Part 19

And I suppose so it was; the task was really ended when the idea came in. A strong protector for his darling when his own care should fail, had been the longing in Mr. Erskine's heart for many a day, and Magnus Kindred had always been second only to Cherry in his heart. Yet to give her up before the time, and, instead of leaving her, to have her leave him, it was sharp enough. No wonder he knit his brows now and then in the midst of all the gaiety, and almost put out a hand between his child and this youngster who claimed such rights and took them with such assurance. No wonder if he frowned a little now, to-day, as Magnus came whistling up, and throwing himself down on a lower step of the porch, waited for the older man to speak.

But for a while the silence was unbroken, as Mr. Erskine made a sort of final examination; obliged to come back to the judgment he had given weeks ago, that Charlemagne Kindred was "a splendid fellow." The critical eyes could find no fault.

Very serious the face was now, as he sat there looking off, schooling himself to patient waiting, once in a while almost starting up at some sound of Cherry's voice or step within the house. I am afraid Mr. Erskine took a malign pleasure in keeping him where he was. The malignity was not deep, however, for once, when some scrap of a song floated down from an open upstairs window, there came a look over the face of Cadet Charlemagne Kindred--a sudden light and love and joy--to which the father's eyes gave such sympathetic answer that he was fain to screen them with his hand.

"Well, young sir," he began at last, "I suppose you want to know what I have to say to you?"

"Yes, sir. Furlough ends next week," Magnus answered, without looking round.

"Then back for two years more?"

"Back for two years, sir."

"Magnus, what sort of an inner life have you lived at West Point? They have made a soldier of you outwardly; we can all see so much; but it is possible for a man to be that, and yet have no soldier's heart within."

Magnus coloured deeply.

"Yes, sir," he said. "I know it. And that has been true of me a few times, Mr. Erskine. Never but once in any great thing."

"There are no little things in right and wrong, boy."

"No, sir. I should have said, in what people call great."

Mr. Erskine was silent with sudden pain; he had not looked for such an answer. Then Magnus turned round, and sat facing him, looking full up.

"I have told Cherry the whole thing, straight through," he said; "and now I will tell you, sir, if you wish."

Mr. Erskine drew a breath of relief. If he had told Cherry, it could be nothing very bad; and that he _had_ told her half cleared it away.

"No, do not tell me," he said. "If Cherry knows, that is enough. But, Magnus, I never expected _you_ to lack the soldier heart!"

The boy's eyes flushed, and his lips were unsteady as he said:

"Nor I, sir. You cannot possibly be half so disappointed in me as I was in myself."

There was a long pause. What that bit of schooling was to Magnus it would be hard to describe; but he said not a word to shorten it. With head well up, and eyes looking gravely off at the fair landscape, of which they saw not a thing, so he sat; and Mr. Erskine watched him. His whole heart went out to the boy in tenderness and up for him in prayer. Not a hero in his own right, perhaps, but a better, stronger thing is the man whom God keeps, and who trusts the Lord for all power to keep himself.

"The people that know their God, shall be strong and do exploits."

"You told Cherry," the elder man began at length. "And what did Cherry say?"

"Broke my heart into little pieces," said Magnus briefly.

It was Mr. Erskine's turn to have wet eyes, though he smiled too.

"So!" he said. "My boy, did you ever realise that you might break _her_ heart?"

"Don't ask me to realise it any more than I do, sir," Magnus answered, with a troubled voice. "You see she minds things that some people call trifles."

"Like a true woman," said Mr. Erskine. "I am glad she does."

"So am I!" said Magnus, with hearty emphasis. "There is not a thing about her that I am not glad of. But I have told her everything, Mr. Erskine," he added, "and she forgives me."

"Like a woman again," thought the father. "And she is ready to go with you to San Carlos?"

"I don't know why you will persist in sending me there, sir," Magnus said, with just a touch of impatience. "That seems to be your favourite post. We have not spoken of San Carlos."

"No, I suppose all your talk has been of Fortress Monroe, Governor's Island, and West Point," said Mr. Erskine, in a mocking tone. "Those are the usual first posts for young second lieutenants."

