I felt the two latter were urging some change of plan; but in the end Wells left in vexation, almost in anger, striding across the parade-ground to the northern block-house.
In the shadow of the south stockade, some one was softly playing upon a violin, the sweet notes stealing up through the wild hubbub in strains of silvery sound.

Close upon one side of the fire, forgetful of the heat in their deep interest, two young soldiers were engrossed in a game of cards, while a group of comrades commented freely on the fortunes of the play.

Scarcely a yard distant, a grizzled old sergeant,--a veteran of the great war, no doubt,--bent above a book held open upon his knee, the shape of which bespoke a Bible; while on the other side a bevy of children were romping with their dogs or playing with sharp knives in the hard ground.

A woman over by the gate lifted a sweet contralto voice in an old-time love-song, and had hardly lilted the opening line before others joined her, making the night resound to the tender melody.

I saw the soldiers pause in their work to beat time, and marked the dark forms of the sentries above on the palisades as they leaned over to listen, every heart set throbbing with the memory of days gone by.
"Man is indeed a strange animal," said a voice beside me, and I turned to greet Ensign Ronan.