such another.
She's tall and slim, her hair is red,
Her face is plump and pretty.
She's my daisy Sunday best-day girl,
And her front name stands for Kitty."

And again as before the Fighting Forty howled truculently:

"Bung yer eye! bung yer eye!"

The words were vulgar, the air a mere minor chant. Yet Thorpe's mind was
stilled. His aroused subconsciousness had been engaged in reconstructing
these men entire as their songs voiced rudely the inner characteristics
of their beings. Now his spirit halted, finger on lip. Their bravery,
pride of caste, resource, bravado, boastfulness,--all these he had
checked off approvingly. Here now was the idea of the Mate. Somewhere
for each of them was a "Kitty," a "daisy Sunday best-day girl"; the
eternal feminine; the softer side; the tenderness, beauty, glory of even
so harsh a world as they were compelled to inhabit. At the present or
in the past these woods roisterers, this Fighting Forty, had known love.
Thorpe arose abruptly and turned at random into the forest. The song
pursued him as he went, but he heard only the clear sweet tones, not
the words. And yet even the words would have spelled to his awakened
sensibilities another idea,--would have symbolized however rudely,
companionship and the human delight of acting a part before a woman.

"I took her to a dance one night,
A mossback gave the bidding--
Silver Jack bossed the shebang,
and Big Dan played the fiddle.
We danced and drank the livelong night
With fights between the dancing,
Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch
And sent the mossbacks prancing."

And with the increasing war and turmoil of the quick water the last
shout of the Fighting Forty mingled faintly and was lost.

"Bung yer eye! bung yer eye!"

Thorpe found himself at the edge of the woods facing a little glade into
which streamed the radiance of a full moon.

Chapter XXXVIII

There he stood and looked silently, not understanding, not caring to
inquire. Across the way a white-throat was singing, clear, beautiful,
like the shadow of a dream. The girl stood listening.

Her small fair head was inclined ever so little sideways and her finger
was on her lips as though she wished to still the very hush of night, to
which impression the inclination of her supple body lent its grace. The
moonlight shone full upon her countenance. A little white face it was,
with wide clear eyes and a s