ard the end of the third
"leave" since Margaret's death, told them that the time for which he had
scrupulously sought to prepare them had come at last: he must have his
boy--he could not live without him.

Then when Jimmy came it seemed as though an entire garrison had started
in to spoil him. He was the merriest, sunniest, friendliest little chap,
frank, brave and even beautiful, with all his mother's lovely coloring,
with her deep, heavily-lashed, soulful, violet eyes, with her soft
curling brown hair, with her sweet, sensitive mouth and pretty white
teeth. No wonder big Oswald used to set him on his knee and look long
into the smiling little face, so fond and trustful, yet filled with
vague wonderment why daddy should so wistfully gaze at him; and then
with relief, Jim knew not why, when the strong arms would suddenly draw
the lithe, slender little body to that broad and heaving chest and hold
it there, close strained, while bearded lips sought and kissed again and
again the sunny curls. Dwight just lived for that boy, said Fort Riley,
small blame to him! Dwight made little Jim his friend, his confidant,
his companion. Jim had his own little pony as soon as he could safely
bestride one. Jim had his own little camp bed in the room opening off
his father's. Jim had his own shower bath rigged up in his own closet.
Jim had his regular setting-up drill and calisthenics, with daddy
himself for teacher, his rub-down and his soldier toilet, with daddy to
teach him breathing exercises that took the oxygen deep down into his
lungs and sent the red blood whirling through his sinewy little frame.
Jimmy had his own racket for tennis, his own target rifle, his own
kites, tops, marbles, soldiers of every conceivable size, costume and
corps, his own railway tracks and trains, his own books and bookshelves,
his own desk and study table--pretty much everything a boy could have
except his own way, which he was the better without, and his own
mother--without whom boy life can never be complete.

Fort Riley could be censorious, Heaven knows, when cause existed, and
sometimes when it didn't; but, save the cherished thought of certain
sentimental women that little Jim should have a mother's care as well as
a father's, Fort Riley had few critics so unwise as to question Dwight's
methods with his boy. Jim did not lack for playfellows of his own
age--the fort was full of them and they as full of mischief and
merriment as even army boys are a