They were walking across the field leading to the farm, and as they came to the stile the soldier leant heavily on it.  Turning his face full on the child, he said determinedly, ‘I’m not a-goin’ to talk to any Mr. Upton or no one about it.  I’d as lief hear you as a parson.  You mind me of a little brother of mine that died ten years ago.  “Tim,” he said, just afore he went, “Tim, will you meet me in heaven?” He was the only one I ever loved, and I’ve lived a dog’s life since!’

His eyes were moist with feeling, and for a minute Teddy looked at him silently in pitying wonder.  Then he said, ’Look here, Bouncer, this is what Mr. Upton said to me.  He told me Jesus had died for me, and how dared I keep from being His soldier when He loved me so?  You know that, don’t you?’

‘Ay, so Saxby tells me; but it don’t make no difference.’

‘No more it didn’t to me,’ continued the boy eagerly, ’until I went to God and enlisted.  I did it quite by myself in the wood.  You do it too, Bouncer—­you give yourself to God as His soldier, and He’ll take you and keep you.’

’I’ve been too bad; it keeps me wakeful at nights, the very thinkin’ of it!’

‘But won’t God forgive you if you ask Him to?’

’Saxby says so; but I don’t know.  The fact is, a soldier can’t be a Christian in the Army.’

‘I don’t believe you want to be one of God’s soldiers,’ said Teddy in a disappointed tone; ’you keep making ‘scuses!’

There was silence; then Tim Stokes heaved a heavy sigh.

’I won’t come no further, youngster; I ain’t in a mind to-day to see company, but I’ll be at the tea to-night.’

‘Oh, Bouncer, do come!’ and Teddy’s eyes filled with tears.  ’You promised you would.  I do want you to see mother and granny!’

But Tim wheeled round and strode off with something like a sob in his throat.  Teddy had little idea of the mighty conflict in his breast.  The child’s words had awakened many memories, and Tim was at that stage now when the powers of good and of evil were contending for his soul.

‘He don’t believe I want it, for I keep making excuses!’ muttered the poor man.  ’Ay, I do; but I haven’t got over the longing to be different.  I’d cut off my right hand, I do believe, if I could be as Saxby is.  I can’t bring myself up to the point; that’s it!’

Meanwhile, poor little Teddy crept indoors with a sad face, to announce to his mother the failure of his mission.

’He was nearly here, mother—­just the other side of the hedge outside—­and yet he turned back!’

CHAPTER VII

Uplifted and Cast Down