(“Caw,” said the crow; “Thank you,” said Darcy and threw the bird a kiss.)
“—that a regiment is coming up from below. There’s the advance guard.”
She pointed down the sheer rock. Remsen moved across and looked over the edge. “That spider?” he inquired unimaginatively.
“He’s just pretending to be a spider. But he’s really a spy disguised as a spider. Now the question is, Shall I drop this bomb on him?”
She held a pebble above the toiling crawler. “War is hell,” observed Remsen lazily. “Why add to its horrors?”
“How far away it all seems!” said the girl dreamily. “Do you suppose, over there, it’s beautiful and peaceful like this hillside one day, and then the next—I guess I’ll let my spy spider live,” she broke off, dropping her chin in her hand.
Remsen sat down at her side.
“What’s your soldier man like?” he asked abruptly.
“What? Who?” inquired the startled Darcy. “Oh, Monty!” Gloria’s insufficient sketch came to her aid. “Why, he’s short and round and roly-poly.”
“Then I don’t give a very exact imitation of him, do I?”