“Certainly not.  There is so little I can do, I do not propose yielding any prerogative.”  And she drew her head through the strap, letting the leather bag fall to the sand.  “I am afraid there is no cloth here.  Would you dare light a fire?”

“Hardly, even if we had fuel,” he answered, watching her with interest.  She glanced up into his face, her cheeks reddening.

“Why don’t you want me to do this?”

“How do you know I object?  Indeed, it is quite pleasant to be waited upon.  Only, you see, it is very unusual for an officer’s daughter to take such good care of an enlisted man.”

“But I am not thinking of that at all.  You—­this is different.”

“For the moment, perhaps,” just a slight bitterness in his tone, “and I should enjoy it while I can.”

She stopped in her work, sitting straight before him.  Her eyes were indignant, yet she stifled the first words that leaped to her lips.  His soft hat lay on the sand and the sun revealed his tanned face, bringing out its strength.

“You—­should n’t say that,” she faltered.  “Surely you do not believe I will ever become ungrateful.”

“No; and yet gratitude is not altogether satisfactory.”  He hesitated.  “It is hard to explain just what I mean to you, for you do not realize the life we lead out here—­the loneliness of it.  Even a man in the ranks may possess the desires of a human being.  I—­well, I ’m hungry for the companionship of a good woman.  Don’t misunderstand, Miss McDonald.  I am not presuming, nor taking advantage of the accident which has placed us in this peculiar position, but I have been a trooper out here now a long while, stationed at little isolated frontier posts, riding the great plains, doing the little routine duties of soldiering.  I have n’t spoken to a decent woman on terms of social equality for two years; I ’ve looked at a few from a distance and taken orders from them.  But they have glanced through me as though I were something inanimate instead of a man.  I saved an officer’s life once down there,” and he pointed into the southeast, “and his wife thanked me as though it were a disagreeable duty.  I reckon you don’t understand, but I don’t like the word gratitude.”

“But I do understand,” and she stretched out her hand to him across the opened haversack.  “I ’m not so dull, and it must be awful to feel alone like that, I told you I—­I liked you, and—­I do.  Now remember that, please, and be good.  From now on I am not Major McDonald’s daughter, not even Miss McDonald—­I ’m just Molly McDonald.”

The gray eyes laughed.

“You are assuming a great risk.”

“I don’t believe it,” her forehead wrinkling a little, but her eyes bright.  “You and I can be friends—­can’t we?”

“We ’ll try, out here, at least.  Even if the dream does n’t last long, it will be pleasant to remember.”

“You do not think it will last, then?”