Hemming stared, unable to conceal his amazement.
"I have not always lived in Pernamba," laughed Scott, "I have dined more than once at your mess. Fact is, I was at one time surgeon in the Sixty-Second."
"You are a dry one, certainly," said Hemming.
"It is unkind of you to remind me of it when the nearest bottle of soda is at least three miles away, and very likely warm at that," retorted the doctor. Hemming leaned forward in his saddle and grasped his hand.
"I will not take your advice," he said, "but it was kind of you to give it. Forgive me for mentioning it, Scott, but you are a dashed good sort."
"Man," cried the other, "didn't I tell you that I am hiding my head?" He slapped the white stallion smartly on the rump, and Hemming went up the trail at a canter.
CHAPTER VIII.
CAPTAIN SANTOSA VISITS HIS SUPERIOR OFFICER
Hemming got back to the village in time to change and dine with the family. The President's mind was otherwhere than at the table. He would look about the room, staring at the shadows beyond the candle-light, as if seeking something. He pushed the claret past him, and ordered rye whiskey. His kind face showed lines unknown to it a month before. Mrs. Tetson watched him anxiously. Marion and the commander-in-chief talked together like well-tried comrades, laughing sometimes, but for the most part serious. Marion was paler than of old, but none the less beautiful for that. Her eyes were brighter, with a light that seemed to burn far back in them, steady and tender. Her lips were ever on the verge of smiling. Hemming told her all of his interview with the peasant woman, and part of his interview with Scott.
"There will be trouble soon," he said.