*V.*
Mackenzie, the surgeon, lounging in a big wicker chair, his heels higherthan his head, lazily rolled cigarettes and winked at the dazzlingreflection of the sun on the walls of the barracks. Off in the distancehe could see the little subaltern walking energetically down the road.The little subaltern was gotten up regardless in white linen. He wasevidently on his way to drink tea with the Colonel’s daughter.
"My eyes," said Mackenzie, aloud, "Will nothing interfere with hisafternoon tea! The devil only knows if he’ll be alive this timeto-morrow. Better keep cool when he can. He’s a blank little fool!Thinks Jessica Q will tumble when he says good-bye—does he? Tea andlove-making _now_!" and the surgeon fanned himself with his hand. Thesurgeon had never taken kindly to the little subaltern.
Suddenly his feet came down with a crash and he leaned forward in thewicker chair. Bennett had stopped the little subaltern and the littlesubaltern was talking back excitedly and kicking up the white dust,regardless of the fresh linen suit.
Mackenzie rose and stretched himself.
"Wonder if the old man has issued orders? Something’s up, sure as a gun,when that kid forgets Jessica Q and his clothes."
Three of the mess who had been talking earnestly at the end of thepiazza, turned at the sound of voices in the road and joined the twothere.
"Not Trevelyan, you say? It isn’t Trevelyan?" one of them was saying,as Mackenzie came up.
"Yes, it is, too! Jove! If I only had his chance," sighed the littlesubaltern, twirling around distractedly on one heel.
"There! There! That’ll do, Baby," said Bennett, patting him on thehead. The little subaltern squirmed, but he kept listening to whatBennett was saying.
"He’s a rum comrade, but I imagine he can do it," said Bennett lookingtoward the barracks, thoughtfully, "He knows the fine points ofsurveying from A to Z, and—"
"—He’s got more nerve than any chap I ever knew," put in Mackenzie.
"Is the old man going to send an escort with him? I bet if he does,it’ll be Sandy McCann," said Pearson.
"What’s this? What’s this I hear about Robert being sent off to-night?"
Young Stewart of the Engineers joined the group hastily. His uniformwas covered with dust and he held his helmet under his arm, wiping themoisture from his face.
"Why, it’s almost certain death. I—"
"That’s why we’re here—to face death, if we have to," said the littlesubaltern, with an odd new gravity, and Bennett suddenly stopped shortin patting his head.
Stewart turned.
"True," he said, briefly, running his right hand up and down the sleeveof his left arm "but—"
"And it probably won’t be any worse than what we’ll have to faceto-morrow or next day," said Bennett, as Stewart paused. "He hasn’tbeen sociable and over decent to us, but we’ll call on him and wish himluck. Come along, boys!"
The group laughed a little. "All right," they said.
Stewart followed them up to Trevelyan’s quarters.
After all, why should he feel it so! It was Trevelyan’s one chance toredeem himself with the regiment and turn the tide of popularity in hisfavor. Fate was not as cruel as she seemed. And Trevelyan bore acharmed life. And he knew Trevelyan could do it. Trevelyan would doit—_well_! Trevelyan might have failed in the shaping of the details oflife this last year, but in the supreme hour—
For Stewart remembered the climb down the turret tower and the madscaling of the crags in Scotland, and the storm and the white fury ofthe waters near the American fort, and the desperate swim, and the childwho had done these things because of what he would one day do as a man.
The little subaltern banged on Trevelyan’s door.
The Potter and the Clay: A Romance of Today Page 16
