"Armies are seldom large enough for each man to have another man detailed to look after him," said Mr. Wayne drily. Magnus made no answer. He paced up and down the long station house by his friend's side, swinging his little handbag with an air that was not all of enjoyment. "It's a hard place, then, isn't it?" "There are no easy places in this world, so far as I know," answered Mr. Wayne. "Not for men who wish to get on. There are a few where you can stand still. West Point is not one of those. Back or forward you must go, there. But there is no hardest place on earth that 'work and pray' will not carry a man gloriously through." "Well, mother has taught me the one, and I guess I'll soon pick up the other," said Magnus. "I'm not afraid of work, if I _am_ rather lazy." "Magnus," said his friend suddenly, "when you get to West Point I want you to make friends with the flag." "All right," said the boy, laughing. "Do they fly the flag all the time? That is glorious!" "They fly it all the time, in all weathers; from the small storm flag in a gale, to the bunting thirty-six feet long, on a holiday. What would you think, if they hauled the flag down every time someone came by who did not like it?" "I should say, 'Shoot the man who touched the halyards'!" said Magnus. "Suppose the passerby was from a powerful nation that we feared to offend?" "There is no such nation!" said the boy, drawing himself up. "But Young America can _suppose_, for the argument's sake," said Mr. Wayne, smiling. "Hard thing to do, sir," laughed Magnus. "However, I'll suppose, as you say. And I say, the man would come down, a long sight ahead of the Stars and Stripes. I'd risk offending anybody, for the flag." Mr. Wayne paused and faced him. "Magnus," he said, "I have just three words for you at West Point. Work, pray, and keep your colours flying! Good-bye; the doors are open." So they parted, and soon the cry was, "All aboard!" and the train moved slowly out of the Grand Central. V THE FLAG What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam Of the morning's first beam; In full glory reflected now shines on the stream. --FRANCIS KEY. It is not a particularly interesting bit of road at first, as you leave the great city, going north. The tunnel, the gleams and glooms in the long passage under ever-arching streets; and whatever the Harlem end of New York may have been, it is not delightsome to look upon now.