to his
stomach! Gad, but it's a great game! I envy you, boy! And I'm going to
teach you all I know, so you'll be the best prepared officer that ever
stepped on foreign soil. You'll know how to lean low while charging,
sir, to escape some of the fire--for a man can keep on going with a hole
in his arm, or leg, or maybe his face, but protect your stomach, sir! A
hole through it brings on nausea, and nine times out of ten you'll have
to sit down. Officers don't sit down, sir, till they're knocked down for
keeps!"

Jeb had walked to the door, using all of his will power to shut out
these words which had so nearly snapped the last thread of his waning
courage. Thus far, he felt assured, no one in the room had suspected the
turmoil that had well nigh driven him frantic. It was not cowardice, he
told himself; merely a loss of self-control--for how could a chap remain
calm while the old Colonel was shooting his stomach full of holes? His
quick perception of situations made it clear that his exit now must
remove whatever vestige of doubt there might have existed in the minds
of those behind him, and, turning at the threshold, he laughed
boisterously:

"I'll remember everything, Colonel! You just teach me how to do it, and
between us the Huns'll get all their hides can hold!" He slammed the
door, and was gone.

"I'd forgotten you were such a bloodthirsty old wildcat, Roger," Mr.
Strong began to laugh.

"You've had no cause to," the Colonel looked humorously across at him.
"But my bark in this case was worse than my bite. I merely wanted to
stir the young man's ardor so that he'll be the more keen for a smell of
powder. Did you note his eyes sparkling, Amos?--did you, Marian?"

Marian had not stirred during the Colonel's admonitions to Jeb. She had
been sitting limply in her father's desk chair, looking at the targets
which lay crumpled and forgotten beneath the table. Now she answered
listlessly:

"Yes, I noticed it."

Her tone, as well as her attitude, caught the Colonel's attention and
sobered him. He glanced toward Amos Strong, who had again turned to the
window and, with hands crossed behind his back, was gazing down into the
street; then whispered guardedly:

"You mustn't jump at conclusions, my dear little girl. Jeb's the soul
of honor, and of courage; he's just a mite unstrung, that's all--why
shouldn't he be?"

"Why do you think I'm jumping at conclusions?" she asked, smiling at
him. "He ought to make a very