perior, a handsome little nineteen year old officer, who came running
up, his pipe in his mouth, his drinking cup still in his hand. The lad
blushed scarlet on seeing us, for he doubtless recalled, as did I, the
times not long gone by, when I used to meet him at a music teacher's,
his long curls hanging over his wide sailor collar.

The idea that this mere infant should have command over such a man as
our friend Nourrigat, double his age, and whose life of work and
struggle had been a marvel to us all, somewhat shocked me.

I think the little chap felt it, for he soon left us, pleading that he
must be present at a conference of officers.

"A brave fellow and a real man," commented Nourrigat, as the boy moved
away. "His whole company has absolute confidence in him. You can't
imagine the calm and prestige that kid possesses in the face of danger.
He's the real type of leader, he is! And let me tell you, he's pretty
hard put sometimes."

And then in a burst of genuine enthusiasm, he continued:

"It's wonderful to be under twenty, with a smart little figure, a
winsome smile, and a gold stripe on your sleeve. The women willingly
compare you to the Queen's pages, or Napoleon's handsome hussars. That
may be all very well in a salon, or in the drawings you see in 'La Vie
Parisienne,' but it takes something more than that to be a true
officer. He's got to know the ropes at playing miner, bombarder,
artilleryman, engineer, optician, accountant, caterer, undertaker,
hygienist, carpenter, mason--I can't tell you what all. And in each
particular job he's got to bear the terrible responsibility of human
lives; maintain the discipline and the moral standard, assure the
cohesion of his section. Moreover, he's called upon to receive orders
with calm and reserve under the most difficult and trying
circumstances, must grasp them with lightning speed and execute them
according to rules and tactics. A moment of hesitancy or
forgetfulness, and he is lost. The men will no longer follow him. I
tell you it isn't everybody that's born to be a leader!"

"But, was he educated for the career?" we questioned.

"I don't think so. I imagine he's just waiting for the end of the war
to continue his musical studies--that is if he comes out alive."

"And you?"

"I? Why I've no particular ambition. I suppose I could have gone into
the Camouflage Corps if I'd taken the trouble to ask. But what's the
use of trying to shape your own