The camp did not interest her especially; she had seen it at a glance from the automobile. The way we lived was at once familiar to her; I soon found that she did not want me to explain anything. Knowing that she always has her own purposes, and also knowing that I can never guess them, I waited for her to declare herself. She selected a convenient seat on a stone wall, where we could see everything; every man who went by stared at her in admiration, and evidently said to himself, "Isn't that rookie in luck!" Her pretence was that she wanted to know about me, so as to write you; but pretences with Vera are very open. Really she wanted to know about the captain--what kind of a man, how he treated us, how we liked him. She couldn't quite bring herself to say, "Dick, tell me about him!" There is always Vera's pride. But after all, there never need be concealments between us; she knows we are to be friends all our lives. So she let me see what she wouldn't plainly say. And I answered quite as plainly: a fine captain, a fine man, the fellows swore by him. She objected. "He says they hate him." "Perhaps you never before," I said, "came across an aggressive man who is modest. I know he thinks that; it merely shows that he can't work for popularity. But he was telling us recently of the practice hikes he has been giving his company in Panama, to show that after all the hardest work is what we shall look back on with the most pride. It was as plain as day to us, though not to him, that the men there are like our fellows here--they will do anything for him." She dropped the subject; one not knowing Vera would have supposed that she was not even interested in it, but I knew that she had learned what she wanted. Idly she looked down the company street. "What are those men doing?" she asked. A bunch of the men, growing every minute, had been singing to the tune of Solomon Levi words that were not clear to us, being too far away. "It must be the new company song," I said. "I've been told it's good. The fellows are learning it.--See, they're coming this way. I believe they mean to sing it to the captain!" Our other visitors were returning, headed by the captain and Frances. The men, grouped by the water barrel at the head of the street, waited till he was near, pushed their leader out in front, and in hoarse whispers commanded him to begin. You must understand that Vera promptly, but without hurry, had got me close enough to listen. He sang the solo. "One night as I lay dreaming, Underneath the stars, The buzzard stole between the tents To sell us chocolate bars. The captain took him by the scruff And kicked him in the seat, And said 'You greedy buzzard, Get out of the company street!'" The delighted men roared the chorus.