nts that I can describe to you.

As we marched into camp David was uneasy, and acknowledged frankly that
he was afraid his mother would be there to take him home in the motor.
But the familiar strawberry limousine was nowhere to be seen, and as we
swung into the company street we saw not David's mother, but his father
in his ancient Panama and his wrinkled business suit. The boy shouted his
delight, and when we broke ranks he dragged his father to the tent and
introduced him to as many of us as he could pin down for a moment. And a
little later, catching both Knudsen and me, he kept us in the tent while
he reminded his father of a promise. "You know, father, you said you'd
give me any kind of an automobile I wanted, if I stayed through the
hike."

Mr. Farnham had been deeply pleased, you could see it in his face, that
David had grown so manly. Consequently he was the more disappointed at
this prompt practical demand. But though a shade crossed his face, he
answered kindly, "You've earned it, David."

David put a hand on my arm, and on his other side drew Knudsen a little
closer to him, as if for support. "Then, father, I want a Ford!"

"A Ford?" cried his father. A Ford! thought I--a four hundred dollar car
when he might spend his thousands?

"Yes," said David, a little unsteadily. "I want to learn to take one
apart and put it together, and then I want you to send another Ford
ambulance to France, with me to drive it."

A glorious smile broke over the father's face, of pride, and fondness,
yet also of possible sacrifice of this son who was now first showing his
manhood--for there is danger in that ambulance service. I saw the story
was true that Mr. Farnham has been sending ambulances abroad; and saw
also that David had been afraid of his father's opposition to a scheme
which he had been hatching in secret. So he had felt the need of my
support and Knudsen's. But the father held out both hands to his boy, and
Knudsen and I slipped quietly out of the tent and walked together,
without saying a word, down to the edge of the drill-field.

Said Knudsen then: "Since it's settled now, that silly mother can't
interfere."

I was feeling pleased that though at first I had studiously neglected
David, he had needed me now. Knudsen's mind travelled much the same road.

"A good investment," he said, "the trouble we've put into that
youngster."

I had a little talk with Mr. Farnham before the train went. He was
overflowing