“I think you are right,” he said thoughtfully.
“I am sure I am,” I cried. “The mounted artilleryman must be light and active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it gave the men freedom to move.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully; “and the officers’ uniforms might be made very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps.”
I was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that I had allowed my enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away.
He smiled. “It is of no use to draw back,” he said; “your heart is in it, and you know that you must accept the position.”
“Must?” I said sharply.
“Oh, we will not talk about ‘must,’” he replied, laughing; “we are friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are, with bright original thoughts of your own. Why, even if you could go back to your people, you would never have such an opportunity as this. Gil, you must make me an army that shall carry everything before it.”
“No,” I said gravely; “it is impossible.”
He frowned slightly, but his face was calm directly.
“Oh no, it is not impossible; you have shown me that your heart is in it, but you naturally shrink from so great a work, and feel, too, that you must not forsake your people. But it will not be so. If anything, they will have forsaken you. Come, Gil,” he continued, with a smile, “you have held out as you should, but it is now time to give way, and take my hand, meaning to be my faithful friend and follower to the last.”