“Do I look very serious?” she faltered.

“Yes, you look as if troubled about something.  But there, see what an egotistic fellow I am!  As if you hadn’t troubles of your own! pretty deep ones, too, I fear.  Our coming here has given you a wonderful experience, Miss Baron.  No matter; you’ve met it like a soldier and will have much to remember in after years.  You can never become a commonplace woman now and there are such a lot of ’em in the world.  When I remember all you have done for us it makes me ill to think of some in our town—­giggling, silly little flirts, with no higher ambition than to strut down the street in a new dress.”

“Oh, don’t think of them or over-praise me.  Perhaps if they had been here and compelled to face things they would have done better than I. A short time ago I didn’t dream of these experiences, and then I would have said I couldn’t possibly endure them.”

“Well, you have,” resumed the captain, who was slightly feverish, excited and inclined to talk.  “One of my dearest hopes now is to get back to my little girl soon and deepen her mind by making her ashamed of the silly things in a girl’s life.  Of course I wish her to be joyous and happy as a young thing should be, as I think you would be if you had the chance.  By means of your story I can make her ashamed ever to indulge in those picayune, contemptible feminine traits which exasperate men.  I want her to be brave, helpful, sincere, like you, like her mother.  How quickly poor Yarry recognized the spirit in which you came among us at first!  Jove!  I didn’t think him capable of such feeling.  I tell you, Miss Baron, the roughest of us reverence an unselfish woman—­one who doesn’t think of herself first and always.  She mayn’t be a saint, but if she has heart enough for sympathy and is brave and simple enough to bestow it just as a cool spring gushes from the ground, we feel she is the woman God meant her to be.  Ah, uncle, that reminds me—­ another cup of that cold water.  For some reason I’m awfully thirsty this morning.”

Miss Lou listened with hands nervously clasping and unclasping, utterly at a loss to know how to tell the man, dreaming of home and planning for the future, that he must soon sleep beside poor Yarry.  She had already taken to herself the mournful comfort that his grave also should be where she could care for it and keep it green.

“I wish to tell you more about my little Sadie and my wife.  Some day, when this miserable war is over, you will visit us.  We’ll give you a reception then which may turn even your head.  Ha! ha! you thought we’d be worse than Indians.  Well, I’ll show you a lot of our squaws in full evening dress and you’ll own that my wife is the prettiest in the tribe.  Every day, until we started on this blasted raid, I received a letter from her.  I knew about as well what was going on at home as if there.  With my wife it was love almost at first sight, but I can tell you that it’s not ’out of sight out of mind’ with us.  Time merely adds to the pure, bright flame, and such a pair of lovers as we shall be when gray as badgers will be worth a journey to you.”