tes of this or that melody, as if the player,
albeit a musician, found himself continually thwarted by the
darkness and the absence of any printed notes.

"Who is up there, Weldon?" Carew asked, as he peered up into the
dimness.

"Shut up; can't you?" Weldon ordered him abruptly.

And Carew subsided, just as the unseen organist, apparently
abandoning his more ambitious efforts, with sure touch swept into
the familiar harmonies of the Eventide Hymn, and then, still with
his hymnal in mind, jerked out the dozen stops and set the air
rocking to the steady beat of Onward, Christian Soldiers.

As he listened, Weldon's mind went backward to his last Sunday
evening in the cathedral at home. He had known why the old rector
had chosen that time-worn hymn for a recessional; he could still
feel the stir of the congregation as he passed them, still see the
scarlet blot of color made by his own hymnal against his stiffly
starched cotta, still see his mother, erect and pale, staring at him
with a resolute bravery which matched his own. Since then, he had
been inside no church until to-day. It was a far cry from
worshipping in the Gothic cathedral to camping in the simple little
Dutch church; but in each the air was vibrating to the same martial
hymn.

Little by little, the groups scattered over the floor fell into
silence. Here and there, one took up the refrain, now humming it
softly, now singing it with full voice. Then the refrain died away;
there was an instant's hush, an instant's modulation; and, as a man,
the crowd beneath rose to their feet and stood, pipe in hand, while
slowly, steadily from the organ came rolling down the familiar notes
of God Save the Queen.

The organ was closed with a muffled clatter, the organist rose and
slowly came down to the floor. With a friendly word here and there,
he passed among the troopers who saluted him and then settled
themselves again for comfort and their pipes. Last of all, he paused
beside Weldon.

"It is good to put my fingers on the keys again," he said, as he sat
down for a moment on the low rail. "We had an organ at home, and I
miss it. I builded better than I knew, when I chose this place for
our barracks. One rarely finds an organ out here."

Just then an orderly lighted the chancel where they stood. The
organist gave a slight exclamation of surprise.

"Isn't this Trooper Weldon?"

The speaker's face was in shadow. Only the starred shoulder straps
gave Weldon any c