"There was a man--'Boots' Lansing--in Bannard's command. One night on
Samar the bolo-men rushed us, and Lansing got into the six-foot major's
boots by mistake--seven-leaguers, you know--and his horse bucked him
clean out of them."

"Hence his Christian name, I suppose," said the girl; "but why such a
story, Captain Selwyn? I believe I stuck to my saddle?"

"With both hands," he said cordially, always alert to plague her. For
she was adorable when teased--especially in the beginning of their
acquaintance, before she had found out that it was a habit of his--and
her bright confusion always delighted him into further mischief.

"But I wasn't a bit worried," he continued; "you had him so firmly
around the neck. Besides, what horse or man could resist such a pleading
pair of arms around the neck?"

"What you saw," she said, flushing up, "is exactly the way I shall do
any pleading with the two animals you mention."

"Spur and curb and thrash us? Oh, my!"

"Not if you're bridle-wise, Captain Selwyn," she returned sweetly. "And
you know you always are. And sometimes"--she crossed her crop and looked
around at him reflectively--"_sometimes_, do you know, I am almost
afraid that you are so very, very good, that perhaps you are becoming
almost goody-good."

"_What_!" he exclaimed indignantly; but his only answer was her head