will never be old."

There was deep silence in the camp kitchen. The crackling of wood that
fell apart, the splashing of the waves of the lake on the pebbles by the
shore were the only sounds on earth. For a long minute the men stood as
if rooted; the colonel, poised and dramatic, and, I stirred to the
depths of my soul by this great ceremony which had come out of the skies
to its humble setting in the forest--the men and the colonel and I, we
all watched Rafael.

And Rafael slowly, yet with the iron tenacity of his race, got back his
control. "My colonel," he began, and then failed. The Swallow did not
dare trust his broken wings. It could not be done--to speak his thanks.
He looked up with black eyes shining through tears which spoke
everything.

"Tomorrow," he stated brokenly, "if we haf a luck, my colonel and I go
kill a moose."

They had a luck.




ONLY ONE OF THEM


It was noon on a Saturday. Out of the many buildings of the great
electrical manufacturing plant at Schenectady poured employees by
hundreds. Thirty trolley-cars were run on special tracks to the place