Both of these youths paid marked attention to Marion—at least Miles thought so—and he hated them both accordingly; all the more that he felt their eyes to be fixed upon him while he was bidding her “farewell.” He did not say “Good-bye.” That was too commonplace—in the circumstances almost childish.
There was one gleam of comfort in the fact, however, that Marion echoed the word, and that he thought—indeed he was sure—her hand trembled slightly as she returned, or rather received, his squeeze. Miles was very stern of countenance and remarkably upright in figure while these adieux were being said—for the glare of his rivals, he thought, was upon him.
How the poor fellow got through the preparations and packing and parades that were necessary when the order came abruptly for the regiment to start for Suez we cannot tell. He went about everything mechanically, or like a man in a dream. And it was not till they had fairly started in the railway train that he became alive to the serious fact that he was actually off to the wars!
The accommodation for passengers in that train was not good. Distinctly bad, indeed, would be the proper term to apply to the kind of cattle-truck in which Miles found himself with a detachment of the gallant 310th Infantry; and soon the blinding dust of Egypt reminded our young soldier that the real battle of life had fairly begun.
“You’ll get over it in time, my poor fellow,” said his friend Armstrong, who sat beside him.
“You need the same consolation yourself, friend Willie,” retorted Miles, wiping the dust out of the corners of his eyes.
“I didn’t mean that,” returned his friend. “You know what I mean! But cheer up; absence makes the heart grow fonder—at the same time it makes a fellow fit for duty. I have gone through it myself, and know all about it.”
Miles flushed and felt inclined at first to resent this allusion to the state of his affections, but he was fortunately saved from taking any notice of it by a sudden burst of laughter among the men at a remark from Corporal Flynn, who, although this was his first visit to Egypt, had undertaken to point out to his comrades the various localities which he chose to assume were more or less connected with Scripture history!
The first part of the journey was not particularly interesting, and what with the fine sand and the great heat the men began to experience the discomforts of an Eastern climate, and to make frequent application to their water-bottles. It would have been well if they had contented themselves with water, and with the cold tea which some of them had been provident enough to save up at breakfast; but when they reached the first station where there was a five minutes’ halt, some of them managed to smuggle strong drink into the train. One immediate result was that the men became more noisy.
“Come, give us a song, Gaspard,” cried several voices, apparently inspired at the same moment with the same idea and desire.