“Go on, go on,” said Kitty.  “I’ll have something up myself on Mr. Cowles.” ("Don’t let him scare you, Jack,” she whispered to me aside.)

That was a foolish speech of hers, and a foolish act of mine.  But for my part, I continually found myself doing things I should not do.

Orme passed his cigarette case.  “In view of my possibly greater experience,” he said, “I’d allow Mr. Cowles six in the hundred.”

“I am not looking for matches,” said I, my blood kindling at his accustomed insolence; “but if I shot it would be both men at scratch.”

“Oh, very well,” smiled Orme.  “And should we make a little wager about it—­I ask your consent, Mrs. Stevenson?”

“America forever!” said Kitty.

What could I do after that?  But all at once I thought of my scanty purse and of the many troubles that beset me, and the strange unfitness in one of my present situation engaging in any such talk.  In spite of that, my stubborn blood had its way as usual.

“My war chest is light,” I answered, “as I am farther away from home than I had planned.  But you know my black horse, Mr. Orme, that you fancied?”

“Oh, by Jove!  I’ll stake you anything you like against him—­a thousand pounds, if you like.”

“The odds must be even,” I said, “and the only question is as to the worth of the horse.  That you may not think I overvalue him, however, make it half that sum, or less, if these gentlemen think the horse has not that value.”

“A son of old Klingwalla is worth three times that,” insisted Orme.  “If you don’t mind, and care to close it, we’ll shoot to-morrow, if Major Williams will arrange it.”

“Certainly,” said that gentleman.

“Very well,” I said.

“And we will be so discourteous to the stranger within our gates,” said the vivacious Kitty, “as to give you a jolly good beating, Captain Orme.  We’ll turn out the Post to see the match.  But now we must be making ready for the serious matters of the evening.  Mr. Orme, you dance, of course.  Are you a married man—­but what a question for me to ask—­of course you’re not!”

Orme smiled, showing his long, narrow teeth.  “I’ve been a bit busy for that,” he said; “but perhaps my time has come.”

“It surely has,” said Kitty Stevenson.  “I’ve offered to wager Mr. Cowles anything he liked that he’d be engaged before twelve o’clock.  Look, isn’t it nicely done?”

We now turned toward the big square of the Parade, which had by this time wholly been taken over for the purposes of military occupation.  A vast canopy covered the dancing floor.  Innumerable tents for refreshments and wide flapped marquees with chairs were springing up, men were placing the decorations of flags, and roping about the dancing floor with braided ribbons and post rosettes.  Throngs now filled the open spaces, and more carriages continually came.  The quarters of every officer by this time were packed, and a babel of chatter came from every balcony party.  Now and again breathed the soft music from the distant military bands.  It was a gay scene, one for youth and life, and not for melancholy.