of a hero. She had no
realization of the beautiful picture she presented, with the light
falling softly upon her hair and animated, face. But Reynolds knew,
and as his eyes met hers, he became slightly confused, and hesitated in
his story. What a reward, he told himself, for all that he had
endured. He had been happy when the decorations were pinned upon his
breast. But that reward was nothing, and the medals mere baubles
compared to the joy he was experiencing now. If the love of such a
woman had been his during the long, weary campaign, what might he not
have accomplished? How he would have been inspired to do and to dare,
and in addition to those medals there might have been the coveted
Victoria Cross.

"Oh, I wish I were a man!" Glen fervently declared when Reynolds had
finished his tale. "How I would like to have been 'over there.' You
needn't smile, daddy," she continued. "I know you consider me foolish,
but I mean every word I say."

"I understand, dear," was the quiet reply. "I know just how you feel,
for it is only natural. However, I am glad that you are not a man, for
you are of greater comfort to me because you are a girl. But, there, I
think we have talked enough for to-night. You both must be tired after
to-day's journey, and we have a hard trip ahead of us to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXIII

AT THE REVOLVER'S POINT

Glen awoke early the next morning, tired and depressed. She had slept
but little during the night, for her old fears had returned as she
recalled the dream and Klota's warning. Her excitement over Reynolds'
story assisted, too, in driving sleep from her eyes, and she pictured
him on the field of battle, with shells dropping on every side. He was
the one who stood out in clear relief above all others. To her he was
the hero in every scene, and she saw all looking to him for inspiration
and guidance. The glamor of love and hero-worship enwrapped her a
willing victim in its enchanting embrace.

Reynolds was quick to notice the tired expression in Glen's eyes and
the lack of color in her cheeks as she came forth from her room and
took her place at the table.

"What's wrong, dear?" her father anxiously enquired. "Didn't you sleep
well?"

"I didn't sleep at all, daddy. Perhaps it was yesterday's excitement
which kept me awake."

"Then, you must not go with us to-day, Glen. You stay here, and Sconda
can remain with you. That will delight the old fellow, for he has be