e do with any information, Mrs. MacLeod, supposing we gain
aught of value," returned Demere with some haughtiness, "except to use
it for the defense of the fort, and your own outlying station? Are we
here to wage war or to maintain peace?"

She was silent, a trifle mortified because of her own mortification to
be supposed a mere captive.

"Everybody else knows that you are the commanding officer at MacLeod's
Station," said Stuart in pretended consolation, only half smothering a
laugh.

"Besides," Demere argued, gravely, "you will never be able to convince
them of the facts. Of course you know I intend no disparagement to you
when I say they will believe that young soldier's rodomontade in
preference to your word--being women of such extreme ignorance."

"Why, the man ought to be gagged!" exclaimed Stuart, in delight at her
seriousness.

The color mounted to Odalie's cheek. She had but entered her twenties,
and despite her matronly arrogations she felt very young, now and then.
Notwithstanding her humble pioneer status, she retained much of the
aristocratic traditions inherited from her "Grand'maman"; she was
beginning to feel it a great liberty that the young orderly should have
expressed his admiration of her, although of course he was not aware
that it would be repeated. She objected that he should know that she
knew of it.

"I hope you will not acquaint him with the circumstances," she said,
stiffly.

"By no means," said Demere, appreciating her scruples. "That sort of
thing is beyond discipline. The men in a garrison will tell everything
they know or think they know."

Odalie sat for a moment longer. "I think," she said, recovering her
equanimity after a fashion, "that since I immediately placed the
information of this ludicrous _contretemps_ at your disposal, for
whatever you may make it worth, I should be promised exemption from the
kind of raillery--and jokes--which Captain Stuart--frequent mention of
chains, and bond-slave, and matrimonial noose and--such things," she
paused, rising and looking at Stuart, wistfully remonstrant, for she
could but notice how her chagrin ministered to his mischievous delight.

"How _can you_, Mrs. MacLeod!" he cried. "Captain 'Quawl' will have me
clapped into irons at the first offence! And this is the vaunted
tender-heartedness of women!"

Even Captain Demere joined in the laugh at her, only becoming grave to
insist that she should not, without notice to him, divulge