my school in Vermont," said Warner, "they'd call that a considerable
abuse of metaphor, but all metaphors are fair in war. Besides, it's just
the way I feel, too. Do you think, Dick, we'll settle down to a regular
siege?"

"Knowing General Grant as we do, not from what he tells us, since he
hasn't taken Pennington and you and me into his confidence as he ought
to, but from our observation of his works, I should say that he would
soon attack again in full force."

"I agree with you, Knight of the Penetrating Mind, but meanwhile I'm
going to enjoy myself."

"What do you mean, George?"

"A mail has come through by means of the river, and my good father and
mother--God bless 'em--have sent me what they knew I would value most,
something which is at once an intellectual exercise, an entertainment,
and a consolation in bereavement."

Dick and Pennington sat up. Warner's words were earnest and portentous.
Besides, they were very long, which indicated that he was not jesting.

"Go ahead, George. Show us what it is!" said Dick eagerly.

Warner drew from the inside pocket of his waist coat a worn volume which
he handled lovingly.

"This," he said, "is the algebra, with which I won the highest honors
in our academy. I have missed it many and many a time since I came into
this war. It is filled with the most beautiful problems, Dick, questions
which will take many a good man a whole night to solve. When I think of
the joyous hours I've spent over it some of the tenderest chords in my
nature are touched."

Pennington uttered a deep groan and buried his face in the grass. Then
he raised it again and said mournfully:

"Let's make a solemn agreement, Dick, to watch over our poor comrade.
I always knew that something was wrong with his mind, although he means
well, and his heart is in the right place. As for me, as soon as I
finished my algebra I sold it, and took a solemn oath never to look
inside one again. That I call the finest proof of sanity anybody could
give. Oh, look at him, Dick! He's studying his blessed algebra and
doesn't hear a word I say!"

Warner was buried deep in the pages of a plus b and x minus y, and Dick
and Pennington, rising solemnly, walked noiselessly from the presence
around to the other side of the little opening where they lay down
again. The bit of nonsense relieved them, but it was far from being
nonsense to Warner. His soul was alight. As he dived into the intricate
problems memories came w