Mix up a barrel of sand and ashes and thorns, and jam scorpions and rattlesnakes along in, and dump the outfit on stones, and heat the stones red hot; and set the United States army loose over the place chasin' Apaches; and you've got San Carlos.

—U. S. Soldier, in Harper's Magazine.

And I suppose so it was; the task was really ended when the idea came in. A strong protector for his darling when his own care should fail, had been the longing in Mr. Erskine's heart for many a day, and Magnus Kindred had always been second only to Cherry in his heart. Yet to give her up before the time, and, instead of leaving her, to have her leave him, it was sharp enough. No wonder he knit his brows now and then in the midst of all the gaiety, and almost put out a hand between his child and this youngster who claimed such rights and took them with such assurance. No wonder if he frowned a little now, to-day, as Magnus came whistling up, and throwing himself down on a lower step of the porch, waited for the older man to speak.

But for a while the silence was unbroken, as Mr. Erskine made a sort of final examination; obliged to come back to the judgment he had given weeks ago, that Charlemagne Kindred was "a splendid fellow." The critical eyes could find no fault.

Very serious the face was now, as he sat there looking off, schooling himself to patient waiting, once in a while almost starting up at some sound of Cherry's voice or step within the house. I am afraid Mr. Erskine took a malign pleasure in keeping him where he was. The malignity was not deep, however, for once, when some scrap of a song floated down from an open upstairs window, there came a look over the face of Cadet Charlemagne Kindred—a sudden light and love and joy—to which the father's eyes gave such sympathetic answer that he was fain to screen them with his hand.

"Well, young sir," he began at last, "I suppose you want to know what I have to say to you?"

"Yes, sir. Furlough ends next week," Magnus answered, without looking round.

"Then back for two years more?"

"Back for two years, sir."

"Magnus, what sort of an inner life have you lived at West Point? They have made a soldier of you outwardly; we can all see so much; but it is possible for a man to be that, and yet have no soldier's heart within."

Magnus coloured deeply.

"Yes, sir," he said. "I know it. And that has been true of me a few times, Mr. Erskine. Never but once in any great thing."

"There are no little things in right and wrong, boy."

"No, sir. I should have said, in what people call great."

Mr. Erskine was silent with sudden pain; he had not looked for such an answer. Then Magnus turned round, and sat facing him, looking full up.

"I have told Cherry the whole thing, straight through," he said; "and now I will tell you, sir, if you wish."

Mr. Erskine drew a breath of relief. If he had told Cherry, it could be nothing very bad; and that he had told her half cleared it away.

"No, do not tell me," he said. "If Cherry knows, that is enough. But, Magnus, I never expected you to lack the soldier heart!" The boy's eyes flushed, and his lips were unsteady as he said:

"Nor I, sir. You cannot possibly be half so disappointed in me as I was in myself."

There was a long pause. What that bit of schooling was to Magnus it would be hard to describe; but he said not a word to shorten it. With head well up, and eyes looking gravely off at the fair landscape, of which they saw not a thing, so he sat; and Mr. Erskine watched him. His whole heart went out to the boy in tenderness and up for him in prayer. Not a hero in his own right, perhaps, but a better, stronger thing is the man whom God keeps, and who trusts the Lord for all power to keep himself.

"The people that know their God, shall be strong and do exploits."

"You told Cherry," the elder man began at length. "And what did Cherry say?"

"Broke my heart into little pieces," said Magnus briefly.

It was Mr. Erskine's turn to have wet eyes, though he smiled too.

"So!" he said. "My boy, did you ever realise that you might break her heart?"

"Don't ask me to realise it any more than I do, sir," Magnus answered, with a troubled voice. "You see she minds things that some people call trifles."

"Like a true woman," said Mr. Erskine. "I am glad she does."

"So am I!" said Magnus, with hearty emphasis. "There is not a thing about her that I am not glad of. But I have told her everything, Mr. Erskine," he added, "and she forgives me."

"Like a woman again," thought the father. "And she is ready to go with you to San Carlos?"

"I don't know why you will persist in sending me there, sir," Magnus said, with just a touch of impatience. "That seems to be your favourite post. We have not spoken of San Carlos."

"No, I suppose all your talk has been of Fortress Monroe, Governor's Island, and West Point," said Mr. Erskine, in a mocking tone. "Those are the usual first posts for young second lieutenants."

"West Point!" Magnus repeated scornfully. "If you had the faintest idea, Mr. Erskine, what West Point is without Cherry, you would know that San Carlos will be the ranking post in the country when she gets there!"

And the young man sprang to his feet, as if tenter hooks were restless things.

Mr. Erskine held out his hand. "Forgive me, my boy," he said. "I will not tease you any more. Go and find my treasure—and take her for your treasure, and guard her with your life. I do not mean in the common sense of dying for her, but in the nobler, costlier way of living for her. Shield her from any touch of shame, from any sense of loss, from any shadow of pain or sorrow that is not Heaven-sent. Live so that she will be prouder of you every day. Magnus, my darling is a trust."

There was something very sweet and solemn too in the way Magnus took the extended hand, and dropping on his knee kissed it earnestly.

"As such I take her, sir. My most dear trust, for every hour I live."

But then he sprang up again, threw his arms round Mr. Erskine with a hug like a young bear, and with a joyous shout of "Ho for San Carlos!" darted away into the house to find Cherry.