ittle success had upon him a bracing effect, and gave him a
certain prestige among his comrades. He did well also at revolver and
musketry practice--better than many men who, though good enough shots at
Bisley, found sectional practice with the service rifle a difficult job,
were adepts at missing a mark with the revolver, and knew nothing of
fire discipline. Because he had set an aim before him on which he knew
that his future happiness depended, he was able to put his whole heart
into everything he did. In the simplest duty he saw a means to an end
which he desired intensely. Everything that lay to hand in the life
of the soldier was building material which he must use to the best
advantage. He knew fully, for the first time, the joy of work.

On a day in the middle of February the "Ariosto" passed the mail-boat
from the Cape bound for England, sighted Table Mountain, and came to
anchor between Robben Island and the docks. On the following morning
the men of the C.I.V. felt the earth with eager feet as they marched to
Green Point Camp.

CHAPTER III

"Robin," said Rosamund, "would you like to go and live in the country?"

Robin looked very serious and, after a moment of silent consideration,
remarked:

"Where there's no houses?"

"Some houses, but not nearly so many as here."

"Would Mr. Thrush be there?"

"Well no, I'm afraid he wouldn't."

Robin began to look decidedly adverse to the proposition.

"You see Mr. Thrush has always lived in London," began Rosamund
explanatorily.

"But so've we," interrupted Robin.

"But we aren't as old as Mr. Thrush."

"Is he very old, mummie? How old is he?"

"I don't know, but he's a very great deal older than you are."

"I s'poses," observed Robin meditatively, slightly wrinkling his little
nose where the freckles were. "Well, mummie?"

"Old people don't generally like to move about much, but I think it
would be very good for you and me to go into the country while father's
away."

And taking Robin on her knees, and putting her arms round him, Rosamund
began to tell him about the country, developing enthusiasm as she
talked, bending over the little fair head that was so dear to her--the
little fair head which contained Robin's dear little thoughts, funny and
very touching, but every one of them dear.

She described to Robin the Spring as it is in the English country, frail
and fragrant, washed by showers that come and go with a waywardness
that seems very