"West Point!" Magnus repeated scornfully. "If you had the faintest idea, Mr. Erskine, what West Point is _without_ Cherry, you would know that San Carlos will be the ranking post in the country when she gets there!"

And the young man sprang to his feet, as if tenter hooks were restless things.

Mr. Erskine held out his hand. "Forgive me, my boy," he said. "I will not tease you any more. Go and find my treasure--and take her for _your_ treasure, and guard her with your life. I do not mean in the common sense of dying for her, but in the nobler, costlier way of living for her. Shield her from any touch of shame, from any sense of loss, from any shadow of pain or sorrow that is not Heaven-sent. Live so that she will be prouder of you every day. Magnus, my darling is a _trust_."

There was something very sweet and solemn too in the way Magnus took the extended hand, and dropping on his knee kissed it earnestly.

"As such I take her, sir. My most dear trust, for every hour I live."

But then he sprang up again, threw his arms round Mr. Erskine with a hug like a young bear, and with a joyous shout of "Ho for San Carlos!" darted away into the house to find Cherry.

XXXVII

RUSHED INTO CAMP

Whither I must, I must.

--_King Henry IV._

If love does sometimes contrive to do for itself what the poet wished, and "annihilate time," over the "space," alas! it has generally no power. Those last days at home were to Magnus only quarter-days; but once in the cars, and the miles drew out a lengthening chain that fairly seemed to clank in his hearing. Two years now, almost, away from those dear faces; two years more without Cherry.

To be sure, she was coming to first-class camp; that was something. She had not said she would, but she must; or he should simply die, and the authorities would have to send him home.

As the train flew on, tossing everything behind its back, classmates began to straggle in, catching the express from one point or another; each State giving up its contingent of much-disgusted men, all equally gloomy and rebellious. What was the use of the old concern, anyhow? So they grumbled, keeping down each other's low spirits, and ever and anon launching forth upon the departed joys of the last eight weeks; opening their hearts less or more, according to the man. For in some coat pockets lay hid a little glove, carefully wrapped in rosy thoughts, and (I was going to say) here and there also a mitten, in different-hued tissue paper. But no, I take that back; nobody ever gets a mitten on furlough, which is perhaps the reason why so many engagements date back to just that point.

They felt very small just now, with love and home behind them; speeding away towards drums, Tacs and the reveille gun. I think some of them would have liked to slide off on a railroad "Y," and so ride backwards all the rest of the way, as under protest.

Through all the grumbling Charlemagne Kindred was profoundly silent, only jerking his words out when they must come, in a way that made the others pronounce him "a gingersnap." But snaps are sweet, and he was not.

"Just think," Rig said lugubriously, as he dropped into the seat by Magnus, "this time to-morrow I shall not have even the show of a pocket."

"That's square; you'll have nothing to put in it."

"And I've got three confinements to serve out the first thing," said Crane, in front.

"All right--you went in for them," said Magnus, with a comfortable consciousness of his own clear score.

"Didn't; I went out."

So the talk went on, and Magnus sat vaguely listening, seldom joining in, his whole self reaching back towards that beloved region whither he could not go. He longed to have the talk stop, the train stop, the world stop--almost: anything, to change the pitiless rush and roar with which he was speeded away from all he loved best.--Mile after mile, hour after hour; till he felt ready to start up and cuff somebody, if only so he could make a change. They talk of homesick plebs, and those fellows have it hard enough; but I doubt if it compares with the _mal de pays_ of the furlough men when they come back.

Cadet Kindred fought it, wrestled with it; then suddenly turned and began to fight himself. For was not this West Point life the very thing singled out just now for him? The surest, best, and quickest way in which he could win education, position, and the means to live? The shortest road to that fair home for Cherry which tinted even his dreams? Had it not been the Lord's appointment, far more than that which dated back to Congressman Ironwood? I do not think the ache died out, a bit; but the antagonism did. Ready for duty, ready for all that might come with duty; yes, that should be true of him. As clearly as to-morrow he would answer to his name at roll-call, so now in his heart Charlemagne Kindred said: "Yes, Lord, here!" What were they all praying for him at home? Not only, not chiefly, that he might win the honours; but that his daily life might _be_ an honour to the cause of Christ.

