Part 20

But work did come hard! The reveille gun was such an impertinence after the lazy summer mornings at home. Every officer figured as an enemy, every drill was an unmitigated bore. And despite what people say about changed seasons, it rained Saturday afternoon then, as it always does now; while if it rained other days too, yet it was sure to clear up in time for drill--or the cadets thought so, which did as well.

Such meals, too, three times a day! Fair enough in ordinary, and easily disposed of by the healthy young appetites, whetted with hard work and open air; but thrown into utter disgrace just now by the background of "mother's" dainties and "home" cream. They were sober enough, these furlough men. But it is hard for even quiet steeds to go calmly back from pasture into the traces; some other fiery young coursers were simply rampant. A good deal of mischief went on in those first weeks in barracks.

Magnus Kindred kept out of it, partly because he had Cherry's image before his eyes; but also because he liked his freedom better than anything else, and had never learned to confound license with liberty. No amount of fun on Monday, would pay him for spending the next Saturday afternoon on the area.

So while other men "ran it" to the Hotel or to Highland Falls, paying that unpleasant penalty, Cadet Kindred kept his playtime free, taking long, long walks over the mountain or in other leafy regions where the squirrels and woodpeckers had it all to themselves. Studying the fanciful piebald of the autumn leaves, gathering the quaint yellow witch-hazel blooms, and the white ladies' tresses; and bringing back to barracks such a clear head for study that he went up hand over hand. Men said he was in love--which was certainly true; and some, that he was trying to "bootlick the Supe," which was as certainly false. And again others, that he was "boning Willet's Point." But no; he was doing better, and simply "boning" the highest stand he could reach.

Meanwhile, to grace the lovely fall weather, several new flowers--or birds--might be seen at parade and on the sidewalk. And Magnus had been duly presented, and had done his first devoirs to the fair strangers. But after that he thought he might please himself again, and muse and climb among the beloved old rocks.

"Where _does_ Mr. Kindred go every Saturday?" Miss Berry demanded of Rig one day. "You know I'm visiting at the corner house, and can watch both ways. But while I'm running from one window to the other, he always contrives to vanish; and I never can tell into which house."

"Of course I cannot say, Miss Jo," Rig answered, "because you know I never get round the corner. The minute I see you watching for me, I stop and come in."

"Watching for you! I think I see myself," said Miss Berry.

"You'll see something very sweet, when you do," said Rig politely.

"It'll be something pretty sour, if you're not careful," retorted Miss Berry. "But say--I'm awfully curious to know. Where does he go most, Saturdays?"

"Why, nowhere, to visit, they say," said the hostess.

"Isn't there someone he cares about out West, Mr. McLean?"

"He has two charming sisters."

"Oh, of course!--all you cadets have charming sisters," said Miss Jo impatiently. "Anybody else?"

"Lots of girls there," Rig replied. "They haven't all come East by several."

"What do Western girls look like?"

"Angels, some of 'em," said Rig, thinking of Violet's eyes.

"Did you see Mr. Kindred's best girl?"

"I rather suspect I saw three of them," Rig answered slowly.

"Three! Why, the man's a Turk. Wasn't one better than the other?"

"I thought so," said Rig. "It's a matter of opinion, I suspect."

"Oh, shut up!" said Miss Jo, with beautiful ease of manner. "It's no more possible to get the truth out of a cadet, than----"

"Than to get it without him," suggested Rig.

"I'll get at it somehow, you'd better believe," said Miss Jo. "What were these three girls called?"

"One of them seemed to have a sort of French title; the other two answered to plain English."

"French--that's a likely story. What do you know about French?"

"Not much," Rig confessed. "Don't be hard on me, Miss Jo. I expect to be found in January, but you might leave a fellow hopes till then."

"And you will _not_ tell us a thing about Mr. Kindred," joined in another girl.

"Well, now"--said Rig,--"that's putting it rather strong. But here comes Kin himself; he ought to know. He's of age, ask him, as the Jews said in the Bible."

And Mr. McLean stepped to the window and hailed his friend, who had not had the faintest intention of calling upon anybody that afternoon.

