Up the long trail, resilient to their horses' feet, they cantered where
the going was good, or picked their way with slow and careful tread
where the rocky ridges jutted through the black soil.
They made no effort to repulse the thought that this was their last day
together, nor did they seek to banish the fact of the war. With calm
courage and hope they faced the facts of their environment, seeking
to aid each other in readjusting their lives to those facts. They
were resolutely cheerful. The day was not to be spoiled with tears
and lamentations. Already each in his own place and time had made his
sacrifice of a comradeship that was far dearer than life. The agony of
that hour, each had borne in silence and alone. No shadow should fall
across this sunny day.
By the side of the grave, in its little palisaded enclosure, they
lingered, the father recalling the days of his earlier manhood, which
had been brightened by a love whose fragrance he had cherished and
shared with his son through their years together, Barry listening with
reverent attention and tender sympathy.
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