CHAPTER ONE.HOT WORK IN THE SOUDAN.THE FALSE STEP.There is a dividing ridge in the great northern wilderness of America,whereon lies a lakelet of not more than twenty yards in diameter. It isof crystal clearness and profound depth, and on the still evenings ofthe Indian summer its surface forms a perfect mirror, which might serveas a toilet-glass for a Redskin princess.We have stood by the side of that lakelet and failed to note theslightest symptom of motion in it, yet somewhere in its centre there wasgoing on a constant and mysterious division of watery particles, andthose of them which glided imperceptibly to the right flowed southwardto the Atlantic, while those that trembled to the left found aresting-place by the frozen shores of Hudson's Bay.As it is with the flow and final exit of those waters, so is it,sometimes, if not always, with the spirit and destiny of man.Miles Milton, our hero, at the age of nineteen, stood at the dividingridge of his life. If the oscillating spirit, trembling between rightand wrong, had decided to lean to the right, what might have been hisfate no one can tell. He paused on the balance a short time, then heleaned over to the left, and what his fate was it is the purpose of thisvolume to disclose. At the outset, we may remark that it was notunmixed good. Neither was it unmitigated evil.Miles had a strong body, a strong will, and a somewhat passionatetemper: a compound which is closely allied to dynamite!His father, unfortunately, was composed of much the same materials. Theconsequences were sometimes explosive. It might have profited the sonmuch had he studied the Scripture lesson, "Children, obey your parentsin the Lord." Not less might it have benefited the father to havepondered the words, "Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath."Young Milton had set his heart on going into the army. Old Milton hadresolved to thwart the desire of his son. The mother Milton, a meek andloving soul, experienced some hard times between the two. Both loved_her_ intensely, and each loved himself, not better perhaps, but toomuch!It is a sad task to have to recount the disputes between a father and ason. We shrink from it and turn away. Suffice it to say that one dayMiles and his father had a Vesuvian meeting on the subject of the army.The son became petulant and unreasonable; the father fierce andtyrannical. The end was that they parted in anger."Go, sir," cried the father sternly; "when you are in a better frame ofmind you may return."