“I’ve been up just now at the camp,” he said, “anent the purchase of a troop-horse, and I had not concluded my bargain when Mistress Brown passed. I’m your true cavalier in one respect, that I must be offering every handsome passenger an escort; but this time it’s an office for Elrigmore, who can undertake your company down the way bravely enough, I’ll swear, for all his blateness.” Betty halted, as did the other two of us, and bantered my comrade. “I ask your pardon a thousand times, Barbreck,” she said; “I thought you were hurrying on your way down behind me, and came upon me before you saw who I was.” “That was the story,” said he, coolly; “I’m too old a hand at the business to be set back on the road I came by a lady who has no relish for my company.” “I would not take you away from your marketing for the world,” she proceeded. “Perhaps Elrigmore may be inclined to go up to the camp too; he may help you to the pick of your horse--and we’ll believe you the soldier of fortune again when we see you one.” She, at least, had no belief that the mine-manager was to be a mercenary again. She tapped with a tiny toe on the pebbles, affecting a choler the twinkle in her eyes did not homologate. It was enough for M’Iver, who gave a “Pshaw!” and concluded he might as well, as he said, “be in good company so long as he had the chance,” and down the way again we went. Somehow the check had put him on his mettle. He seemed to lose at once all regard for my interests in this. I became in truth, more frequently than was palatable, the butt of his little pleasantries; my mysterious saunter up that glen, my sobriety of demeanour, my now silence-all those things, whose meaning he knew very well, were made the text for his amusement for the lady. As for me, I took it all weakly, striving to meet his wit with careless smiles.