The
evolutions of soldiers and clangour of martial music were
nothing to _him;_ but he must wait upon his little mistress. I
mean of course the Newfoundland dog; not Dr. Sandford.
"Will you go for a walk, Daisy?" he said, the morning of the
third or fourth day. "There is nothing doing on the plain, I
find."
"A walk? Oh, yes!" I said. "Where shall we go?"
"To look for wonderful things," he said.
"Only don't take the child among the rattlesnakes," said Mrs.
Sandford. "_They_ are wonderful, I suppose, but not pleasant.
You will get her all tanned, Grant!"
But I took these hints of danger as coolly as the doctor
himself did; and another of my West-Point delights began.
We went beyond the limits of the post, passed out at one of
the gates which shut it in from the common world, and forgot
for the moment drums and fifes. Up the mountain side, under
the shadow of the trees most of the time, though along a good
road; with the wild hill at one hand rising sharp above us.
Turning round that, we finally plunged down into a grand dell
of the hills, leaving all roads behind and all civilisation,
and having a whole mountain between us and the West-Point
plain.
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