“That’s all right, sonny. A man often has to stop to revise his list of the world’s great men and give himself a lower place in it. It’s lucky for him if his blunder’s no worse than yours in telling an old fool—”
“Dad! You know blamed well. I’d ’a’ bit my tongue out sooner’n have called you that if I’d known it was you had a hold of me.”
“No hard feelings, son. No hard feelings ever between you and me. Only—you saw I was old. I was fairly certain to be someone’s dad or granddad. Someone wouldn’t relish hearing his dad or granddad called an ‘old fool’ any more than you would. Maybe it’d be well to remember that.”
“I—I understand. I’m sorry. Oh, Dad, it’s gorgeous to be with you again. I’ve asked and I’ve looked and I’ve even—”
“One second, Jimmie!”
Dad turned on the foremost group of the returning Federals. Briefly and clearly he issued a series of orders. Then to a similar approaching group and to a third and to a fourth. Soon the former fighting line was swarming with men at work over the captured guns. Without waiting further, Dad sprang astride a straying troop horse, lifted Jimmie to the saddle in front of him, and set off at a lumbering gallop to render a report to his corps commander.
On the way he scarcely spoke, saying only, as they started:
“If you and I have any sort of luck, Jimmie, we’ll have plenty of years to tell each other what’s happened since we said good-by that night back at Ideala.
“But just this minute we belong to Uncle Sam; and he needs us a lot. Our best, quickest thoughts, most of all. For there’s trouble ahead for the man who isn’t fitted to think it out.
“What’s become of my superior officers back there in the woods I don’t know. They’ll show up when the glory is handed out. But just now they’re a trifle scarce. And there may be work for me. I’ve got to do some planning—some mighty tall planning, too.”