might have envied. Then came the command, "Count off!" followed by,
"Fours left--march!" and the squad swung smartly down the parade-ground.

In the half-hour of manoeuvering which followed--and this included
some fairly difficult formations for new recruits--every boy gave the
best that was in him. And when it was all over, the expression on Mr.
Thornton's face was quite reward enough. At the command, "Fall out!" they
surged around him, shaking him by the hand, thanking him exuberantly,
and all trying at once to tell him how much more wonderful everything
was than they had expected.

The council-fire that night was built out on the point instead of in
the great stone fireplace. Because of Mr. Thornton's presence, a
special program had been arranged. There were scout games and stunts in
abundance, songs galore, and a number of other features which had
proved effective last summer. But it wasn't quite all gaiety and
careless amusement. Mingling with the joking and laughter and occasional
bit of skylarking was a touch of sober seriousness. It was their last
night in camp together. Moreover, from that momentous Tuesday things
had never been really quite the same. Their daily drills and practice
were rousing in them a sense of responsibility. They knew that all
over the country preparations for war were being pushed energetically.
There had been time also, to hear from home--of how this brother talked
of enlisting in the marines, or that cousin, a member of Captain
Chalmers's own regiment, who had been ordered to hold himself in
readiness to join the colors. And so at the end, standing shoulder to
shoulder around the blaze, their young voices ringing out in the
stirring strains of "America," more than one throat tightened, and there
were few who did not feel a tingling thrill beyond the thrill those
verses usually evoked.

There came a pause. Then slowly John Thornton rose and stood for a moment
facing them in silence.

"I want to thank you, boys," he said at length, in tones which emotion
had rendered brusk and almost harsh. "It--it has been a privilege and
more than pleasure to see your surprising work this afternoon and to
be with you in this way to-night. I am proud of you--prouder than you
can ever know. I can say nothing more than this," and his voice rang
out suddenly with a note that stirred them inexplicably: "If only the
youth of our country will measure up to your standards in the crisis
that is before us, we