“And you also are too good to me,” he continued, “in giving me this chance to ask your pardon.” His voice took on the old caressing tone in which he used to make peace after their boy and girl tiffs. “I knew very well that with you I should have a stricter account to settle than with your mother,” he said, smiling. “Yes,” said Ruth again. And then with a little effort and a slight flush she added: “I don’t think it is good for men when too many excuses are made for them. Do you?” “No, I do not,” answered Rex, and thought, if all women were like this one, how much easier it would be for men to lead a good life! His heart stopped its heavy beating. The memories which he had been fighting for two years faded away once more; his spirits rose, and he felt like a boy as he kept step with Ruth along the path which had now turned and ran close beside the stream. “Now tell me something of your travels,” said Ruth. “You have been in the East.” “Yes, in Japan. But first I stopped a while in India with some British officers, nice fellows. There was some pheasant shooting.” “Pheasants! No tigers?” “One tiger.” “You shot him! Oh! tell me about it!” “No, I only saw him.” “Where?” “In a jungle.” “Did you fire?” “No, for he was already dead, and the odor which pervaded his resting place made me hurry away as fast as if he had been alive.” “You are a provoking boy!” Rex laughed. “I did shoot a cheetah in China.” “A dead one?” “No, he was snarling over a dead buck.” “Then you do deserve some respect.” “If you like. But it was very easy. One bullet settled him. I was fined afterward.” “Fined! for what?” “For shooting the Emperor’s trained cheetah. After that I always looked to see if the game wore a silver collar before I fired.” Ruth would not look as if she heard. Rex went on teasingly: “I assure you it was embarrassing, when the pheasants were bursting cover, to be under the necessity of inquiring at the nearest house if those were really pheasants or only Chinese hens.” “Rex,” exclaimed Ruth, indignantly, “I hope you don’t think I believe a word you are saying.” They had stopped to rest beside the stream, and now the colonel sauntered into view, his hands full of wild flowers, his single eyeglass gleaming beside his delicate straight nose. “Do you know,” he asked, strolling up to Ruth and tucking a cluster of bluebells under her chin, “do you know what old Hugh Montgomery would say if he were here?” “He’d say,” she replied promptly, “that ‘we couldn’t take no traout with the pesky sun a shinin’ and a brilin’ the hull crick.’” “Yes,” said Rex. “Rise at four, east wind, cloudy morning, that was Hugh. But he could cast a fly.” “Couldn’t he!” said the colonel. “‘I cal’late ter chuck a bug ez fur ez enny o’ them city fellers, ’n I kin,’ says Hugh. Going to begin here, Rex?” “What does Ruth think?” “She thinks she isn’t in command of this party,” Ruth replied.