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The young dweller in the wilderness was allowing Rosamund to give a taste of her skill with the gun. Rosamund came back to the camp that evening with Dirmikis, so the boy of the wilderness was called, and five quail, three of them to her gun. She was radiant, and indeed had an air almost of triumph.
Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were glowing; she looked like a beautiful schoolgirl as she walked in over the plateau with the sunset flushing scarlet behind her, and the big moon coming to meet her. Dirmikis, at her side, carried the quail upside down in his brown hands. Rosamund had the gun under her right arm. "It's a capital gun," she called out to Dion. "I got three.
Here, Dirmikis," she turned to the boy, "show them." "Does he understand English?" "No, but he understands me!" she retorted with pride. "Look there!" Dirmikis held up the birds, smiling a savage smile. "Aren't they fat? Feel them, Dion! The three fattest ones fell to my gun, but don't tell him." She sketched a delicious wink, looking about sixteen.
His brows came down over his fiery eyes, and he seemed to stand at gaze like an animal, half-fascinated and half-suspicious. The voice died away and was followed by a sound of pouring water. Then Dirmikis accepted two ten-lepta pieces and picked up the quail.
"I really have a good eye," she added, praising herself with gusto. "It's no use being over-modest, is it? If one has a gift, well one just has it. Here, Dirmikis!" She gave his gun carefully to the barefooted child. "He's a little stunner, and so chivalrous. I never met a boy I liked more. Do give him a nice present, Dion, and let him feed in the camp if he likes." "Well, what next?
"Don't be mean. Bribe him thoroughly if you're going to bribe him. We go shooting together again to-morrow evening." "Do you indeed?" "Yes, directly after tea. It's all arranged. Dirmikis suggested it with the most charming chivalry, and I gave yes for an answer. So we must keep on good terms with him at whatever cost." She cocked up her chin and walked exultantly into the tent.
Robin on horseback!" Her eyes shone. "I can see him already with a gun in his hand old enough to shoot with you," she added. "We must bring him up to be a thorough little sportsman; like that Greek boy Dirmikis." They talked about Robin's future till dinner was over. Dion loved their talk, but he could not help seeing that in Rosamund's forecast town life held no place at all.
A minute afterwards there rang out to the evening a warm contralto voice singing. Dirmikis looked at the tent and then at Dion with an air of profound astonishment. The quail dropped from his hands, and he did not even snatch at them as he listened to the remarkable sounds which, he could not doubt, flowed from his Amazon.
She was the beautiful fair Englishwoman who had camped on the hill of Drouva not so many years ago, who had gone out shooting with that young rascal, Dirmikis, and who had spent solitary hours wrapt in contemplation of the statue whose fame doubtless had brought her to Elis. Not so many years ago!
There was a great stillness in her big eyes. All the vital exuberance of body and spirit mingled together had vanished from her abruptly. Nothing of the Amazon who had captured the heart of Dirmikis remained.
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