The young officer marched down the road, his heedless feet kicking up
the red dust in clouds, his mind busied with the peculiar happenings of
the morning, and that prospect for early active service hinted at in
the brief utterances of the old scout. Brant was a thorough soldier,
born into the service and deeply enamored of its dangers; yet beyond
this he remained a man, a young man, swayed by those emotions which
when at full tide sweep aside all else appertaining to life.
Just now the vision of that tantalizing girl continued to haunt his
memory, and would not down even to the glorious hope of a coming
campaign. The mystery surrounding her, her reticence, the muttered
insinuation dropping from the unguarded lips of Murphy, merely served
to render her the more attractive, while her own naive witchery of
manner, and her seemingly unconscious coquetry, had wound about him a
magic spell, the full power of which as yet remained but dimly
appreciated. His mind lingered longingly upon the marvel of the dark
eyes, while the cheery sound of that last rippling outburst of laughter
reechoed in his ears like music.
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