It entwined itself with the drowsy thoughts of the patrol leader from whom it emanated when he lay down to sleep, eclipsing his interest in the future summer camp, in marbled seals and cooing pup-seals—though such might not have been the case could he have foreseen how exciting would be his first glimpse of the “gros seal” at close quarters.
It mingled with Leon’s dreamy reminiscences too, as the first ripple of slumber, like the inflowing tide, invaded his consciousness.
“Whew! this certainly has been a great day,” he murmured, after repeating the Lord’s Prayer with an elated fervor which he had never put into it before.
Yet there was one smirch upon the day’s golden face in the sudden memory of an old woman shrinking away from him with uplifted arm.
“Gee! I wish I could do something for her beyond a few good turns.” His drowsy tongue half-formed the words.
And like a silver echo, stealing through his confused consciousness came the automatic answer: “Estu preta! Live up to your able motto! Be Prepared!”
CHAPTER XII
THE CHRISTMAS BRIGADE