reminded one of Lincoln."

"I tried to learn what I could from him, Major Sherman."

At length the car stopped, and they passed into the Arsenal grounds.
Drawn up in lines on the green grass were four regiments, all at last in
the blue of their country's service. Old soldiers with baskets of
cartridges were stepping from file to file, giving handfuls to the
recruits. Many of these thrust them in their pockets, for there were not
enough belts to go around. The men were standing at ease, and as Stephen
saw them laughing and joking lightheartedly his depression returned. It
was driven away again by Major Sherman's vivacious comments. For suddenly
Captain Lyon, the man of the hour, came into view.

"Look at him!" cried the Major, "he's a man after my own heart. Just look
at him running about with his hair flying in the wind, and the papers
bulging from his pockets. Not dignified, eh, Whipple? But this isn't the
time to be dignified. If there were some like Lyon in Washington, our
troops would be halfway to New Orleans by this time. Don't talk to me of
Washington! Just look at him!"

The gallant Captain was a sight, indeed, and vividly described by Major
Sherman's picturesque words as he raced from regiment to regiment, and
from company to company, with his sandy hair awry, pointing,
gesticulating, commanding. In him Stephen recognized the force that had
swept aside stubborn army veterans of wavering faith, that snapped the
tape with which they had tied him.

Would he be duped by the Governor's ruse of establishing a State Camp at
this time? Stephen, as he gazed at him, was sure that he would not. This
man could see to the bottom, through every specious argument. Little
matters of law and precedence did not trouble him. Nor did he believe
elderly men in authority when they told gravely that the state troops
were there for peace.

After the ranks were broken, Major Sherman and the Judge went to talk to
Captain Lyon and the Union Leader, who was now a Colonel of one of the
Volunteer regiments. Stephen sought Richter, who told him that the
regiments were to assemble the morning of the morrow, prepared to march.

"To Camp Jackson?" asked Stephen.

Richter shrugged his shoulders.

"We are not consulted, my friend," he said. "Will you come into my
quarters and have a bottle of beer with Tiefel?"

Stephen went. It was not their fault that his sense at their comradeship
was gone. To him it was as if the ties that had bou