But then he sprang up again, threw his arms round Mr. Erskine with a hug like a young bear, and with a joyous shout of "Ho for San Carlos!" darted away into the house to find Cherry.
XXXVII
RUSHED INTO CAMP
Whither I must, I must.
—King Henry IV.
If love does sometimes contrive to do for itself what the poet wished, and "annihilate time," over the "space," alas! it has generally no power. Those last days at home were to Magnus only quarter-days; but once in the cars, and the miles drew out a lengthening chain that fairly seemed to clank in his hearing. Two years now, almost, away from those dear faces; two years more without Cherry.
To be sure, she was coming to first-class camp; that was something. She had not said she would, but she must; or he should simply die, and the authorities would have to send him home.
As the train flew on, tossing everything behind its back, classmates began to straggle in, catching the express from one point or another; each State giving up its contingent of much-disgusted men, all equally gloomy and rebellious. What was the use of the old concern, anyhow? So they grumbled, keeping down each other's low spirits, and ever and anon launching forth upon the departed joys of the last eight weeks; opening their hearts less or more, according to the man. For in some coat pockets lay hid a little glove, carefully wrapped in rosy thoughts, and (I was going to say) here and there also a mitten, in different-hued tissue paper. But no, I take that back; nobody ever gets a mitten on furlough, which is perhaps the reason why so many engagements date back to just that point.
They felt very small just now, with love and home behind them; speeding away towards drums, Tacs and the reveille gun. I think some of them would have liked to slide off on a railroad "Y," and so ride backwards all the rest of the way, as under protest.
Through all the grumbling Charlemagne Kindred was profoundly silent, only jerking his words out when they must come, in a way that made the others pronounce him "a gingersnap." But snaps are sweet, and he was not.
"Just think," Rig said lugubriously, as he dropped into the seat by Magnus, "this time to-morrow I shall not have even the show of a pocket."