“Now, the situation is this: I know. The government doesn’t want to know. It’s my business to fight and whip the foes of my country. It’s my government’s to keep out of more than one fight at a time. That’s all right—but when I can kill two bears with one ball, it’s better than killing one of them and wounding the other. The British are swarming in Pensacola. They are our enemy, and once securely entrenched there they will entrench from the Rio Grande to Mobile Bay. Then it will be too late. In driving them from Pensacola I’ll drive out Spain at the same time and hold it so securely that Spain may bluff for a while, but will finally give in—and Florida will be ours.” And so he smoked and walked, planning it all out, and in an hour it was arranged, and the General grew calmer and sat down again. “Now, while we are gone, the election will come off. To-day you had Bristow beat—” “_You_ had him beat, General,” the younger man smiled for the first time. The General gave his first chuckle. The ice was broken. “But now—” began the General. “I am out of the race, sir,” said Trevellian, rising. “I shall so announce it to-morrow. I am going with you and fight,” he added. The General arose quickly: “No, you are not out of it, Jack—not while I am about.” “What do you mean, General?” He came over and stood face to face with the older man. “Let us be seated,” said the other. “I will go into detail. Bristow remained with us for supper to-night—” The younger man was still silent. “But first, Jack, shall I tell you all?” Jack nodded. “It was a little thing—perhaps I should not speak of it. Mrs. Jackson says”—and he smiled—“that for an old Indian fighter I am taking on a lot of romance since I returned, and that you two have caused it. Well, my heart is in this thing, and you know it. But I loved Templeton and I love you, my boy.” The other bowed his head reverently. “The girl loves you, Jack; I know it. I know when a woman loves. She is wretched to-night. Why, didn’t I see her when she came home—in spite of Bristow, everybody—everything—with her face set like a flint monument in grief. To-night she was weeping in her room. Mrs. Jackson told me—by God, but you have broken her heart, and you must tell me, Jack.” Jack arose hastily and walked the room in silent agitation. At last he stopped and stood before the other. “I cannot, my General—my God, I cannot! Blame me, cut me off from your esteem and friendship as I am already cut off from hers. This thing is between me and my Maker. “No man,” said the General, rising, “has the right to ask of you things which are between you and your God. I do not want to know—and this —is—” “And I cannot tell you anything, my friend—my more than friend.” He stood before his father’s picture—the Trevellian portrait that hung above them on the wall. He bowed his head in the agony of it all. “I have never kept anything from you before, and you know how hard it is for me to do this, but—”