“Are you not happy to see me, Euan?” she cooed close to my ear.

“Not here; inside that log curtain yonder.”

“But there is a dragon yonder,” she whispered, with mischief adorable in her sparkling eyes; then slipped hastily beyond my reach, saying: “Oh, Euan! Forget not our vows, but let our conduct remain seemly still, else I return.”

I had no choice, for we were now passing our inner pickets, where a line of bush-huts, widely set, circled the main camp. There were some few people wandering along this line — officers, servants, boatmen, soldiers off duty, one or two women.

Just within the lines there was a group of people from which a fiddle sounded; and I saw Boyd