However, so summoned, there was nothing else to do. So Magnus came in, hung up his cap in the hall, shook hands with his hostess and the other ladies, and then, after the manner of cadet chaff, asked Rig what he was fooling there for? wasting his own time as well as Miss Jo's?

"She said she hadn't any to lose, so I'm safe there," answered Mr. McLean.

"Make the most of it,--that won't carry you far," said Miss Jo. "What _do_ you suppose he has been doing, Mr. Kindred?"

"Could not guess--when it is Rig."

"Absolutely quoted the Bible to me. I came so near fainting away that he called you in for a tonic."

"Quoted it pertinently?"

"No, impertinently. Oh, Mr. Kindred, will you let me have a walk after chapel on Sunday?"

"Certainly--but I cannot take you to get it."

"I suppose that passes for cadet wit," said Miss Jo, pouting. "Why cannot you, pray?"

"Something else to do: a previous."

"You can't fool me so," said Miss Jo, shaking her flaxen head. "You _know_ your best girl isn't here."

"What then?"

"Then there is nobody else you need walk with. I think you're very unkind, Mr. Kindred. And I've got such a box of candy as _you_ never saw."

"Let me see it now," said Magnus, smiling. "Destroy ignorance wherever you find it."

"I guess I will! No, I'll give that walk to Mr. Clayton, and nobody else shall have a crumb."

"Or a smile."

"Good for Clayton," said Rig. "Then he won't have to dead-beat to the hospital Monday morning, but can go there for good and sufficient reasons."

"Aren't you ashamed!--as if my candy was poison," said Miss Jo indignantly.

"Mr. Kindred," said the hostess, "my curiosity is astir about this 'best girl' of yours; I should like to know your taste. What is she like?"

"Like herself: I know nobody else," said Magnus.

"So then she really does exist somewhere?"

"Why, you asked about her."

"Yes, of course I did; but then I didn't know but Mr. McLean had been fooling us."

"Would he dare do that?"

"It's my belief he fools about everything," said Miss Jo. "And you too. I don't think you cadets know how to be serious about a single thing."

"Grinds _are_ almost the staff of life here," said Magnus. "But you do Rig unjustice: he'll be serious enough when he gets zero in wave motion."

"Don't speak of wave motion Saturday afternoon," pleaded Rig. "It's the only time in the week when anything stands still and right side up. The air waves, and the light waves; and not a thing is steady, from Saturday night to Saturday noonday."

"I hope you do not study wave motion on Sunday," said the hostess reprovingly.

"Only practises it in chapel, you know," said Magnus. "Rig goes to sleep systematically, and keeps up in wave motion by a series of graceful nods."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Rig. "Well, I sometimes do, that's a fact. Somebody stuck a pin into me last Sunday. Wasn't you, was it, Kin?"

"It was not my pin. Come away, Rig, you've got another visit to pay before retreat," and the two bowed themselves out.

"I don't believe I'll call on Miss Saucy to-day," said Rig, as they walked along. "I got thinking about your handsome sisters, and that takes the taste out of other girls."

"Oh, does it!" said Magnus mockingly. "If you say that again, I'll report you to the Com. for a cannibal. There--the Kitten is tapping on the window for you, and you can go to Miss Saucy later. Run in; there's a lot of girls staying there."

And Rig ran in. But in the hall, while giving himself those finishing touches in which even men indulge, Rig found that Cadet Kindred had slipped away to parts unknown.

XL

ON FORT PUT

Think truly, and thy thoughts Shall the world's famine feed; Speak truly, and each word of thine Shall be a fruitful seed. Live truly, and thy life shall be A great and noble creed.

--DR. BONAR.

No, Cadet Kindred was in no mood for "other girls" that day; had he not just been writing his heart out to Cherry? and was not her last letter lying _perdu_ up his sleeve? You could not expect him to have any relish for common doings.

