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diff --git a/26835-h/26835-h.htm b/26835-h/26835-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ac0a97 --- /dev/null +++ b/26835-h/26835-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6627 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Where the Souls of Men are Calling, by Credo Harris. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .centerbox { width: 40%; /* heading box */ + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center; + padding: 1em; + } + + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + div.trans-note {border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; + margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: center;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where the Souls of Men are Calling, by +Credo Harris and John R. Neill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Where the Souls of Men are Calling + +Author: Credo Harris + John R. Neill + +Release Date: October 7, 2008 [EBook #26835] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE SOULS OF MEN ARE CALLING *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + + + + + <h1>WHERE THE SOULS<br /> + OF MEN<br /> + ARE CALLING</h1> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="428" height="600" alt="Where the Souls of Men are Calling" title="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Where the Souls of Men are Calling</i></span> +</div> + + + + + + + <h4>BY</h4> + <h2>CREDO HARRIS</h2> +<h4><i>Frontispiece by</i></h4> + <h3>JOHN R. NEILL</h3> + + + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> + BRITTON PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /><br /> + + + +Copyright, 1918<br /> + +By<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Britton Publishing Company</span><br /><br /> + +All Rights Reserved<br /> + +Made in U. S. A.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>TO<br /><br />MAUD BLANC HARRIS</h3> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='centered'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><br /><br />WHERE THE SOULS OF MEN ARE CALLING<br /><br /></h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p>Hillsdale is "somewhere in the United States of America"—but there are +hundreds of Hillsdales!</p> + +<p>This particular Hillsdale is no less, no more, than the others. It +contains the usual center of business activity clustering about a rather +modern hotel. One of its livery stables has been remodelled into a +moving-picture house, the other into a garage; one of its newspapers has +become a daily, the other still holds to a Friday issue. In its outlying +districts will be found hitching racks before the stores. Altogether, +Hillsdale might be said to be "on the fence," with one leg toward +progressiveness, the other still lingering in the past.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Its residences have not grown beyond the rambling, mellow kind, that +drowse in poetic languor amidst flowering vines and trees. These trees, +that also line the streets, meeting in cathedral arches overhead, might +be stately elms of New England, poplars of the middle-west, or live-oaks +of the south; for it must be strictly borne in mind that Hillsdale is +"somewhere in the United States."</p> + +<p>One mild day in early April, 1917, in the side yard of a corner house +well away from traffic noises, two trim little women, Miss Sallie and +Miss Veemie Tumpson, were delicately uncovering their tulip beds when +Colonel Hampton, passing on his way down town, stopped and raised his +hat. An imperceptible agitation rustled their conventional exteriors, +since it was an occasion of pleasure when Colonel Hampton paused at +anyone's fence. They noticed, however, that his usual geniality was +lacking; that the kindly seams in his face were set into lines of +sternness.</p> + +<p>"Well, m'em," he thundered, "their damned outrages continue!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie gasped and stared at him, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> her more timid sister was +too much taken aback to move. In the forty-odd years of their +acquaintance with this agreeable product of the mid-Victorian era, this +was the first time they had heard an oath pass his lips—without an +immediate apology; and the apology had not been forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"Yes, m'em," he cried, striking the ferrule of his cane on the sidewalk, +"their damned outrages continue!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Colonel," Miss Veemie faltered, "whatever can have happened?" She +was a trifle deaf, but she had no difficulty whatever in understanding +the irate gentleman before her.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Hampton," Miss Sallie, as was her habit, took the offensive, +"what do you mean, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Mean enough, and happened enough!" The cane again added emphasis. +"Those German vipers have torpedoed another of our ships! The +de-humanized outcasts, the blood-crazed toads, have wantonly destroyed +more American lives! I tell you, m'em, our President is getting damned +tired of it, and we'll have war<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> as certain as your tulips are sure to +be the fairest in our proud city, m'em!"</p> + +<p>The cheeks of the little ladies flushed at this dull prophecy, but for +quite a minute the three remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, I hope not," Miss Veemie sighed at last—meaning the war, of +course. "It's terrible!"</p> + +<p>"And peace can be terrible," the Colonel thundered. "A country that buys +peace at the price of dishonor is no better than a frump who sells her +soul for gewgaws and furbalows! When posterity shall read of how the +diseased mind of a single lunatic has stabbed history's richest pages +with a sword of murder, rapacity and lust, it will turn a lip of +contempt toward every nation that stood upon a vacuous neutrality. To +hell with neutrality, when a madman stalks abroad!"</p> + +<p>Miss Veemie now felt that she had been silenced for the rest of time, +and Miss Sallie's delicate hands, incongruously housed in heavy garden +gloves, became expressive of horrified amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What?" he demanded, looking more than ever furious.