"Likely I would, if the tug came. Life's life, howsoever, when there aint no special call to get along without it. They're tryin' to learn them boys at West Point how to fight; but la! this here sham work don't go for nothin'. Live in peace till the time comes, say I."
"But you want to be ready for the time," said Magnus.
"Ready?" the man repeated. "Take your pitchfork and go. That's ready enough for me. It did average well, in '76."
"Garri-sons!" sang out the brakeman, flinging back the door. "Garrisons! Ferry to West Point."
And in another minute Magnus was out on the platform, and heard the little ferryboat ringing her bell. He looked eagerly about him, found the right official to take his check, and following that bell, marched down to the Highlander, and went on board.
A down train was nearly due, so there were a few minutes to wait; and Magnus pushed straight on to the little forward deck, and then forgot everything in what he saw.
It was unearthly fair, this bit of the world that lay before him. The lovely green further shore, decked from river side to sky edge in the rich growth and colouring of early summer; the hills but hardly yet in their full depth of green, so that the dark cedars and hemlocks stood out markedly among the tender hues of oaks, hickories, chestnuts, and maples. From the midst of the trees on the table-land rose up chimneys, pointed roofs, round roofs, and domes, which as yet meant nothing to Charlemagne Kindred. The river rolled placidly by, stirred into wavelets by the fresh, sweet breeze; close at hand he could hear the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the boat. All sweet, all strange; and between the two, Magnus very nearly let his head go down.
But now came the thunder of the down train; the inviting ding-dong of the ferryboat made itself once more heard, a little throng of passengers came hurrying on board, and then they were off. Crossing the Rubicon, Magnus felt, if he did not say.
For a few moments still he stood quite alone on the forward deck. How fast the little steamer parted the blue waters that lay between him and his new life! Hilltops to the north, hilltops to the south, Anthony's Nose cutting the river off on the one hand, Martlaer's Rock—the old "East Point" of the maps—closing it in on the other. Before him, West Point, "Tacs," and orders; behind him, the road by which he had come from home.
Then the swing-door slammed, and a bevy of girls came rushing out to the front of the boat. Magnus turned to look at them, then instinctively took a stand further back, where he could gaze less visibly.