The Terms of Surrender Part 30

"Measles. Just imagine a Brobdingnagian measle!"

"Are you, then, a type of the present inhabitants?"

"No. My ailment was due to being knocked insensible during a fire."

Power reddened. "You are an adept in twisting the sense of the most commonplace remarks, to say the least," he said, careless whether or not he annoyed her.

She parried this thrust with sublime unconcern: "I know. It's horrid.

But I had to tell you. Now I'll be good, and take myself off. You'll be heartily sick of my company after five thousand miles of it."

Certainly Miss Marguerite Sinclair's unusual methods of expressing herself struck a jarring note, and, whether by chance or by the exercise of rare intuition, the one note able to penetrate Power's armor of indifference. Her somewhat bizarre personality was vivid in his mind long after she had left him; but night and the stars brought other thoughts, and blurred the sharp lines of the vignette.

Next morning he breakfasted early, and alone. After a long tramp on the upper deck, he asked a steward where a deck-chair ordered overnight had been placed. The man inquired his name, consulted a list, and led him through the music-room to the port side. The chair stood aft of the companionway, and it was irritating to find the neighboring chair occupied by a young and remarkably pretty woman, who seemed to be deeply engrossed in a book.

"I prefer the starboard side," he said sharply. "Bring it along, and I'll show you where to put it."

The lady lifted her eyes to his in an amused, sidelong glance.

"Good-morning, Mr. Power," she said. "You are pardoned for thinking there is a conspiracy floating around; but there isn't."

Power was staggered; but he did not mean to provide a permanent target for the shafts of Miss Marguerite Sinclair's wit. At present she was treating him as though she were "rotting" some small schoolboy.

"Leave the chair--I have changed my mind," he said, and dismissed the steward with a tip. Then he sat down, and scrutinized the girl so brazenly that her eyes fell, and she blushed.

"There is no help for it," he explained. "I suppose we ought to be able, at least, to recognize each other when we meet."

"I should know you again in twenty years; you are not a two-faced person, like me," she retorted.

"It is consoling to find that you can be as unfair to yourself as you were to me last night."

"Would you have me twist my neck like a parrot, and say, 'Please look on this picture, not on that,' when a stranger happens to be to port instead of to starboard?"

"I do really think it would be worth while," he said.

He saw now that she was a girl of twenty or thereabouts, and a singularly attractive one from this new point of view. He felt that he must atone for the curt order to the steward; but she only laughed at the implied compliment.

"The poor fellow saw us talking together, and arranged the chairs accordingly," she said. "I'm frankly pleased, and you say you are; so that's all right. Let us swap symptoms, as grand folk do in society. I have told you how I secured my keepsake. How did you acquire a limp?"

"By lying too long in one position," he replied, unconsciously emulating her flippancy.

"Dear me! Why didn't you try some other sort of lie?"

"Because I was pinned down to the original statement by a ton of rock."

"I should have thought that the noise would have waked you up."

"That remark is a trifle too subtle for my dull wits."

"I watched you strolling about this morning, and decided that you were walking in your sleep."

"You shouldn't jump at conclusions. If I judged you by your pointed style of speech, I might regard you as a new species of porcupine."

"Good!" she said approvingly. "I was sure we'd become friends. I wish my father knew you. He would like you."

"Taking a line through you, may I say that the liking would be mutual?"

"Are you, by any chance, thinking of visiting Patagonia?"

"No," he said.

For some reason, hard to define, he was convinced that Patagonia, though reported barren, would prove a rather unsuitable place for an anchorite.

"Are you interested in mines?" she inquired, after a pause.

"Yes."

"What sort of mines, copper or silver?"

"Neither."

"Really, you are most informing."

"I beg your pardon," he said hurriedly. "My mind wandered for the moment. I was thinking how extraordinary it was that a young lady should hit on my profession so promptly."

"No marvel at all. Rocks fall mostly on miners."

"An excellent example of ratiocinative reasoning."

"Don't imagine you can crush me with a word weighing a ton. Dad and I practise them on each other. They keep our brains from rusting, a common enough process on a ranch. Have you ever lived on one?"

He stirred uneasily. Evidently, Patagonia shared certain characteristics with Colorado. Those absurdly shrewd eyes of hers missed nothing.

"Have I stuck another quill into you?" she went on. "If so, it was an involuntary effort."

"As it happens, I do live--I mean, I have lived--on a ranch. I own one; but it contains a gold mine. So, you see, your divination is almost uncanny."

"I am still guessing why you are coming to South America. Don't tell me if you prefer to make a mystery of your intentions."

"Will you be vexed if I avail myself of your offer, and remain silent?"

"Vexed? I shall be delighted. It is a positive joy to meet a man who had rather appear uncivil than coin a polite fib. The most truthful of men lie glibly to girls. They think it is good for us. Now, I regard you as a person who hates deceit in either man or woman."

He turned and stared at her fixedly. "May I ask how old you are?" he said abruptly.

"Nineteen."

"You talk like a woman of forty, and a wise one at that."

"I was grown-up at seven. At twelve I got that crack on the head I told you of last night, when our homestead was attacked and burnt by drunken Indians----"