"No. That's the way Paul puts it: 'I press toward the mark for the prize'; not to get ahead of Peter or James or John. The colour markers always in advance, flagging out new ground."
"What do you count a man's colour markers, sir?" Magnus said, looking amused.
"Perhaps clean purpose of heart and loyalty to God would come near it. The Great Captain has thrown open to you—to every young man—a wondrous Promised Land. He says: 'Go in and possess it. Ye are well able to overcome.' The land is not all 'fish and cucumbers and melons,' with a good deal of garlic, like the Egypt degradation and bondage; but 'a goodly land of springs and fountains, of oil olive and honey; whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.' I do not believe you cadets are half aggressive enough."
"In what way, sir?"
"Every way. Suppose your colour markers had been up to their duty on that sad night, and you pressing forward for the Lord's 'Well done.'"
"Yes," Magnus answered, with a thrill of pain that somehow got into his voice.
"Or suppose," Mr. Wayne went on, laying a tender hand on the young man's shoulder, "suppose you had been praying for those other men whose ways you knew; working with them, persuading them into the service of Christ?"
"Oh, that could not be," Mr. Kindred said decidedly. "At least, I might pray for them, of course, but I could not say much."
"Why not?"
"Against cadet code, sir. We let each other pretty well alone."