The miles did not shorten after that; home still shone oh, how vividly! and shoulder-straps looked dim and hazy in the distance, and graduation but a myth; but the brave heart addressed itself to wait, and to work, and to endure.

The great city was reached, and trunks and men conveyed across to where the swift steamer lay taking in her living freight. The whole class, gathered now from all sides of the great country, mustered in "cits" for the last time.

As I think, it was a happy thing for these young schoolmen, that in the year of which I write, the "rush" was still in its glory; not yet found out to be unmilitary and dangerous. But now the first classman is supposed to forget that he ever was a boy.

For my part, I am glad to know this for a clear fallacy. No power on earth, not even time, can ever drive the mischief out of some men, or kill the frolic that lies hid behind those sober suits of grey. The most sedate bearing may belong to the plotter of the most consummate exploits; and the gravest men take your breath away telling what they have done. Ah, it is not the boy in them that needs watching, but the undisciplined man.

But as I said, in those days the hopeless task was not begun. So when the boat reached the landing, and her signal went sounding up the hill, a rousing reception was ready.

The furlough men had been watching with sober eyes, as one grey wall after another peered through the trees; and now they stepped wearily along the steep, winding road, bags in hand; a dusty, rebellious lot. Then paused at the top of the hill and clustered together in front of the Library.

Before them lay the cavalry plain, brown and powdery with sun and riding; the black guns of the Light Battery; then the camp. Rank after rank, in their exact order, the white tents gleamed in the sunshine. A moment the travellers saw it all.

Then on the nearer side there gathered a grey and white swarm of figures; the furlough men spread themselves in a long single line, and, joining hands, began to double-time it across the plain. The grey figures dashed out across what was afterwards the famous "Post No. 6," swooped down upon the furlough men, and "rushed them into camp."

There followed ten minutes of utter Babel-like confusion; hats, caps, handbags, and men were on the ground or in the air, as the case might be. I think Mr. Starr lost his foothold on firm earth several times, while Magnus Kindred made things just as lively for one or two small first classmen. Men hugged each other or shook hands, according to the various degrees of size and friendship. The ladies on the seats clapped hands; the yearlings, on their way to dancing, turned and gave a cheer. Then the hubbub was over. The furlough men dived into their tents, and came forth to dinner roll-call full blown cadets, with very sober faces. The rush helped them for the minute, but it could not last; they were a sorry-looking lot.

Charlemagne Kindred came out too, after a while (anything but his own thoughts!), and was most effusively greeted by Miss Beguile and Miss Saucy. But being promptly bid to stand and deliver a full, true, and unvarnished account of the summer's work and play, he got off as soon as he could and took his sergeant's chevrons and his loneliness down Flirtation for a walk.

How unbearable these average girls were to him after Cherry! Cherry, with her quaint, womanly ways, and low-toned voice, and earnest eyes; a hundred times fairer in her fresh print dress than they with all their silks and streamers! "A trust"--ah, she was one worth having. And it was with a very moved and joyful heart that Cadet Kindred realised how surely upon his keeping of that trust, hung all the joy and brightness of her sweet life. Hers--and theirs; four true women looking up to him.

On the whole, it was a very good bit of thinking the young sergeant did there, with the lovely river sweeping by at his feet, and the leaves in a glad rustle behind him. Yes, every new bit of honour that he could win, in any line, would be gilded anew for them. He must send them a correct drawing of even the new chevrons.

Magnus again mounted the hill, but at the edge of the broken ground he faced about and took off his cap to the flag.

"Glad to see you, old friend!" he said. "Henceforth, you and I are going to run things together. I'm enlisted now, for all the storms that blow."

XXXVIII

HIGH GROUND

But never sit we down and say, "There's nothing left but sorrow." We walk the Wilderness to-day, The promised Land to-morrow.

--GERALD MASSEY.

There was much wedging and crowding in the camp that night, lightened somewhat by the big hop which shortened the night for so many. Not for Magnus. He went to bed, thinking the night would be two nights long: quite sure he should not close his eyes.

