Then he studied the flag again; musing over things he had heard and read. Of the men who ran up the colours when their ship was sinking in the deep, dark sea; of standards dyed with the life-blood of their defenders. Of the failures that yet were a triumphant success.
"My half day's work is done,
And this is all my part.
I give a patient God
My patient heart:
"And grasp his banner still,
Though all its blue be dim;
These stripes, no less than stars,
Lead after him."
"I wonder if that fellow loved anybody," Magnus questioned with himself, a stricture coming over his heart at thought of the young soldier under whose death-pillow the brave, pitiful lines were found. "And I wonder if I could have said it in his place? But that is what it means. That is just what I have to do for the old Stars and Stripes—and for the Lord's banner."
And secure against the criticisms of chipmunks and chickadees, Magnus began at the old ballad of the "Star-Spangled Banner," and sang it straight through.
"Well sung, and to the purpose," said a pleasant voice, and Magnus started up, to find a gentleman close behind him; and, as he saw at a glance, no less a person than his friend of the candidate journey.
It was plain, however, that Mr. Wayne did not know him. How could he find in the close-cropped hair the wayward, curly locks of two years ago? or see, in this happy compound of uniform and drill, the homesick boy whom he had cheered and comforted?
"Do not let me disturb you," said the newcomer, taking a seat near Magnus. "I was wandering round among the old walls, thinking how much had crumbled and how much grown up since their day, not knowing there was anyone up here but myself. And when suddenly the dear old song rang out, I could not help coming near to listen. Has it come into fashion again, in these latter days?"
"Not especially, that I know of," said Magnus. "But I was brought up on it."
"So was I. And where were you brought up?"