A frost in harvest time will ripen grain, and a great grief will give a sudden maturity to character. It was a boy who dreamed the happy dreams of that evening; it was a man who turned his back upon the old homestead, and set out upon his journey through the world.
He had a seven miles’ walk before him, and a black unsheltered night at the end of it; but he walked as swiftly and as resolutely as if a goal of comfort had awaited him. When once the hillside was cleared and he had reached level ground, progress was less difficult, and after the tremendous tempest of the day the wind gave signs of having blown itself out. There were pausings and relentings in it, and there were clear spaces in the sky out of which the stars began to shine keen and clear. The storm was over by the time when, after two hours of brisk walking, he had reached his journey’s end, and found himself before the long bleak wall of the cavalry barracks of the great Midland town. He had a long spell of waiting before him, and seating himself on a hewn stone at the side of the barrack gate he filled and lit his pipe, and prepared himself for a game of patience. Once or twice in the course of the long night a policeman passed him, turned his bull’s-eye lantern upon his face, and went by without questioning, and these events made the only break in the long monotony of the hours. He had at last fallen either into a stupor or a doze, when suddenly the notes of a bugle sounding the reveille startled him to his feet, with its urgent call of
Wake! Wake! Wake!
And wake in a hurry—a hurry—a hurry—a hurry,
And Wake! Wake! Wake!
There began to be a faint stir about the place, like the humming in a hive the inmates of which have been disturbed, and a little while later the bugle rang out again, in notes that were destined to become familiar to his ears.
All you that are able
Come down to the stable,
And water your horses and give ‘em some corn.
And if you don’t do it
The Colonel shall know it,
And you shall be punished the very next morn.
Soon afterwards the gates were opened, and a man in uniform appeared with a carbine tucked beneath his arm and began to pace up and down, just within the great bare barrack square. Polson marched up to him.
‘Are you recruiting here?’ he asked.
‘We are so,’ the man answered. ‘Do you want to join?’
Polson nodded.
‘Better see the Sergeant in the guardroom,’ the sentry told him. ‘Go through that door and you will find him there.’