"Very likely he ought," said Miss Saucy. "Oh, he's not absolute perfection—won't be canonised till he's dead, I dare say."
XI
ON GUARD
Twelve small strokes on the tinkling bell;
Midnight comes, and all is well! —Culprit Fay.
Yes, with the new uniform came also new work, as Magnus had been warned. Guard duty put in its claim, and the plebs were promoted to walk post, and to learn what upper classmen could do to make that duty unpleasant. "Jumping plebs" went on with variations. "Crawling" seems to be the favourite word now, but probably the thing itself is not much slower than it was of yore.
The first night on guard was a never-to-be-forgotten thing to Magnus Kindred.
It was a quiet night enough, so far as disturbances went, for this time the tide of mischief seemed to set in some other direction. But that only left the power of the night itself unchecked. So still, so solemn, so sweet, and yet with such a bitter flavour. Strange beyond description, and beautiful past all telling.
Charlemagne had gone on with the second relief, tattoo had beat, and taps had said its closing word; and now all private lights were out. The day had been hot, but the night came down dewy and cool; and the full summer moon was slowly flooding the world with glory, and lining out everything in clear black and white.
Every tent wall was raised to let in the air. The prostrate men on the floors were as still as the white canvas above their heads. Sleeping off drills and difficulties here, and there plotting and planning; or perhaps gazing out into the night with wide-open, homesick eyes.
A faint breath stirred the trees around Camp Hard; from across the plain one could just catch the sound of slow footsteps, where the enlisted sentry paced up and down the Officers' Row. Far below, on the river, boats went and came: a sloop, dreaming noiselessly along on the incoming tide; or two steamers, signalling before they met. You could hear the dash of the swell upon the shore, and the panting breath of the fierce little tugs, with the more stately beat of the paddles of a side-wheeler. Over all, the moon rode high and clear.