"You know, when I was offered service in China, I declined—and you know why," McCalloway reminded him. "I should do the same thing today, except that now I think you can stand on your own legs. I take it you no longer need me in the same sense that you did then—and the call that comes to me is not an unworthy one."
"I reckon, sir—it's military?"
"It's at least advisory, in the military sense. My boy, it pains me not to be able to take you into my full confidence—but I can't. I can't even tell you where I am going."
"You—" the question hung a moment on the next words—"you aim to come back—sometime?"
"God granting me a safe conclusion, I shall come back ... and the thought of you will be with me in my absence ... the confidence in you ... the hope for you."
There was again a long silence, then McCalloway said:
"I came here to discuss it with you. I have declined to give a positive answer until we could do that."
Boone wheeled, and his head came up. He felt suddenly promoted to the responsible status of a counsellor. There was now no tremor in his voice, except the thrill of his young and straightforward courage.
"You say it's not unworthy work, sir. There can't be any question. You've got to go. If you hesitated, I'd know full well I was spoiling your life."
Later, side by side, they tramped the muddy turnpikes between the rich acres of farms where thoroughbreds were foaled and trained.