shoulder? Do you see me going on errands for the men I've hazed, and
showing them my socks and shirts at inspection so they can give me a
good mark for being a clean and tidy soldier? No! I'll not enlist. If
I'm not good enough to carry a sword I'm not good enough to carry a
gun, and the United States Army can struggle along without me."

Beatrice shook her head.

"Don't say anything you'll be sorry for, Royal," she warned me.

"You don't understand," I interrupted. "I'm not saying anything
against my own country or our army--how can I? I've proved clearly
enough that I'm not fit for it. I'm only too grateful, I've had three
years in the best military school in the world, at my country's
expense, and I'm grateful. Yes, and I'm miserable, too, that I have
failed to deserve it."

I stood up and straightened my shoulders. "But perhaps there are other
countries less difficult to please," I said, "where I can lose myself
and be forgotten, and where I can see service. After all, a soldier's
business is to fight, not to sit at a post all day or to do a clerk's
work at Washington."

Even as I spoke these chance words I seemed to feel the cloud of
failure and disgrace passing from me. I saw vaguely a way to redeem
myself, and, though I had spoken with bravado and at random, the words
stuck in my mind, and my despondency fell from me like a heavy
knapsack.

"Come," I said, cheerfully, "there can be no talk of a holiday for me