that he had not accomplished in reality--the acquaintances he had made
among the leaders of men, the adventures he had suffered, the honors
he had won, were those which to me were the most to be desired.

[Illustration: The moon rose over the camp ... but still we sat.]

The scene around us added color to his words. The moonlight fell on
ghostly groups of men seated before the camp-fires, their faces
glowing in the red light of the ashes; on the irregular rows of
thatched shelters and on the shadowy figures of the ponies grazing at
the picket-line. All the odors of a camp, which to me are more
grateful than those of a garden, were borne to us on the damp night-
air; the clean pungent smell of burning wood, the scent of running
water, the smell of many horses crowded together and of wet saddles
and accoutrements. And above the swift rush of the stream, we could
hear the ceaseless pounding of the horses' hoofs on the turf, the
murmurs of the men's voices, and the lonely cry of the night-birds.

It was past midnight when the General rose, and my brain rioted with
the pictures he had drawn for me. Surely, if I had ever considered
turning back, I now no longer tolerated the thought of it. If he had
wished to convince me that the life of a soldier of fortune was an
ungrateful one he had set about proving it in the worst possible way.
At that moment I saw no career so worthy to be imitated as his own, no
success to be so envied as his failures. And in the glow and
inspiration of his talk, and with the courage of a boy, I told him so.
I think he was not ill pleased at what I said, nor with me. He seemed
to approve of what I had related of myself, and of the comments I had
made upon his reminiscences. He had said, again and again: "That is an
intelligent question," "You have put your finger on the real weakness