It was a natural though curiously pertinent question; but Power was at no loss for an answer.
"I have really been arranging certain details as a preliminary to my departure," he said.
"After some days, or weeks, perhaps. I hardly know yet."
Power remembered then that he had invited the Englishman to visit Colorado. It was practically settled that Dacre should come West within three weeks or a month.
"By Jove!" he cried, "you must accept my apologies. Of course, I would have recalled our fixture in good time, and have written postponing your trip to Bison. Circumstances beyond my control will prevent my return home for an indefinite period. I can't tell you how sorry I am."
"Same here," said the other, with John Bull directness.
"But neither of us is likely to shuffle off the map yet awhile," continued Power. "You have my address, both in Colorado and at my New York bank, and I have yours. Keep me posted as to your movements, and we shall come together again later in the year."
He was eager to dissipate a certain starchiness, not wholly unjustifiable, which he thought he could detect in his companion's manner; but the discovery of its true cause disconcerted him more than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. Enlightenment was not long delayed. Dacre's evident lack of ease arose from circumstances vastly more important than the disruption of his own plans; he hesitated only because he was searching for the right way to express himself.
"You and I have cultivated quite a friendship since we forgathered here nearly three weeks ago," he began, after a pause which Power again interpreted mistakenly.
"Yes, indeed. Won't you let me explain----"
"Not just yet. You are on the wrong tack, Power. You believe I'm rather cut up about the postponement of your invitation. Not a bit of it. This little globe cannot hold two men like you and me, and keep us apart during the remainder of our naturals. No, mine is a different sort of grouch. Now, I'm a good deal older than you. You won't take amiss anything I tell you, providing I make it clear that I mean well?"
Power's reply was straightforward enough; but his tone was cold and guarded. The chill of premonition had fallen on him. A man whom he liked and respected was about to fire the first shot on behalf of unctuous rectitude and the conventions.