"Grandfather," he said, "I think if you won't need me for a while I'll
enlist to-morrow."

"I can get along all right," said the old man, "but I'm sorry you're
going."

The older man was looking at the younger one narrowly. Suddenly and
bluntly he asked:--

"Is anything the matter with you and Ethel Harvey?"

Jim nodded, and without further invitation or questioning he related the
whole incident. "That's all there is to it," he concluded. "The team had
bolted and she wouldn't give me the reins; so I took them away from her
and pulled in the horses. There was nothing else to do."

"And then she said she hated you," added Jonathan, musingly. "I reckon she
hasn't much sense."

"It ain't that," Jim answered quickly. "She's got sense enough. The
trouble with her is she's too damned plucky."

A few days later he was a private in the Nineteenth Indiana Volunteers. He
made a good soldier, for not only did he love danger as had his
great-grandfather before him, but he had nerves which months of inaction
could not set jangling, and a constitution which hardship and privation
could not undermine.

The keenest delight he had ever known came with his first experience under