A little silence fell between them.
“When does your battalion march?” she asked abruptly.
“Perhaps to-morrow. I don't know.”
“If you do go then,” she said, with again that little touch of shyness, “I suppose I won't see you again.”
“See you again,” exclaimed Barry, his tone indicating that the possibility of such a calamity was unthinkable, “why, of course I shall see you again. I must see you again—I—I—I just must see you again.”
“Good night, then,” she said in a soft, hurried voice, throwing in her clutch.
Barry stood listening in the dark to the hum of her engine, growing more faint every moment.
“Some girl, eh?” said a voice. At his side he saw Harry Hobbs. Barry turned sharply upon him.
“Now then, Hobbs, some wood and we will get a fire going and look lively! And, Hobbs, I believe there's a fence about fifty yards down there, which you might find useful. Now move. Quick!” Unconsciously he tried to reproduce, in uttering the last word, Duff's tone and manner. The effect was evident immediately.
Hobbs without further words departed in the darkness. Again Barry stood listening to the hum of the engine, until he could no longer hear it in the noise and confusion of the camp, but in his heart Harry's words made music.