Miss Farrar laughed evasively.
"Maybe because I am from New York, too," she said. "Perhaps I wanted to see soldiers from my city take a prisoner."
They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier. On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern.
"When I got to the turn," he began, breathlessly, "I couldn't see him. Where did he go? Did he double back through the woods, or did he have time to ride out of sight before I got there?"
The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He sprang to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Get back," he snarled. "Do what I told you!"
Under his breath he muttered words that, to Miss Farrar, were unintelligible. The little rat-like man nodded, and ran from them down the road. The sergeant made an awkward gesture of apology.
"Excuse me, lady," he begged, "but it makes me hot when them rookies won't obey orders. You see," he ran on glibly, "I'm a reg'lar; served three years in the Philippines, and I can't get used to not having my men do what I say."
Miss Farrar nodded, and started toward the house. The sergeant sprang quickly across the road.
"Have you ever been in the Philippines, Miss?" he called. "It's a great country."