But youth, and health, and the long journey, and even sorrow, quite upset his calculations. When the hop men turned in, Magnus hardly roused up enough to give a short answer to some details; and when the sharp voice of the reveille gun spoke in his ear, it was as clear a wake-up--and alas! as disgusted a one--as Cadet Kindred had ever known. But breaking camp at least would be welcome: hard work suited his mood just now much better than play.

Yet before the hour drew on, he strolled out towards the visitors' seats; the exquisite morning, the dainty wreaths of mist, and the sweet, pure air, making him so homesick that he craved even a chatter of tongues that should stop his thoughts.

The seats were a waving line of colour. Hats turned up, and hats turned down; bonnets too small to be seen, and hats like umbrellas; ribands, laces, streamers of every kind. Plenty of grey coats, too; first classmen and yearlings in their glory, with other disconsolate furlough men, searching the crowd for a friend, if possibly such a thing remained to them east of the Rockies, or north of Mason and Dixon's line. Everywhere a busy chatter, with introductions, greetings, inquiries, and much swinging of cadet caps. Sugar-plums abounded. On the grass a group of children sunned themselves in front of the grown-up people, sometimes aping their ways.

Magnus was taken possession of rapturously,--had to touch a half-dozen gloves in as many seconds.

"And where have you been all summer, Mr. Kindred?" Miss Fashion inquired in gracious tones.

"In a much better place than this old camp, Miss Fashion."

"That goes without saying," chimed in Miss Saucy. "Any place where _you_ were, would of course overtop the rest of the world."

"It might," Magnus answered, thinking of the oak shadows where he had sat with Cherry. I am not so sure that he heard Miss Fashion's next words, looking over her head towards the Western sky. The West! The West!

"And of course your desire for study is immense," the young lady went on, a little louder.

"Quite insatiable!"

"Oh, you're too good to be true!" said Miss Saucy.

"But don't you feel all out of training?" said another girl. "I should think it would come awfully hard at first."

"On the contrary, I feel in better training than ever in my life before."

"But that is _awful_!" said the Kitten. "Back from furlough 'in training'? Why, Magnus, you'll come out blue."

"I expect it," said Magnus, with a bow. "That is what I am aiming for."

"Now _that_ I call mean," said the young lady; "taking one up so. How sharp you have grown all of a sudden!"

"Best let him alone, Puss," said Miss Saucy, "or you'll cut your fingers. He's been at the seaside, eating razors."

"Using 'em, too," said the Kitten, gazing at Magnus. "Didn't it go to your heart to cut off your moustache?"

"Everything goes to my heart. That is my weak point."

"What was the last arrival?" demanded Miss Saucy.

"That drum." And in answer to the warning rub-a-dub, Cadet Kindred touched his cap to the ladies and crossed the green strip in front of the colour line.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Miss Kent, a pretty blonde in her first West Point season, and who had taken the whole yearling class as near to her heart as is usual on such occasions; "I shall just cry, I know I shall, when that camp goes down! Think, girls, there won't be any place to go to spend the day!"

"The seats under the trees," suggested Miss Beguile.

"Oh, yes, you can sit there as long as you please," said Minna Kent, "but _they_ can't come and sit with you. Some old dowager always pokes along and turns them out."

"And if the men look at you in ranks, you're none the wiser," said Miss Saucy. "Do you know, I just _made_ Clinch look at me the other night as he came round Towser. He was acting-adjutant. It's the meanest thing to break camp before cold weather. There it goes!--our camp!"

But it was the same old story, after all. Always crushed sugar plums under foot and withered flowers; the air filled with heart-beats that nobody heard, and glances that no one saw.

The cadets get rid of their plumes and trappings; the girls hold fast to all they have; and away they all go, for walks, talks, and flirtations. Two girls to a cadet, three cadets to a girl, or two very special chums together.

Among the solitary stragglers was Charlemagne Kindred. He waited till every girl was out of sight, dodged or shook off his loitering comrades, and then, with steady step went straight across the plain and took stand beneath the waving folds of his old love, the flag.

Two whole years--two years and three months almost--since the first day when he stood in that circling shadow and took his vow of brave allegiance. Leaning back now against the white pole, he tried to scan the two years' record.

