But David has managed to subdue Pickle, who goes no longer to the buzzards' counters, and though he complains that the struggle is hard, he admits that the results pay. No more pains for him. So yesterday, though at the sight of the crisp pie Pickle's eye wandered toward the pastry booth outside the gate, when he caught David's warning glance he controlled himself and went on with his work. It was here at Cadyville that, for the first time since leaving Plattsburg, we were able to have a real swim, or rather (since the water was like ice) we found depth enough and room enough for all. Over a meadow and down a bluff a path led from camp to a big paper mill which stood above a gorge of the Saranac River. The huge pile of pulp, at which men were picking and prying with pickaxe and canthook, ought to be a gold mine in these days of high prices of paper. Beyond was the dam, higher than a house on its clear side and (so we were told) of equal depth on the other. Along the sides of the big basin there was room for the whole regiment; and the dive from the dam--how the men yelled when their heads came out, and how they swam to get ashore again! Our last afternoon in camp! We felt that we had earned repose after a day's hard work--a month's hard work! No more skirmishing among rocks, stumps, and barbed wire; no more firing of the gun, and no more cleaning of it. As we wished to hand the guns back in good condition, and as most of our patches and oil had given out, many of us took the friendly offers of the regulars (cavalrymen, bandsmen, cooks) who did the best business, working in pairs, that they had yet done. Even David relaxed the severity of his self-discipline, and handed out his gun and his quarter-dollar. We lolled, we talked thoughtfully, we already regretted. Men exchanged addresses, and made appointments for the distant future. I noticed that the squad kept pretty close together, as if knowing that soon it must separate for good. And now, rather seriously, the men are getting ready for the last Retreat. (_Evening._) We have had our final conference, in a little amphitheatre at one side of the camp. As the dusk fell the General talked to us for the last time. He took up the subject of preparedness where he left it yesterday--what are we to do to face an emergency, all our present methods failing, the emergency, if it comes, sure to be so frightful? The old volunteer system has broken down in each of our wars--the Revolutionary, the war of 1812, the Mexican, the Civil. We have seen it, before our eyes, break down in England now. The volunteer system is unfair--why should one man fight for another equally fit? It is therefore undemocratic. There is only one thing left, universal training for all young men, and conscription in war of all of military age.