"That Morton's the missing son and heir? Of course. Now that I've seen Miss Prime the family resemblance is strong. But if he wanted to soldier, what's to prevent. Those tents yawnduh are full of youngsters better educated than I am," and Gordon arose, tangling a long, lean leg in the nearest campstool, which he promptly kicked through the doorway into the sailing fog outside. It was barely eleven o'clock, but already the raw, wet wind was whistling in over the barren, sandy slopes and dunes, and the moisture dripped in big drops from the sloped rifles of the men marching sturdily in from drill. "Yawnduh comes the Prime carriage now, by George," continued the adjutant, as he limped to the entrance. "Ole man seems all broke up, don't he?" Armstrong had promptly risen and came striding to his comrade's side. "Naturally," was the answer. "He had hoped much from this visit. The boy was just under twenty-one when he enlisted, and, as his father's consent was lacking, a discharge could have been ordered. It may have been fear of that that drove the youngster off. Where is the carriage--and your glass?" continued the colonel, looking about until he found a binocular. "Comin' right down the road back of the officers' tents. Reckon it's another visit of condolence to Gray. You know I shouldn't wonduh if this arrest of his proved a blessin' in disguise for that lucky boy." No reply coming to this observation, Gordon glanced over his shoulder. Armstrong was replacing the glasses. Again the adjutant hazarded. "I--I was sayin' this arrest may be, after all, the biggest kind of blessing in disguise for that lucky Billy. _Yes_, by Jove! They're comin' to his tent. _That's_ a splendid girl, ole man!" "Miss--Prime, you mean?" calmly queried Armstrong, striking match after match in the effort to light a fresh cigar, his face averted. "Miss Prime I _don't_ mean," answered Gordon, glancing curiously at the senior officer. "Not but that she's a most charming young lady and all that," he hurriedly interpolated, Southern chivalry asserting itself. Then with a twitch about the lip: "By the way, ole man, those cigars light better from the other end. Take a fresh one." Armstrong quickly withdrew the ill-used weed from between his strong, white teeth, gave it one glance, and a toss into the waste-basket. "No, I've smoked enough. But how can they see him? How about that sentry over Gray's tent?" "Huh! Chief made him take it off directly he heard of it," grinned Gordon. "Moses! But didn't Squeers blaspheme!" And the adjutant threw his head back and laughed joyously over the retrospect. "Yes, there's that curly pate of Billy's at the tent door now. Reckon he was expectin' 'em. There they are, ole Prime, too. Don't be in a hurry, colonel."