In the main, he had kept his vow; love had never faltered, nor fealty. But he knew now, far better than he knew then, that for this love as for the other he must _live_, as well as be ready to die. The honour of the Stars and Stripes was at stake, wherever an American fought out his personal life-fight with evil. On harder fields sometimes than Chapultepec, and with no earthly glory for reward. No name on a tall column, no tablet in chapel or hall. Unknown, perhaps, while the fight lasted: no notice taken, until the Great Captain shall speak the "Well done," when he comes to survey the field.

Looking up at the red, white, and blue, Magnus said to himself that devotion, purity, and truth were the real defenders of the country; winning victories far beyond what powder and shot could ever gain; keeping the flag not only flying, but unstained.

"Winning victories"--he repeated to himself, looking up again at the lovely waving folds of the flag: "positive, as well as negative."

Bible words are very positive.

"He that is not with me is against me," said the Lord Jesus. "He that gathereth not with me, scattereth."

"But they don't leave us time for anything like that," Magnus thought, in half excuse. "It takes so long just to _be_; to look after your own prayers and reading. There isn't any chance to _do_."

And now he remembered the lovely, constant shining of Cherry's life in even the commonest, everyday things; the halo that was always about her. Set her at any sort of work, in any sort of company, and you could never doubt for a moment whose she was and whom she served. The King's seal was there. Such a life is positive, by its very nature.

"But then she is like nobody else," Magnus went on, as his rapturous thoughts finished off with a long, heavy sigh. "And she has a little space to breathe in, too. But here--just math. and chem., study and drill, from dawn to dark." Then other words came up before his eyes.

"Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily; as to the Lord, and not to men."

"Whatsoever ye do, in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus."

"Even those old lessons," commented Cadet Kindred. "I rather suspect I've been setting my study books at the wrong angle. I know Cherry says that drudgery fades out, if you write the name of Jesus on it. Wonder if it would work so with anybody but her?"

And a long, dull procession of days rose up in sight; each one loaded down with hard, monotonous work. Not prettily varied, with one day this and next day that, but a steady, straight on pull in the same lines, for weeks together.

"And we can't turn and twist about as you do, old flag," he said, "but have got to stand attention (or sit it) every time. It would feel sort o' good, if we could just choose our own positions for firing off blunders."

"Whatever in the world are _you_ holding up the flagstaff for?" said Rig's astonished voice, as that young man came up from among the guns. "Beastly dull here, isn't it? I say, Kin, when's that awfully pretty sister of yours coming?"

"Which one?"

"Well, both, then," corrected Rig.

"After you graduate--if you ever do."

"You may well say if. But you'll be gone yourself, then."

"Maybe I shall not let them come at all. There are too many girls here now." And Magnus cast cynical eyes towards several free-and-easy damsels who were sauntering across the plain, well attended.

"There they go," he said; "men and girls and parasols. And the parasols are the only things in the lot with a grain of sense. Just hear that pink girl laugh! She's got Duncy in tow, telling him: 'Oh, Mr. Duncy! you are _so_ amusing!'"

"Shouldn't wonder if she wasn't. I think he is, sometimes, myself," said Rig.

"He is a consistent goose," said Magnus.

"Come, now, Kin, you're out of humour," Rig said soothingly. "You'll feel better after dinner."

"No I shall not," Magnus answered crossly. "Last Thursday I had chicken pie and apple fritters."

Rig gave a groan.

"Well," he said, "it can't be helped, so eat all you can. And there goes the drum."

The two set off for barracks, but if Magnus had eased his mind, he had certainly given his heart an extra load.

"Kindred's as glum as a post," remarked a smart first classman. "Easy to see his girl's gone back on him."

Magnus caught the words, but then came a thrill of joy. No, _that_ could never be true; and his girl was the very best in all the world. The sights and sounds about him grew indistinct; and with thoughts two thousand miles away, Cadet Kindred finished his dinner and never knew what it was. Only "Company A, rise!" awaked him from his dream.

XXXIX

MORE GIRLS

Pray to God, but continue to row to the shore.

--_Russian Proverb._