what's up?" said the young man who remained.

The remark, without being confidential, was so clearly the first
sentence of natural conversation that the Scotchman, although
relieved, said, "Eh, man?" a little cautiously.

"It's as clear as this sunshine that Captain Carroll and Garnier
are each particularly anxious to know what the other is doing or
intends to do this morning."

"Why did they separate, then?" asked the other.

"That's a mere blind. Garnier's looking through his window now at
Carroll, and Carroll is aware of it."

"Eh!" said the Scotchman, with good-humored curiosity. "Is it a
quarrel? Nothing serious, I hope. No revolvers and bowie-knives,
man, before breakfast, eh?"

"No," laughed the younger man. "No! To do Maruja justice, she
generally makes a fellow too preposterous to fight. I see you
don't understand. You're a stranger; I'm an old habitue of the
house--let me explain. Both of these men are in love with Maruja;
or, worse than that, they firmly believe her to be in love with
THEM."

"But Miss Maruja is the eldest daughter of our hostess, is she
not?" said the Scotchman; "and I understood from one of the young
ladies that the Captain had come down from the Fort particularly to
pay court to Miss Amita, the beauty."