"Good-bye," said Dick, unable to keep back the suspicion of a tear.
"Good-bye," replied Mr. Hamilton, turning hastily to his desk, and fumbling among some papers, which seemed to rattle unnecessarily loud.
On the way to the depot Dick met Captain Handlee. The veteran greeted the lad cordially.
"So you're off to learn to be a soldier?" he asked.
"Well, I don't know that the military part of it amounts to much," admitted Dick, who had no false ideas about where he was going, "but dad thinks the discipline will be good for me, I guess."
"That's right. Nothing like discipline of the right sort for lads. We didn't have to learn to be soldiers in my time."
"No, I s'pose you just went right in and fought," said Dick.
"Indeed we did. That's what my boy did. Poor Bill! I wish I could see him, or even hear of him again. You'll not forget your promise; will you?"
"No, Captain Handlee."
"Remember he was the best shot in his company. He could drive a tack in a board at a hundred yards. You make some inquiries, and I think you'll get on the track of him."
"I will," promised Dick, but he had no idea in what a strange way fate was to bring about the old captain's desires through him.
