k shook his head smilingly, and was terribly abashed. They waited a
few moments longer--moments, during which a girl's face seemed to be
looking at Dick with wistful, tender eyes--the same woman that Ormsby
loved. And he saw, too, in a blurred mist, a vision of carnage and
bloodshed that was horribly unnecessary and unjust. He could not explain
all his reasons for evading this opportunity--that he was only just
engaged, was in debt, and could not afford the money for his outfit. It
needed some courage to sit there and say nothing.

"Fill him up a glass of champagne, a stiff one--it will give him some
Dutch courage," remarked Captain Ormsby _sotto voce_, but loud enough for
the others to hear, and they laughed awkwardly at the implied taunt of
cowardice. Burly Jack Lorrimer, who stood by Dick's side and had had
quite enough to drink, seized a bottle jocularly; Ormsby took it from
him, and, leaning forward, was about to fill Dick's glass, when the young
man jumped to his feet.

There was the beginning of a luke-warm cheer--arrested instantly, for
Dick turned in a fury on Captain Ormsby, and struck him a blow in the
face with the flat of his hand that resounded through the room. Then, he
kicked his chair back, and strode to the door just behind him.

The colonel angrily hushed the murmurs of excitement that ensued, and
with considerable tact proceeded to make a short speech to the volunteers
as though nothing had happened.

The whole scene lasted only fifteen minutes. The ugly incident at the
table was with one accord ignored, and the wine was attacked with vigor,
everybody drinking everybody else's health. The captain was inwardly
satisfied; for had he not succeeded in publicly branding his rival in
love as a coward?

Dick Swinton went striding home, a prey to the bitterest humiliation. He
had allowed his temper to get the better of him, and had disgraced
himself in the eyes of his fellows.

And the forget-me-not in his pocket! That had had much to do with it, of
course. It was a silent appeal from the girl he loved, who had been his
own, his very own, for only twenty-four sweet hours. He took out her
letter, which he had not yet perused, and read it under a street
lamp--the letter of a soldier's daughter, born and reared among
soldiers.

DEAREST, Of course you must go. Don't consider me. All the others
are going. Our secret must remain sacred until your return. Your
country calls, and her claim comes even b