trange misgivings. How impossible for any
one to understand his feelings then, except perhaps the comrades who
had survived the same ordeal!

The vessel glided on. A fresh cool spring breeze with a scent of land
fanned Lane's hot brow. It bore tidings from home. Almost he thought
he smelled the blossoms in the orchard, and the damp newly plowed
earth, and the smoke from the wood fire his mother used to bake over.
A hundred clamoring thoughts strove for dominance over his mind--to
enter and flash by and fade. His sight, however, except for the blur
that returned again and again, held fast to the entrancing and
thrilling scene--the broad glimmering sun-track of gold in the
rippling channel, leading his eye to the grand bulk of America's
symbol of freedom, and to the stately expanse of the Hudson River,
dotted by moving ferry-boats and tugs, and to the magnificent broken
sky-line of New York City, with its huge dark structures looming and
its thousands of windows reflecting the fire of the sun.

It was indeed a profound and stirring moment for Daren Lane, but not
quite full, not all-satisfying. The great city seemed to frown. The
low line of hills in the west shone dull gray and cold. Where were the
screaming siren whistles, the gay streaming flags, the boats crowded
with waving people, that should have welcomed disabled soldiers who
had fought for their country? Lane hoped he had long passed by
bitterness, but yet something rankled in the unhealed wound of his
heart.

Some one put a hand in close clasp upon his arm. Then Lane heard the
scrape of a crutch on the deck, and knew who stood beside him.

"Well, Dare, old boy, does it look good to you?" asked a husky voice.

"Yes, Blair, but somehow not just what I expected," replied Lane,
turning to his comrade.

"Uhuh, I get you."

Blair Maynard stood erect with the aid of a crutch. There was even a
hint of pride in the poise of his uncovered head. And for once Lane
saw the thin white face softening and glowing. Maynard's big brown
eyes were full of tears.

"Guess I left my nerve as well as my leg over there," he said.

"Blair, it's so good to get back that we're off color," returned Lane.
"On the level, I could scream like a madman."

"I'd like to weep," replied the other, with a half laugh.

"Where's Red? He oughtn't miss this."

"Poor devil! He sneaked off from me somewhere," rejoined Maynard.
"Red's in pretty bad shape again. The voyage has been hard on him.