the red lock rampant over his brow, "is sitting on the end of a hard
bench down at the telegraph office trying to get a cable through to his
chief for permission to wait over for a steamer that sails for Panama
two weeks from to-day."

"What?" demanded the major in surprise, looking at Caroline.

"Oh, _she's_ going with him--there are no frills to the affection of
Caroline Darrah! She'll be bending over his camp-fire yanking out his hot
tamales in less than a month--glad to do it. Won't you, beautiful?"
answered David gleefully to Caroline's beautiful confusion.

"David Kildare," observed the major with the utmost solemnity, "when a
man and woman embark with love at the rudder it is well the Almighty
controls the wind and the tides."

"I know, Major, I know and I'm scared some, only I'm counting on Phoebe's
chart and the stars. I'm just the jolly paddler," answered David with a
laugh across at Phoebe.

"Well," remarked the major judicially, "I think she will be able to
accomplish the course if undisturbed. It will behoove you, however, to
remember that husband love is a steady combustion, not a conflagration."

"What do you call a love that has burned constantly for between ten and
fifteen years, Major?" asked David as he smiled into the keen old eyes
that held his.

"That," answered the major, "is a fire fit to light an altar, sir."