lue to the rank of his companion.

"It is," he answered briefly.

"Miss Dent has spoken of you. In fact, we were together at Maitland
Camp, last week, when you tried issues with the little gray
broncho."

As he spoke, he moved slightly, and the light fell full upon his
yellow hair and on his blue eyes, dark and fringed with long black
lashes. Weldon looked up at him with a smile of recognition.

"It is Captain Frazer, then?"

"Yes. I am congratulating you on having won your way into Miss
Dent's good graces. She tells me you were most thoughtful for her,
all the way out."

"You have known Miss Dent for a long time?" Weldon queried.

Captain Frazer answered the question as frankly as it was asked. For
the moment, they were man and man. In a moment more, they could
resume their formal relations of captain and soldier.

"I knew her well in England. We met at one or two house parties, a
year ago last fall. I was at her coming-out function, too." Then he
rose. "I shall see you again," he added formally. "Now I wish to
make my round of the guards." And, turning, he went striding away
towards his own quarters in the vestry.

Weldon looked after him thoughtfully. Then he uttered terse
judgment.

"Carew, that's a man," he said.

"Quite likely," Carew assented. "Women don't usually wear khaki.
Shall we go in search of Paddy?"

They found him smoking tranquilly by the churchyard gate. The old
stone wall towering above his head made good shelter from the
drizzle; and Paddy, his day's labor done, was leaning back at his
ease, exchanging adverse compliments with the half-dozen sentries
who patrolled the wall. He hailed Weldon with cordiality.

"Come along here, little Canuck," he called. "There's room for the
two of us and fine smoking. Mr. Carew can stay out in the rain. It's
worth his while, even then, for the sake of watching that pigeon-toed
cockney in the oilskins, him as is stubbing his toes in the
sand, this blessed minute."

"Shut up, Paddy," his victim retorted hotly.

"It's you that should shut up and teach the toes of you to walk
hushlike. If you go on like this, you living watchman's rattle, the
Boers can hear you, clear up in the Transvaal. Tell me, little one,
have you seen your captain yet?"

"Captain Frazer?"

"Yes, Captain Leo Frazer, sure as you're a trooper of C. Squadron.
You're in luck, boy. There's not a better soldier nor a finer
Christian, this side the line. Neptune must have give him a