The preoccupation of duty, exercise, and perhaps, above all, the keen stimulus of the iodine-laden salt air seemed to clear his mind and invigorate his body.He had never been in the Marsh before, and enjoyed its novelty with the zest of youth.It was the hour when the tide of its feathered life was at its flood.Clouds of duck and teal passing from the fresh water of the river to the salt pools of the marshes perpetually swept his path with flying shadows; at times it seemed as if even the uncertain ground around him itself arose and sped away on dusky wings.The vicinity of hidden pools and sloughs was betrayed by startled splashings; a few paces from their marching feet arose the sunlit pinions of a swan.The air was filled with multitudinous small cries and pipings.In this vocal confusion it was some minutes before he recognized the voice of one of his out-flankers calling to the other.
An important discovery had been made.In a long tongue of bushes that ran down to the Marsh they had found a mud-stained uniform, complete even to the cap, bearing the initial of the deserter's company.
"Is there any hut or cabin hereabouts, Schmidt?" asked Calvert.
"Dot vos schoost it, Lefdennun," replied his corporal."Dot vos de shanty from der Kingvisher--old Gulbebber.I pet a dollar, py shimminy, dot der men haf der gekommt."He pointed through the brake to a long, low building that now raised itself, white in the sunlight, above the many blackened piles.Calvert saw in a single reconnoitring glance that it had but one approach--the flight of steps from the Marsh.Instructing his men to fall in on the outer edge of the brake and await his orders, he quickly made his way across the space and ascended the steps.Passing along the gallery he knocked at the front door.There was no response.He repeated his knock.Then the window beside it opened suddenly, and he was confronted with the double- muzzle of a long ducking-gun.Glancing instinctively along the barrels, he saw at their other extremity the bright eyes, brilliant color, and small set mouth of a remarkably handsome girl.It was the fact, and to the credit of his training, that he paid more attention to the eyes than to the challenge of the shining tubes before him.
"Jest stop where you are--will you!" said the girl determinedly.
Calvert's face betrayed not the slightest terror or surprise.Immovable as on parade, he carried his white gloved hand to his cap, and said gently, "With pleasure.""Oh yes," said the girl quickly; "but if you move a step I'll jest blow you and your gloves offer that railin' inter the Marsh.""I trust not," returned Calvert, smiling."And why?""Because it would deprive me of the pleasure of a few moments' conversation with you--and I've only one pair of gloves with me."He was still watching her beautiful eyes--respectfully, admiringly, and strategically.For he was quite convinced that if he DID move she would certainly discharge one or both barrels at him.
"Where's the rest of you?" she continued sharply.
"About three hundred yards away, in the covert, not near enough to trouble you.""Will they come here?" "I trust not."
"You trust not?" she repeated scornfully."Why? "Because they would be disobeying orders."She lowered her gun slightly, but kept her black brows levelled at him."I reckon I'm a match for YOU," she said, with a slightly contemptuous glance at his slight figure, and opened the door.For a moment they stood looking at each other.He saw, besides the handsome face and eyes that had charmed him, a tall slim figure, made broader across the shoulders by an open pea-jacket that showed a man's red flannel shirt belted at the waist over a blue skirt, with the collar knotted by a sailor's black handkerchief, and turned back over a pretty though sunburnt throat.She saw a rather undersized young fellow in a jaunty undress uniform, scant of gold braid, and bearing only the single gold shoulder-bars of his rank, but scrupulously neat and well fitting.Light-colored hair cropped close, the smallest of light moustaches, clear and penetrating blue eyes, and a few freckles completed a picture that did not prepossess her.She was therefore the more inclined to resent the perfect ease and self-possession with which the stranger carried off these manifest defects before her.
She laid aside the gun, put her hands deep in the pockets of her pea- jacket, and, slightly squaring her shoulders, said curtly, "What do you want?""A very little information, which I trust it will not trouble you to give me.My men have just discovered the uniform belonging to a deserter from the Fort lying in the bushes yonder.Can you give me the slightest idea how it came there?""What right have you trapseing over our property?" she said, turning upon him sharply, with a slight paling of color.
"None whatever."
"Then what did you come for?"
"To ask that permission, in case you would give me no information." "Why don't you ask my brother, and not a woman?Were youafraid?"
"He could hardly have done me the honor of placing me in more peril than you have," returned Calvert, smiling."Then I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Culpepper?""I'm Jim Culpepper's sister."
"And, I believe, equally able to give or refuse the permission I ask." "And what if I refuse?""Then I have only to ask pardon for having troubled you, go back, and return here with the tide.You don't resist THAT with a shot- gun, do you?" he asked pleasantly.
Maggie Culpepper was already familiar with the accepted theory of the supreme jurisdiction of the Federal Sea.She half turned her back upon him, partly to show her contempt, but partly to evade the domination of his clear, good-humored, and self-sustained little eyes.
"I don't know anythin' about your deserters, nor what rags o' theirs happen to be floated up here," she said, angrily, "and don't care to.You kin do what you like.""Then I'm afraid I should remain here a little longer, Miss Culpepper; but my duty"--"Your wot?" she interrupted, disdainfully.