So with the easy, steady gait which I wish all men might copy, Magnus went swiftly on to the west end of the officers' row. Past Miss Saucy, who signalled him from her friend's porch; past Miss Bee, who bowed from an open window; past the talk and the laughter, the scent of chocolate, the certainty of sugar plums. Then at the last house of the old "west limits" he turned sharply round the corner, and began to mount the hill. Small danger of "other girls" here, or of other men, unless a few homesick strollers like himself; and these were passed with only a nod. The real denizens of the roadway were wild and sweet as the day. Red squirrels and brown chipmunks darted across the path, whisked into holes, or chattered in the treetops; "the sound of dropping nuts," the rustle of leaves, the voice of a crow or a gull, only made the stillness more exquisite. The rocks were cushioned with mosses; the ferns and the early fallen leaves of chestnut and butternut made a lovely carpet all about; the clear air seemed strung and tuned to the last pitch of harmony. Far down, down, the winding river, in its varying shades of blue and grey, flowed silently among the hills, flecked with the white wings of two or three sloops and schooners; but all too distant for the murmur of the little waves, the creaking of cordage, to reach him.

Cadet Kindred paused several times at points where the view opened; then addressing himself to the hill again, and choosing the old broken, steep-pitched track of a hundred years ago. The Revolutionary style suited his mood to-day; and he sped up the last steep incline with a will; passed through the old sallyport, sprang up the parapet, and sat down to gaze.

At his feet the rough hillside went in tumbling, breaking fashion down to the little fringe of houses in the officers' row; and beyond them the green plain spread out its fair expanse, with Barracks and Academic Library and Chapel, walling it in on the south. Elsewhere the river, and beyond that again the hills. From above the trees on Trophy Point the fair, curling folds of the flag, with an action which would have been lazy had there been any call for haste, lifted and drooped at the top of the tall white staff. Magnus Kindred stood up again and saluted, with a flourish.

"Yes, old friend," he said, "we are sworn comrades now, whatever happens. One full summer more for me here, and then away to the ends of the earth: but that blessed old rag will fly just as well at San Carlos as at West Point, and be just as ready to read me a lesson."

And with that, Magnus stretched himself out on the green slope, pulled forth Cherry's letter, and read it through twice.

Then he studied the flag again; musing over things he had heard and read. Of the men who ran up the colours when their ship was sinking in the deep, dark sea; of standards dyed with the life-blood of their defenders. Of the failures that yet were a triumphant success.

"My half day's work is done, And this is all my part. I give a patient God My patient heart:

"And grasp his banner still, Though all its blue be dim; These stripes, no less than stars, Lead after him."

"I wonder if that fellow loved anybody," Magnus questioned with himself, a stricture coming over his heart at thought of the young soldier under whose death-pillow the brave, pitiful lines were found. "And I wonder if I could have said it in his place? But that is what it means. That is just what I have to do for the old Stars and Stripes--and for the Lord's banner."

And secure against the criticisms of chipmunks and chickadees, Magnus began at the old ballad of the "Star-Spangled Banner," and sang it straight through.

"Well sung, and to the purpose," said a pleasant voice, and Magnus started up, to find a gentleman close behind him; and, as he saw at a glance, no less a person than his friend of the candidate journey.

It was plain, however, that Mr. Wayne did not know him. How could he find in the close-cropped hair the wayward, curly locks of two years ago? or see, in this happy compound of uniform and drill, the homesick boy whom he had cheered and comforted?

"Do not let me disturb you," said the newcomer, taking a seat near Magnus. "I was wandering round among the old walls, thinking how much had crumbled and how much grown up since their day, not knowing there was anyone up here but myself. And when suddenly the dear old song rang out, I could not help coming near to listen. Has it come into fashion again, in these latter days?"

"Not especially, that I know of," said Magnus. "But I was brought up on it."

"So was I. And where were you brought up?"

Magnus named his State.

"Strange!" said Mr. Wayne. "The first boy I ever spoke to who was coming to West Point was from that State; and now so is also the first full-fledged cadet I meet with here."

"Yes, we have a good representation from all our districts," said Magnus.

"Do you men from the same State always hold together in any special way?"

"Against all the rest of the world, yes," said Magnus. "But we often choose our chums from the Antipodes."

"For private and personal reasons, rather than public; I see. But then of course you know them all, more or less; and so you must know the man I am after."

"A relation of yours, sir?" Magnus inquired gravely.

"Oh, no, not at all; only an acquaintance of a day and a night. But I should like to see him again very much; in fact that was why I stopped over a day here. I wonder if he is in the corps still? Must be, I think; he did not look like a fellow to be 'found' in anything,--unless caution and self-control."

