en. They all liked him
well enough, although they knew him very little as yet, for he had kept
much to himself. But he turned sharply away from them and went out.
Somehow he was not in the mood for fun. He felt he must be growing morbid
but he could not throw it off that morning. It all seemed so hopeless,
the things he had tried to do in life and the slow progress he had made
upward; and now to have it all blocked by war!

None of the other fellows ever dreamed that he was lonely, big, husky,
handsome fellow that he was, with a continuous joke on his lips for those
he had chosen as associates, with an arm of iron and a jaw that set like
steel, grim and unmistakably brave. The awkward squad as they wrathfully
obeyed his stern orders would have told you he had no heart, the way he
worked them, and would not have believed that he was just plain homesick
and lonesome for some one to care for him.

He was not hungry that day when the dinner call came, and flung himself
down under a scrub oak outside the barracks while the others rushed in
with their mess kits ready for beans or whatever was provided for them.
He was glad that they were gone, glad that he might have the luxury of
being miserable all alone for a few minutes. He felt strangely as if he
were going to cry, and yet he didn't know what about. Perhaps he was
going to be sick. That would be horrible down in that half finished
hospital with hardly any equipment yet! He must brace up and put an end
to such softness. It was all in the idea anyway.

Then a great hand came down upon his shoulder with a mighty slap and he
flung himself bolt upright with a frown to find his comrade whose bunk
was next to his in the barracks. He towered over Cameron polishing his
tin plate with a vigor.

"What's the matter with you, you boob? There's roast beef and its good.
Cooky saved a piece for you. I told him you'd come. Go in and get it
quick! There's a letter for you, too, in the office. I'd have brought it
only I was afraid I would miss you. Here, take my mess kit and hurry!
There's some cracker-jack pickles, too, little sweet ones! Step lively,
or some one will swipe them all!"

Cameron arose, accepted his friend's dishes and sauntered into the mess
hall. The letter couldn't be very important. His mother had no time to
write again soon, and there was no one else. It was likely an
advertisement or a formal greeting from some of the organizations at
home. They did that about for