stepped outside of the tent and stood looking up at the stars, with my
grandfather's sword clasped close in my hands. And I was so proud and
happy that I believe I almost prayed that he could look down and see
me.

That was how I received my first commission--in a swamp in Honduras,
from General Laguerre, of the Foreign Legion, as he lay half-asleep
upon his cot. It may be, if I continue as I have begun, I shall
receive higher titles, from ministers of war, from queens, presidents,
and sultans. I shall have a trunk filled, like that of General
Laguerre's, with commissions, brevets, and patents of nobility, picked
up in many queer courts, in many queer corners of the globe.
But to myself I shall always be Captain Macklin, and no other rank nor
title will ever count with me as did that first one, which came
without my earning it, which fell from the lips of an old man without
authority to give it, but which seemed to touch me like a benediction.

. . . . . . . . . .

The officer from whom I took over my troop was a German, Baron Herbert
von Ritter. He had served as an aide-de-camp to the King of Bavaria,
and his face was a patchwork of sword-cuts which he had received in
the students' duels. No one knew why he had left the German army. He
had been in command of the troop with the rank of captain, but when
the next morning Laguerre called him up and told him that I was now
his captain he seemed rather relieved than otherwise.

"They're a hard lot," he said to me, as we left the General. "I'm glad
to get rid of them."