It was plain that Jethro had thought it all out.
“Why don’t any of the Swedes go?” he asked, “aren’t they willing?”
“They are willing enough,” Jethro returned, “but they have given up. They say there is no hope. Once they have made up their minds there is no changing them.”
“And why,” questioned Hugh bluntly, “don’t you go yourself?”
“Oh,” Jethro answered simply, “I forgot to tell you that. Of course I would go only I am leaving to-day. I’ve enlisted. I’ve got my orders. I’m going to Fort Snelling.”
“Oh,” cried Hugh, “how did you manage? My father wouldn’t let me. How old are you?”
“I am a little under age but I made them take me,” replied Jethro. “There wasn’t much trouble about getting consent, I haven’t any one that my going would make any difference to.”
Hugh’s whole view of the affair underwent a sudden and tremendous change. If Jethro was going to the war, why, that made everything different! He must think and think quickly, for, far off among the hills, he heard the whistle of the approaching train.
“Well,” Jethro said, breaking into his reverie, “I will be taking the forward coach when the train comes in, so I may not see you again. Good-by.”
He reached out his huge, red hand and Hugh shook it, still half dazed.
“Did you write that letter to the Indian?” he said, and, as the other nodded, “Give it to me. I haven’t decided yet but I—I might need it.”
Jethro pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to him.
“No, no,” he cried, immediately after, “it is not the right thing at all for you to go. Do not think about it again. Here’s the train. Good-by.”
“Good-by,” said Hugh, still in doubt, “good-by and good luck.”
Jethro strode away down the platform just as the big locomotive came thundering in. Hugh was turning slowly toward the Pullman coaches at the further end when he heard quick short footsteps behind him and little Carl Ingmarsson very red and breathless came panting up.
“I wanted to say good-by,” he said; “we never knew you were going until Mother told us.” He laid his square, firm little hand in Hugh’s.
“It was good of you to come,” returned Hugh. “What did your mother say about my going?”
“She didn’t say much,” Carl replied, “I think she had been crying.”
“Crying?” echoed Hugh; “why?” This seemed the most amazing thing of all the surprises that had come to him.