"That's a bad showing," said Magnus. "I'd rather chance it in math."

"You must know him, of course, if he is here," Mr. Wayne went on; "for he was from your State, I know. I had his name down--and I also had my pocket-book stolen! Can you tell over the list of your State delegation?"

So Magnus began.

"Smith, J., 2d; Jones, L.; Devius, E.; Smith, T. A.; Marston, Kindred----"

"That's the man!" broke in Mr. Wayne; "Charlemagne Kindred. And you say he is here still?"

"Oh, yes, he's here," said Magnus, with a half groan.

"Doing well?"

"Doing all sorts of ways. He is just back from furlough, and as blue as a mouldy cheese."

"Back from furlough! Ah, then he has seen his mother again. That ought to cure him of doing 'all sorts of ways.' Where does he stand in his class?"

"Oh, he keeps out of the Immortals," said Magnus with a shrug. "Might max it oftener, if he didn't read so many magazines and write so many letters."

"Letters, hey? These 'left behind' girls have a good deal to answer for. And yet such a trust as a woman's life and happiness, ought to steady any man, and put him at his best."

"He has four just such trusts," said Magnus. "I don't know that they'd all die if he went to the bad, but two of them would."

"Four--you seem to know him very well," said Mr. Wayne, turning to look more narrowly at his companion.

"I don't know, sir: sometimes I think I do, sometimes not. He takes me all by surprise every now and then," said Magnus.

But with that he turned his eyes full upon Mr. Wayne, and the recognition was instant.

"And this is you!" said Mr. Wayne. "I see it now. Indeed I think I felt it all along. Sit over there, and let me look at you."

So Magnus changed his seat for another, and went through a new sort of inspection; differing _in toto_ from that of any member of the tactical department. For Mr. Wayne's eyes passed rapidly over grey cloth and bell buttons (Magnus feeling quite sure the while that any dulness or disorder there would have been noted) and came to the young face, with a look so searching and wise that the sunburnt cheeks reddened, and the eyes went down. Only for a moment, however: then they met the search squarely, and with a laugh.

"Yes, sir," said Cadet Kindred, "that is just about what I am."

Privately, Mr. Wayne had been thinking to himself that just what he saw was a remarkably fine-looking fellow, whom anybody might be proud to call son or brother. For the eyes were steady and true; and when the face broke in a smile or a laugh the mouth had the same utterly clean look which had marked it two years ago. Mr. Wayne noted it all, and drew a deep breath of rejoicing.

"I give most humble and hearty thanks," he said, reverently lifting his hat. Magnus sprang up and came back to his old seat.

"Were you so doubtful of me, sir?" he said. "And what made you doubtful?"

"Not doubtful of you, my boy, but certain of the world. And the world--even this little world here--is a hard place."

"This is an awful place!" said Magnus.

"You think so now, because you are just back from furlough. But you will find the world power in full force still, when you get to some far-off frontier post. Very few lives have a steady fair breeze straight into heaven. 'Ye must take the wind in your face if ye will fetch Christ,' said old Samuel Rutherford; and most of us find it so. But then, 'How sweet is the wind that bloweth out of the airth where Christ is.'"

And Magnus remembered instantly that ever since he came to West Point, he had hailed the west wind, because it seemed to come from home.

"How can you always tell, sir, whence it comes?" he asked suddenly. "Being disagreeable doesn't prove a thing right."

"Truly no. But you know what Christ himself is, Mr. Kindred; study him, his character, his will, his throne. It is not hard to match your colours, if you are really so minded. West Point is not so unlike everywhere else as you seem to think. I remember a young man who went from here to Texas, and wrote back that he was still fighting the world, the flesh, and the devil. Finding the world perhaps a little less down there, but the flesh and the devil about as usual. And so you will find it. 'The kingdom of God is within you'--not outside: whether at Governor's Island, or San Carlos."

"What makes you speak of San Carlos, sir?" Magnus said, with almost a start.

"One of the worst posts in the army, is it not?--or counted so?"

"I am not afraid of San Carlos," said Magnus decidedly. "The devil always has to clear out, when an angel comes in."

