Oddly enough this cool appraisement of her costume did not incense the young lady as it ought to have done. On the contrary, for some occult feminine reason, it amused and interested her. It would be such a good story to tell her friends of a “drummer's” idea of gallantry; and to tease the flirtatious young West Pointer who had just joined. And the appraisement was truthful--Major Cantire had only his pay--and Miss Cantire had been obliged to select that hat from the government stores. “Are you in the habit of giving this information to ladies you meet in traveling?” she asked. “Well, no!” answered Boyle--“for that's just where you have to keep your eyes open. Most of 'em wouldn't like it, and it's no use aggravating a possible customer. But you are not that kind.” Miss Cantire was silent. She knew she was not of that kind, but she did not require his vulgar indorsement. She pushed on for some moments alone, when suddenly he hailed her. She turned impatiently. He was carefully examining the road on both sides. “We have either lost our way,” he said, rejoining her, “or the coach has turned off somewhere. These tracks are not fresh, and as they are all going the same way, they were made by the up coach last night. They're not OUR tracks; I thought it strange we hadn't sighted the coach by this time.” “And then”--said Miss Cantire impatiently. “We must turn back until we find them again.” The young lady frowned. “Why not keep on until we get to the top?” she said pettishly. “I'm sure I shall.” She stopped suddenly as she caught sight of his grave face and keen, observant eyes. “Why can't we go on as we are?” “Because we are expected to come back to the COACH--and not to the summit merely. These are the 'orders,' and you know you are a soldier's daughter!” He laughed as he spoke, but there was a certain quiet deliberation in his manner that impressed her. When he added, after a pause, “We must go back and find where the tracks turned off,” she obeyed without a word. They walked for some time, eagerly searching for signs of the missing vehicle. A curious interest and a new reliance in Boyle's judgment obliterated her previous annoyance, and made her more natural. She ran ahead of him with youthful eagerness, examining the ground, following a false clue with great animation, and confessing her defeat with a charming laugh. And it was she who, after retracing their steps for ten minutes, found the diverging track with a girlish cry of triumph. Boyle, who had followed her movements quite as interestedly as her discovery, looked a little grave as he noticed the deep indentations made by the struggling horses. Miss Cantire detected the change in his face; ten minutes before she would never have observed it. “I suppose we had better follow the new track,” she said inquiringly, as he seemed to hesitate. “Certainly,” he said quickly, as if coming to a prompt decision. “That is safest.”