world that swept in gentle undulations northward, rising horizonward as the sea seems to lift, denying at last by a sharp-drawn line the further projection of human vision. Dan had spoken of a military post not far away, probably twenty or thirty miles. No doubt the broad hall, with its great fireplace at the end, had heard the jingle of military spurs many a time; had echoed laughter and the swing of dancing feet.
Barrett could picture slim-waisted, brown-skinned cavalry officers dismounting at the gate. He knew the type, eager for life's next moment, let it bring dance or death. He sighed. Even the interest on sixty thousand dollars.
"I told you to sleep late," said Alma, appearing in the door, fresh-washed by the morning, serene in her youthful comeliness as the placid repose of her natal plain.
"I'm used to getting up early," Barrett returned.
"I don't see why you didn't stay in the navy," she said, a bit fretfully he thought, as if she had considered his foolish adventure into that country all night and had risen confirmed in her opinion that it was no place for him. Barrett did not attempt an immediate reply. He watched her as she fastened a white rosebud in her hair just over her ear.
"Maybe," said he at last, detached, his mind a long distance from the navy.
"Just think of the disadvantage a red-head's under!" she laughed. "No flower that grows but a white one will do for such hair, while a blonde or a brunette has the whole garden to choose from."
