er him as he reflected how many chances there were against their
ever again meeting in this world. Naturally these thoughts turned his
mind to his own case. His sinful haste in quitting home, and the agony
of his mother on finding that he was really gone, were more than ever
impressed on him, but again the fatal idea that what was done could not
be undone, coupled with pride and false shame, kept him firm to his
purpose.

That evening, in barracks, Miles was told by his company sergeant to
hold himself in readiness to appear before the doctor next morning for
inspection as to his physical fitness for active service in Egypt.

Our hero was by this time beginning to find out that the life of a
private soldier, into which he had rushed, was a very different thing
indeed from that of an officer--to which he had aspired. Here again
pride came to his aid--in a certain sense,--for if it could not
reconcile him to his position, it at all events closed his mouth, and
made him resolve to bear the consequences of his act like a man.

In the morning he had to turn out before daylight, and with a small band
of men similarly situated, to muster in the drill-shed a little after
eight. Thence they marched to the doctor's quarters.

It was an anxious ordeal for all of them; for, like most young soldiers,
they were enthusiastically anxious to go on active service, and there
was, of course, some uncertainty as to their passing the examination.

The first man called came out of the inspection room with a beaming
countenance, saying that he was "all right," which raised the hopes and
spirits of the rest; but the second appeared after inspection with a
woe-begone countenance which required no interpretation. No reason was
given for his rejection; he was simply told that it would be better for
him not to go.

Miles was the third called.

As he presented himself, the doctor yawned vociferously, as if he felt
that the hour for such work was unreasonably early. Then he looked at
his subject with the critical air of a farmer inspecting a prize ox.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Nineteen, sir."

"Are you married?"

Miles smiled.

"Did you hear me?" asked the doctor sharply. "You don't need to smile.
Many a boy as long-legged and as young as you is fool enough to marry.
Are you married?"

Miles flushed, looked suddenly stern, squared his shoulders, drew
himself up with an air that implied, "You won't catch _me_ tripping
aga