"It may be—it can be, if you will," he went on. "Every man has it in him to do royal work. 'The people that know their God shall be strong, and do exploits.'
"Fight the fight, Christian!
Jesus is o'er thee.
Run the race, Christian!
Heaven is before thee.
Thee from the love of Christ
Nothing shall sever:
Mount when thy work is done,
Praise him forever."
The grey figure bowed and disappeared behind the curtain amid great cheering.
"Good for you, Old Put!" cried Magnus heartily. "You see," he explained to his companion, "True's just the same (or a trifle better) in barracks than he is at prayer-meeting. That's how he won his name. Nothing but treachery could have put the old fort in the hands of the enemy,—and that failed. I believe," said Mr. Kindred, turning bright eyes on his companion, "that if Arnold had carried out his plan, the rocks on the hillside would have risen up and fought back the invaders."
Miss Cray looked at him.
"You're very patriotic, aren't you, Mr. Kindred?"
"Rather," Magnus answered with dry emphasis.
"I've been abroad so long," said the pretty girl, "I get puzzled. I do know about Arnold. There's his tablet in the chapel, you know. But who were Grant and Sherman, anyway? Didn't they figure in the last war, somehow?"
"Some people thought they did," said Cadet Kindred, with a face that had no expression whatever. And then, happily, the curtain drew up.
But how shall I give any idea of the performance to one who has never seen the like? Hits at officers, burlesques of unpopular orders, take-offs of the girls, with jibes and chaff at each other that would have made anybody but cadets just savage. Being cadets, they caught the fun, stood the jeers, and laughed—roared—till the Mess Hall rang.