"Well," said Allan politely, "first and last, a good many folk have settled hereabouts since Captain John Smith traded on the Chickahominy with the Indians. There's family graveyards all through these woods. I hope you'll like the country."
The other drank again of the brown water. "It wasn't so bad in the spring time. We thought it was awful lovely at first, all spangled with flowers and birds.—Are you married?"
"No."
"Neither am I. But I'm going to be, when I get back to where I belong. Her name's Flora."
"That's a pretty name."
"Yes, and she's pretty, too—" He half closed his eyes and smiled blissfully, then rose from the laurels. "Well, I must be trotting along, away from Cold Harbour. Funniest names! What does it mean?"
"It was an inn, long ago, where you got only cold fare. Shouldn't wonder if history isn't going to repeat itself—" He rose, also, tall and blonde. "Well, I must be travelling, too—"
"Rations getting pretty low, aren't they? How about coffee?"
"Oh, one day," said Allan, "we're going to drink a lot of it! No, I don't know that they are especially low."
The blue scout dipped a hand into his pocket. "Well, I've got a packet of it, and there's plenty more where that came from.—Catch, Reb!"