and she reminded him of Ruth. She had pansy-blue eyes and long gold ripples in her abundant hair. It soothed him like a gentle hand on his heart to hear her speak those words of prayer to God, praying for them all as if they were her own brothers, praying as if she understood just how they felt this night before they went on their way. She was so young and gently cared for, this girl with her plain soldier's uniform, and her fearlessness, praying as composedly out there under fire as if she trusted perfectly that her heavenly Father had control of everything and would do the best for them all. What a wonderful girl! Or, no--was it perhaps a wonderful trust? Stay, was it not perhaps a wonderful heavenly Father? And she had found Him? Perhaps she could tell him the way and how he had missed it in his search! With this thought in his mind he lingered as the most of the rest passed out, and turning he noticed that the man who had come with him lingered also, and edged up to the front where the lassie stood talking with a group of men. Then one of the group spoke up boldly: "Say, Cap," he addressed her almost reverently, as if he had called her some queenly name instead of captain, "say, Cap, I want to ask you a question. Some of those fellows that preached to us have been telling us that if we go over there, and don't come back it'll be all right with us, just because we died fighting for liberty. But we don't believe that dope. Why--d'ye mean to tell me, Cap, that if a fellow has been rotten all his life he gets saved just because he happened to get shot in a battle? Why some of us didn't even come over here to fight because we wanted to; we had to, we were drafted. Do you mean to tell me that makes it all right over here? I can't see that at all. And we want to know the truth. You dope it out for us, Cap." The young captain lassie slowly shook her head: "No, just dying doesn't save you, son." There was a note of tenderness in that "son" as those Salvation Army lassies spoke it, that put them infinitely above the common young girl, as if some angelic touch had set them apart for their holy ministry. It was as if God were using their lips and eyes and spirits to speak to these, his children, in their trying hour. "You see, it's this way. Everybody has sinned, and the penalty of sin is death. You all know that?" Her eyes searched their faces, and appealed to the truth hidden in the depths of their souls. They nodded, those boys who were going out soon to face death. They were willing to tell her that they acknowledged their sins. They did not mind if they said it before each other. They meant it now. Yes, they were sinners and it was because they knew they were that they wanted to know what chances they stood in the other world.