Then on the nearer side there gathered a grey and white swarm of figures; the furlough men spread themselves in a long single line, and, joining hands, began to double-time it across the plain. The grey figures dashed out across what was afterwards the famous "Post No. 6," swooped down upon the furlough men, and "rushed them into camp." There followed ten minutes of utter Babel-like confusion; hats, caps, handbags, and men were on the ground or in the air, as the case might be. I think Mr. Starr lost his foothold on firm earth several times, while Magnus Kindred made things just as lively for one or two small first classmen. Men hugged each other or shook hands, according to the various degrees of size and friendship. The ladies on the seats clapped hands; the yearlings, on their way to dancing, turned and gave a cheer. Then the hubbub was over. The furlough men dived into their tents, and came forth to dinner roll-call full blown cadets, with very sober faces. The rush helped them for the minute, but it could not last; they were a sorry-looking lot. Charlemagne Kindred came out too, after a while (anything but his own thoughts!), and was most effusively greeted by Miss Beguile and Miss Saucy. But being promptly bid to stand and deliver a full, true, and unvarnished account of the summer's work and play, he got off as soon as he could and took his sergeant's chevrons and his loneliness down Flirtation for a walk. How unbearable these average girls were to him after Cherry! Cherry, with her quaint, womanly ways, and low-toned voice, and earnest eyes; a hundred times fairer in her fresh print dress than they with all their silks and streamers! "A trust"--ah, she was one worth having. And it was with a very moved and joyful heart that Cadet Kindred realised how surely upon his keeping of that trust, hung all the joy and brightness of her sweet life. Hers--and theirs; four true women looking up to him. On the whole, it was a very good bit of thinking the young sergeant did there, with the lovely river sweeping by at his feet, and the leaves in a glad rustle behind him. Yes, every new bit of honour that he could win, in any line, would be gilded anew for them. He must send them a correct drawing of even the new chevrons. Magnus again mounted the hill, but at the edge of the broken ground he faced about and took off his cap to the flag. "Glad to see you, old friend!" he said. "Henceforth, you and I are going to run things together. I'm enlisted now, for all the storms that blow." XXXVIII HIGH GROUND But never sit we down and say, "There's nothing left but sorrow." We walk the Wilderness to-day, The promised Land to-morrow. --GERALD MASSEY. There was much wedging and crowding in the camp that night, lightened somewhat by the big hop which shortened the night for so many. Not for Magnus. He went to bed, thinking the night would be two nights long: quite sure he should not close his eyes.