"No more miserable captives to the power of evil; no more strong men 'whom Satan hath bound at his own will." "No midnight shades, no clouded sun, But sacred, high, eternal noons." "How naturally the words follow: "'We give thee thanks, O Lord, because thou hast taken to thee thy great power, and hast reigned.'" Then Magnus began and told him the whole story; pouring out details, and not sparing himself in the least. And Mr. Wayne listened in deepest silence, with a grave, tender face which drew on confidence. Magnus did not once name Cherry, only at the end he said: "I told her everything. And if I thought I should ever again make her look as she did then, I think I would shoot myself." "Powder is very cheap," Mr. Wayne said slowly. "It is the meanest, smallest, silliest back door through which a man ever shirked his difficulties. But to live a strong life, to have one's self in hand and keep a tight rein, that costs, and costs tremendously; demands a man's whole will-power, and the mighty grace of God. There is no promise whatever to the one who runs away; they are all: 'To him that overcometh.'" "Yes sir, I know," Magnus answered him. "But instead of costing, it seems to me the only life that pays." "And where do you get dividends, but from investments?" said Mr. Wayne quickly. "You gain from what you put in: knowledge from study, health from exercise, advance from toil. You bone discipline, and you stand one; you bone mathematics, and you max it every time." "No, you don't," said Magnus. "Not some of us." "Yes you do. Not all just alike, perhaps; one man puts in more brains than another, and so maybe gets larger returns; but the slower fellow maxes it _for him_; the dividends are as large as the stock will warrant. And to my mind, that is the only ambition worth a copper. I've no patience with this trying to get ahead of somebody else in any line. Get ahead of yourself; break your own record." "Not making other men your measure," Magnus said. "No. That's the way Paul puts it: 'I press toward the mark for the prize'; not to get ahead of Peter or James or John. The colour markers always in advance, flagging out new ground." "What do you count a man's colour markers, sir?" Magnus said, looking amused. "Perhaps clean purpose of heart and loyalty to God would come near it. The Great Captain has thrown open to you--to every young man--a wondrous Promised Land. He says: 'Go in and possess it. Ye are well able to overcome.' The land is not all 'fish and cucumbers and melons,' with a good deal of garlic, like the Egypt degradation and bondage; but 'a goodly land of springs and fountains, of oil olive and honey; whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.' I do not believe you cadets are half aggressive enough." "In what way, sir?" "Every way. Suppose your colour markers had been up to their duty on that sad night, and you pressing forward for the Lord's 'Well done.'"