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"Hold your tongue!" I barked my wrath like a frightened puppy, drawing back a stride and laying my eye closer along the pistol. "If you call me your son again I'll send you to your fathers."

"I can do it, General."

Yet great is precept. Precept is a well. Up from its far depths by slow, humble, constant process you may draw, in a slender silver thread, and store for sudden use, the pure waters of character.

"Yes." She stooped low under the interlacing boughs and plunged with me into the double darkness.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "To whom are you pledged for any such--"

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