_OFF_ GUARD
Are you shining for Jesus loyally,
Shining just anywhere;
Not only in easy places,
Not only just here and there?
--F. R. HAVERGAL.
In such fashion days and weeks rolled by; as time-wheels will, over
the roughest ground, and through the most uninteresting country. For
without doubt, drills can become monotonous; and if the body yielded
itself more and more easily to regulations, as the time went on, so did
not always the mind.
At first, in the strangeness of everything, details went for less, but
now that he no longer wore the grey bag, to have his toes still kicked
out set his blood tingling. He was so well made by nature, that "this
extra regulation ramrod style," as he spitefully termed it, seemed like
persecution. For some of the drill masters by no means slackened their
demands as the need of them grew less.
"Get your shoulders back, Mr. Kindred!"
"_Get_ them back, sir!"
"_Get_ them _back_!"
"He had better take a sledge hammer and pound them in," Magnus declared
one day.
"You'll be pounded for disrespect," Rig warned him.
"All right; it's a true bill. I don't respect that man, and I never
shall."
"But officers, you know," suggested Rig.
"Oh, officers!" said Magnus loftily. "What business has he to be an
officer, with the manners of a boot-black?"
However, as I said, time did wear on; with parades, drills, gymnastics,
and the rest of it. And in the intervals, when upper classmen walked
with the pretty girls, and went to teas and picnics, the plebs drew
together and eyed them from a distance, making many comments, uttering
many groans; but, most of all, knitting up firm and strong the class
bond which no after-years could break.
This class bond is a most natural thing among boys who have faced
hardships side by side; and in a way, it is very fine; but it has its
danger, too.
The stand taken by each one in the class for and with each other one,
in those first hard weeks when they feel as if every man's hand was
against them all, sometimes passes into a "Stand by the class!" which
cramps the influence, and hinders the action of many an individual man.
"The class, right or wrong!" is never a safe motto.
One other little event in camp life that summer may be told over here,
for its after-effect upon Magnus Kindred.
There were two or three men in the pleb class who, by reason of a
certain offhand brightness of thought and tongue, had more influence
with the rest than they deserved, for either their principles or their
brains. Men able to put the wrong thing into such brilliant words,
that the real meaning was lost sight of in the fun and the glitter.
And so, in the scarcity of amusements, Magnus fell into the habit of
lingering where they stood; listening to their sayings, laughing at
their sallies, and, to a certain degree, following their lead. And, as
often happens, the light words, the smart speeches which were not true,
won their way. He began to hearken more readily, and more easily lent
himself to plans and projects he might better have let alone; getting
into the swirl of a current not likely to land him on any good and
fruitful shore.
And then, as birds of a feather are apt to find each other out, some
men of like tendencies in the first class made common cause, in a way;
finding an admiring look of any sort quite pleasant, and a pleb a
convenient catspaw, now and then. They made the musical ones come in
for a chorus; and under such innocent cover matured their plans, and
told their stories, to nobody's good.
If one of these wits set forth the fact that "Muffti" was sure to
lead the prayer-meeting that night, Magnus would perhaps stay in his
tent, or wander off beyond sound of the hymns, which always pricked
his conscience and his heart as well. Or if some smart man made fun of
the preacher who was to fill the chaplain's place during the summer
vacation, Magnus was careful the next Sunday to practise himself in the
fine art of sitting bolt upright when fast asleep. He grew to be an
expert at smuggling in "boodle": he took the loan of books he had much
better have let alone.
"Come round to my tent after dinner, Mr. Kindred," said Cadet Upright
one day; and of course Magnus went; then stood attention in the
straightest sort of way; very much wondering for what unknown breach of
rules he was to be called to account by the first Captain.
So he stood up to all his inches, just within the tent door, while
Cadet Captain Upright sat on a camp stool facing him; a stray sunbeam
working its way in to touch the chevrons, and lighting up the honest,
sunburnt face. Mr. Upright was no beauty, but not a man in the Corps
was more thoroughly respected than he. "Not much to look at," said Sam
Weller of his hat, "but it's an astonishin' 'un to wear!"
"Mr. Kindred," began Upright, "I asked you to come, because I wanted to
talk to you."