pressed his belief in this, and also that Mr. Lincoln would
draw all the water before he got through.

"Upon my soul," said Mr. Sherman, "I'm disgusted. Now's the time to stop
'em. The longer we let 'em rear and kick, the harder to break 'em. You
don't catch me going back to the army for three months. If they want me,
they've got to guarantee me three years. That's more like it." Turning
to Stephen, he added: "Don't you sign any three months' contract, young
man."

Stephen grew red. By this time the car was full, and silent. No one had
offered to quarrel with the Major. Nor did it seem likely that any one
would.

"I'm afraid I can't go, sir."

"Why not?" demanded Mr. Sherman.

"Because, sir," said the Judge, bluntly, "his mother's a widow, and they
have no money. He was a lieutenant in one of Blair's companies before
the call came."

The Major looked at Stephen, and his expression changed.

"Find it pretty hard?" he asked.

Stephen's expression must have satisfied him, but he nodded again, more
vigorously than before.

"Just you WAIT, Mr. Brice," he said. "It won't hurt you any."

Stephen was grateful. But he hoped to fall out of the talk. Much to his
discomfiture, the Major gave him another of those queer looks. His whole
manner, and even his appearance, reminded Stephen strangely of Captain
Elijah Brent.

"Aren't you the young man who made the Union speech in Mercantile
Library Hall?"

"Yes, sir," said the Judge. "He is."

At that the Major put out his hand impulsively, and gripped Stephen's.

"Well, sir," he said, "I have yet to read a more sensible speech, except
some of Abraham Lincoln's. Brinsmade gave it to me to read. Whipple,
that speech reminded me of Lincoln. It was his style. Where did you get
it, Mr. Brice?" he demanded.

"I heard Mr. Lincoln's debate with Judge Douglas at 'Freeport," said
Stephen; beginning to be amused.

The Major laughed.

"I admire your frankness, sir," he said. "I meant to say that its logic
rather than its substance 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