Mr. Wayne turned and looked at him.

"So!" he said; "that is all settled, is it? But no, my young sir: Satan held a dispute with an archangel once, long enough for some pretty strong words on both sides. And you are going to take an angel to San Carlos!"

Almost just what Mr. Erskine had said.

"Were you ever there, sir?" Magnus asked.

"Oh, yes."

"Doesn't the place need angels?"

And now Mr. Wayne laughed.

"You have the best of me there," he said. "Yes, not a doubt of that, it does. And it is the very place that the white wings love to brighten if they can. But Mr. Kindred, if your particular angel is to live at San Carlos--or anywhere--and not break her heart; spread her white wings and fly away from earth and you together; you have got to fight the devil yourself; hand to hand, and wherever you find him. These earthly angels are not quite so robust as the old painters make out the heavenly to be."

"She is the very centre of my life!" cried Magnus. But Mr. Wayne sighed.

"It happened once," he said, "that a young graduate of West Point brought his three-months' bride not to San Carlos, but to Fortress Monroe. Of course, the 'pleasant fellows' of the garrison went to work to entertain him, and one of them told me this story:

"'We had a little supper party,' he said. 'Not very large, but correct and choice; and we kept it up pretty late; and X. Y. got more than he could manage gracefully. So some of the stronger heads among us set out to get him home. Late, as I said; servants asleep, lights out, and I guess we knocked and rang more than once. Then X. Y.'s young wife came down, candle in hand, to let him in. Poor girl--I did feel sorry for her when I saw her white face, as the candle flared out upon him.'"

There came up before Charlemagne Kindred, as his friend spoke, the vision of another face; so blanched, so stricken in its grief, and all for him. He bowed his head upon his hands.

Mr. Wayne asked never a word. He looked at the fine young man beside him, not knowing just what he might have touched, and then away over the fair hills and the soft flowing river. What a world! Peace written everywhere on the exquisite setting; and everywhere in the picture the sharp life and death conflict. Then the glad words in the Revelation made answer:

"And I saw, and, behold, a white horse; and he that sat on him had a bow: and he went forth, conquering and to conquer."

"Amen!" Mr. Wayne said aloud: adding half under his breath: "'Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might flow down at thy presence!'"

Magnus looked up in surprise.

"Only an old habit of mine," Mr. Wayne said, smiling at him. "I live so much alone, that I very often talk to myself for lack of a listener."

"Do you want to see these mountains flow down?" Magnus asked, gazing in his turn at the fair hills.

"Not these in themselves; only I long for all which the prophet's words imply. To see the crooked made straight, and the rough places plain; to hear the royal proclamation of the Prince of Peace sound out across this burdened earth; one could be willing to have 'every mountain and island' moved out of their places. To have that trumpet blast fill all the air:

"'The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever.'"

"No more miserable captives to the power of evil; no more strong men 'whom Satan hath bound at his own will."

"No midnight shades, no clouded sun, But sacred, high, eternal noons."

"How naturally the words follow:

"'We give thee thanks, O Lord, because thou hast taken to thee thy great power, and hast reigned.'"

Then Magnus began and told him the whole story; pouring out details, and not sparing himself in the least. And Mr. Wayne listened in deepest silence, with a grave, tender face which drew on confidence. Magnus did not once name Cherry, only at the end he said:

"I told her everything. And if I thought I should ever again make her look as she did then, I think I would shoot myself."

"Powder is very cheap," Mr. Wayne said slowly. "It is the meanest, smallest, silliest back door through which a man ever shirked his difficulties. But to live a strong life, to have one's self in hand and keep a tight rein, that costs, and costs tremendously; demands a man's whole will-power, and the mighty grace of God. There is no promise whatever to the one who runs away; they are all: 'To him that overcometh.'"

"Yes sir, I know," Magnus answered him. "But instead of costing, it seems to me the only life that pays."

"And where do you get dividends, but from investments?" said Mr. Wayne quickly. "You gain from what you put in: knowledge from study, health from exercise, advance from toil. You bone discipline, and you stand one; you bone mathematics, and you max it every time."

"No, you don't," said Magnus. "Not some of us."