand, white and smooth as a woman’s, and with a green jewel upon the forefinger.
“Thou Mars incarnate!” he cried. “Thou first, last, and in the meantime soldier! Why, what wilt thou do when thou gettest to heaven? Make it too hot to hold thee? or take out letters of marque against the Enemy?”
“I am not there yet,” I said dryly. “In the meantime I would like a commission against—your relatives.”
He laughed, then sighed, and sinking his chin into his hand and softly tapping his foot against the ground, fell into a reverie.