his men
to do without him."

"That is quite right, Sir. I believe I've been making a mistake," said
Dunn thoughtfully. "Poor chap, he's awfully cut up!"

"So he should be," said the doctor sternly. "He had no business to get
out of condition. The International, mind you!"

"Oh, Father, perhaps he couldn't help it," cried Rob, whose loyal,
tender heart was beating hard against his little ribs, "and he looks
awful. I saw him come out and when I called to him he never looked at me
once."

There is no finer loyalty in this world than that of a boy below his
teens. It is so without calculation, without qualification, and without
reserve. Dr. Dunn let his eyes rest kindly upon his little flushed face.

"Perhaps so, perhaps so, my boy," he said, "and I have no doubt he
regrets it now more than any of us. Where has he gone?"

"Nesbitt's after him, Sir. He'll get him for to-night."

But as Dunn, fresh from his bath, but still sore and stiff, was
indulging in a long-banished pipe, Nesbitt came in to say that Cameron
could not be found.

"And have you not had your tub yet?" said his captain.

"Oh, that's all right! You know I feel awfully about that beastly remark
of mine."

"Oh, let it go," said Dunn. "That'll be all right. You get right away
home for your tub and get freshened up for to-night. I'll look after
Cameron. You know he is down for the pipes. He's simply got to be there
and I'll get him if I have to bring him in a crate, pipes, kilt and
all."

And Nesbitt, knowing that Dunn never promised what he could not fulfil,
went off to his tub in fair content. He knew his captain.

As Dunn was putting on his coat Rob came in, distress written on his
face.

"Are you going to get Cameron, Jack?" he asked timidly. "I asked
Nesbitt, and he said--"

"Now look here, youngster," said his big brother, then paused. The
distress in the lad's face checked his words. "Now, Rob," he said
kindly, "you needn't fret about this. Cameron is all right."

The kind tone broke down the lad's control. He caught his brother's
arm. "Say, Jack, are you sure--he didn't--funk?" His voice dropped to a
whisper.

Then his big brother sat down and drew the lad to his side, "Now listen,
Rob; I'm going to tell you the exact truth. CAMERON DID NOT FUNK. The
truth is, he wasn't fit,--he ought to have been, but he wasn't,--and
because he wasn't fit he came mighty near quitting--for a moment, I'm
sure, he felt like it, because his nerve was go