xpressions, did crowds of pretty girls who gazed adoringly
at all those soldiers in the making. It worried me a little, just when
the music was at its noblest, that a man in a motor _char-a-bancs_ or
something huge and touristy should be telling his victims how West Point
had been "the key to the Hudson," and what a fatal blow would have been
dealt to hopes of independence if Benedict Arnold could have handed it
over to the British. I thought he glared at Jack as he delivered this
lecture, guessing perhaps by the shape of his particularly nice nose
that he's a Britisher. But just then the sunset gun was fired, echoing
again and again among the mountains. All the female victims squeaked and
stopped their ears, and the man jumped, so that Jack was saved.

You, who have happy memories of Flirtation Walk, will pity Pat when I
tell you that her sensitive conscience made her consent to walk there
with Ed Caspian after dinner, Jack and Peter Storm and I following at a
respectful distance. Peter could hardly bear it. I suppose the moonlight
on the water glinting far under the high cliff walk and the bitter-sweet
scent of the ferns went to his head. He forgot that we'd all planned
together this way of disgusting Pat with what she thought her
duty--throwing her so constantly with Caspian that she'd find out all
his faults. But when Peter was leading up to some excuse for joining the
pair in front, Jack reminded him that if ever the medicine could be
beneficial to the poor little patient it would be in such a scene, and
on such a night made for love and happiness.

Mrs. Shuster and Larry and Idonia were walking, too. I believe Larry had
intended to take Idonia alone, having advised Lily to rest, but Lily
passionately refused to rest. Fancy her on Flirtation Walk!

West Point is a _witching_ place to spend a night in, even though a
dance--or a "hop," or whatever they call it--is going on, and _you're_
not invited!

Next morning, after lingering again at Battle Point to drink in as
lovely a view as the world can give, we dashed off once more. It was
just the hour of "Guard mount," and the cadets looked too fascinating.
The girls gazed at them as if they were the heroes of a hundred battles,
and so, in a way, they were and are: at least, as West Pointers they're
heirs to those who fought a hundred battles. Jack read in some book that
out of sixty battles in the Civil War fifty-six had for commanders men
from West Point--and not al