ht of him filled him with delight. He was taller and broader
than the rest, his air was more martial--there was something inspiring
in the way in which he held his sword. His golden epaulets were a
miracle of splendor, but it was the plume, the great white plume, that
held the boy enthralled. A ray of light from the morning sun, reflected
by the window of the stable, found its way through a chink in the blind
and fell just upon this plume. The effect was electric. Sam was
fascinated, and he continued to hold the lead soldier so that the
dazzling light should fall on it, gazing upon it in an ecstasy.

[Illustration: WAR'S DEMAND
"BUT WHAT DID HE WANT OF SOLDIERS?"]

Sam spent that entire day in the company of his new soldiers,--nothing
could drag him away from them. He made his father show him how they
should march and form themselves and fight. He drew them up in hollow
squares facing outward and in hollow squares facing inward, in column
of fours and in line of battle, in double rank and single rank.

"What are the bayonets for, Colonel Jinks?"

"To stick into bad people, Sam."

"And have the bad people bayonets, too?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Do they stick their bayonets into good people?"

"Oh, I suppose so. Do stop bothering me. If I'd known you'd ask so many
questions, I'd never have got you the soldiers."

His parents thought that a few days would exhaust the boy's devotion to
his new toys, but it was not so. He deserted the barnyard for the lead
soldiers. They were placed on a chair by his bed at night, and he could
not sleep unless his right hand grasped the white-plumed colonel. The
smell of the fresh paint as it peeled off on his little fingers clung
to his memory through life as the most delicious of odors. He would
tease his father to play with the soldiers with him. He would divide
the force in two, and one side would defend a fort of blocks and books
while the other assaulted. In these games Sam always insisted in having
the plumed colonel on his side. Once when Sam's colonel had succeeded
in capturing a particularly impregnable fortress on top of an
unabridged dictionary his father remarked casually:

"He's quite a hero, isn't he, Sam?"

"A what?" said Sam.

"A hero."

"What is a hero, Colonel Jinks?" And his father explained to him what a
hero was, giving several examples from history and fiction. The word
took the boy's fancy at once. From that day forward t