I read the power to do
it. But I wondered to myself if he never got homesick in that
little tent and full camp. It would not do to touch the
question.
"Do you know Preston Gary?" I asked. "He is a cadet."
"I know him."
I thought the tone of the words, careless as they were,
signified little value for the knowledge.
"I have not seen him anywhere," I remarked.
"Do you want to see him? He has seen you."
"No, he cannot," I said, "or he would have come to speak to
me."
"He would if he could," replied Mr. Thorold, — "no doubt; but
the liberty is wanting. He is on guard. We crossed his path as
we came into the camp."
"On guard!" I said. "Is he? Why, he was on guard only a day or
two ago. Does it come so often?"
"It comes pretty often in Gary's case," said my companion.
"Does it?" I said. "He does not like it."
"No," said Mr. Thorold merrily. "It is not a favourite
amusement in most cases."
"Then why does he have so much of it?"
"Gary is not fond of discipline."
I guessed this might be true.
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