"My soul's-mate, war-mate soldier-girl," he murmured on.
"Well?"
"If you stand true in what's before us now, before just you and me, now and for weeks to come, I want your word for it right here that your standing true shall not be for the sake of any vow you've ever made to me, or for me, or with me, in the past, the blessed, blessed past. You promise?"
"I promise," she breathed. "What is it?"
"A thing that takes more courage than I've got."
"Then how will you do it?" she lightly asked.
"By borrowing all yours. May I?"
"You may. Is it to save--our battery?"
"Our battery, yes, against their will, with others, if I can persuade the fort's commander. At low tide to-night when the shoals can be forded to Cedar Point, I shall be"--his words grew hurried--the steamer was touching the fort's pier--the sail-boat, which was to take Anna and Miranda to where the ambulance and their own horses awaited them had cast off her painter--"I shall be the last man out of Powell and shall blow it up. Come, it may be we sha'n't meet again until I've"--he smiled--"been court-martialed and degraded. If I am, we--"
"If you are," she murmured, "you may take me to the nearest church--or the biggest--that day."