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Updated: May 19, 2025
Their real characters came out. You knew how far you could go with them, and what was more important, how far you couldn't go. It was at Dieval that my rank as lance corporal was confirmed. It is customary, when a rookie has been made a non-com in training, to reduce him immediately when he gets to France.
Now here he was again, quite the same, only it was true that she had not seemed to be, for years, what he called her now. "Rookie, my darling," said Nan, seeing no reason why she shouldn't give him the precious thing back again, "I'm terrible glad you've come. Charlotte tell you?"
In a year or two, youth would meet her on the road of youth, and they would kiss and old Rookie would become the dim duty of remembered custom. And as he thought these things, his overwhelming revolt against earth and its cruelty came over him, and he stood there gripping his hands into their palms, again at open war with life. It was a question without an answer, a hunger unfed, a promise broken.
He would, the minute he thought I had. Hasn't he?" "Yes," said Raven, "he has. Nan, why the dickens do you treat him so? You mean to take him in the end." "Do I?" asked Nan, still most contentedly. "Rookie, what a lot you know. Wake me if you hear a step." "A step? Who's coming?" "Charlotte. I told her I was no more afraid than up in your west chamber.
"Rookie," she said, "you are nearer an absolute fool than any human being I ever saw. If I wanted a man back, it's likely I could get him. Most of us can. But do you think I would?" "Then you're proud, sillykins." "I'm not proud," said Nan and yet proudly. "If I loved anybody, I'd let him walk over me. That's what Charlotte would say. Can't you hear her? It isn't for my sake. It's for his.
He wound a strip of the cotton about her arm, tied it, and gave part of what remained to McTabb. Then he took her in his arms again and kissed her warm face and her soft curls, and after that bundled her in furs and put her on the sledge. Rookie was straightening out the dogs when, like a thief, he clipped off one of the curls with his knife.
"A little," lied Billy. "There's a level stretch ahead, Rookie. Hustle up the dogs!" Half an hour later the sledge drew up in front of Couchée's cabin. Billy pointed to the tent. "The little one is in there," he said. "Go over an' get acquainted, Rookie. I'm going to take a look inside to see if everything is all right." He entered the cabin quietly and closed the door softly behind him.
He opened it and found that the writing inside was scarcely more legible than the inscription on the envelope. The last words were quite plain, and he gave a low cry when he found that it was from Rookie McTabb. He went close to a window and tried to make out what McTabb had written. Here and there, where water had not obliterated the writing, he could make out a line or a few words.
The assignment would take him for a long and indefinite time into the north. It would take him back to Isobel Becker. He went immediately to his room upon reaching the barracks, and wrote out his request to MacGregor. He sent it over to headquarters by a rookie. After that he waited. Not until the following morning did Moody bring him a summons to appear in MacGregor's office.
Did he want to tear down his carefully built edifice of culture and the habit of conventional life, and run away with Tira to elemental simplicities and sweet deliriums? And if he did love Tira, if he did want to tear down his house of life and live in the open, she would help him. But all she said was: "Good night, Rookie. I'm sleepy, too."
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