</p> + +<p>The little ladies jumped, and Miss Sallie made haste to say:</p> + +<p>"Why—why nothing."</p> + +<p>He eyed them for a moment; not suspiciously, but with anger at +everything in the universe—themselves, perhaps, excepted.</p> + +<p>"Where's Jeb?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"He went into the country again with his rifle this morning," Miss +Sallie answered. "He feels as you do, Colonel, that the time has come to +strike and we must be preparing for it."</p> + +<p>"But I wish you'd speak to him," Miss Veemie imploringly added. "He's +bent on getting ready and being among the first, if the time comes, +and—and——"</p> + +<p>"And he'll do it in splendid style, rest assured of it, m'em! Jeb will +make a fine soldier!—he comes from a line of soldiers!"</p> + +<p>Tears filled Miss Veemie's eyes.</p> + +<p>"We've never seriously thought that Jeb——" she began, but could get no +farther and relapsed into a sorrowful contemplation of the tulip bed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, there; I know, I know," the old gentleman interrupted gently. "I +know how you feel about him; I know how you've both been more than +mothers to him!"</p> + +<p>"We've done our best," there was a tightness in Miss Sallie's voice. "He +never remembered his own mother, and was so little when dear brother +Jebediah died."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," he murmured. "How old is Jeb?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-six."</p> + +<p>Another silence fell upon them. Then the Colonel sighed, turned and +started on his way downtown, still muttering to himself as he went:</p> + +<p>"I know, I know. All the same, that Kaiser's a damned murderer, and +we've got to smash him if it takes the last drop of blood in Hillsdale; +yes, sir, the last precious drop!" So by the time he reached the hotel +his step was vigorous and the ferrule of his cane struck the sidewalk +with military precision. Fifty-three years ago he had marched that way +with Grant—or was it with Lee? Hillsdales do spread over such a lot of +territory!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you ever!" Miss Sallie gasped, breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>"Sakes alive," Miss Veemie whispered, calling upon her nearest approach +to profanity. But they continued to stare after him, by unspoken accord +moving to the fence and leaning over it, farther and farther, to keep +him in sight as long as possible.</p> + +<p>It was while they were so occupied that a girl stepped out upon the side +veranda. She hesitated an instant, poising lightly in surprise at their +rather unusual attitudes, and biting her lips to keep from laughing +outright. Then coming down into the garden, she asked:</p> + +<p>"Is the parade in sight yet?"</p> + +<p>Turning, they rushed at her.</p> + +<p>"<i>Marian!</i> When did you get home? How did you get in without our seeing +you?"</p> + +<p>Her parasol fell to the ground before their onslaught of affectionate +greetings, as they held her off, only to draw her close to them.</p> + +<p>"Why," she laughed, somewhat out of breath, "the front door was open—as +usual; so I came on through—as usual—looking for you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>When</i> did you get home?" they insisted. "Is it really you?"</p> + +<p>"You little dears," she cried. "Oh, but it's good to see you!"</p> + +<p>"But <i>when</i> did you come?"</p> + +<p>"Last night!"</p> + +<p>"And you're going to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Hm-hm," she laughed, kissing them upon the cheeks. "I suppose I'll have +to, unless Daddy has a change of heart and lets me go to France."</p> + +<p>"France, nonsense! Stand off, and let's see you," Miss Sallie commanded. +"My! My! And you're really a trained nurse?"</p> + +<p>"Really a trained nurse," she answered enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"I could never understand why you wanted to be," Miss Veemie faltered, +looking at her as though she were convinced that contact with the big +cities and hospitals and surgical cases must surely have left an +unfavorable impress. "But you haven't changed—I do believe! Why, child, +you're even prettier! Is that taffeta, my dear? How much did you pay for +it?"</p> + +<p>"Sister Veemie," Miss Sallie interrupted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> with a shade of annoyance, +"for pity sake don't begin to talk dresses—though it <i>is</i> becoming, my +dear," she turned to Marian. "Have you seen Jeb?"</p> + +<p>The girl hesitated, yet not exactly in embarrassment, and answered +slowly:</p> + +<p>"No. Is he well?"</p> + +<p>"More than well—and simply daft with his preparations for the war!"</p> + +<p>"Preparations for the war?" she asked, not understanding.</p> + +<p>"Why, my child, he goes into the country every day to shoot his rifle, +he's so in earnest! I do believe that if Congress could hear half he +thinks about the insults we are forced to swallow, they'd declare war +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Sister Sallie thinks he should have been named Patrick Henry," Miss +Veemie sighed, "but I'm sure I can't imagine why! Jebediah is much +prettier."</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie ignored this, and in a more confidential tone continued:</p> + +<p>"When he was a little boy, a fortune teller said——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I know," Marian laughed, "—said he might be President some day!"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, I really shouldn't wonder! But, oh, why have you stayed +away from us so long! Did nursing take so much time to learn? Now that +you're back," her voice grew tender, "I do hope you and Jeb—well, you +know that it was your dear mother's wish, and his dear mother's wish, +Marian."</p> + +<p>"Please don't," the girl interrupted hastily. "I've heard that a +thousand times. Besides, Jeb and I were only four months old when our +mothers died; and besides that," she smiled prettily, "Jeb has surely +recovered from his silly notions by now."</p> + +<p>"Jeb will entertain whatever notions I tell him to," Miss Sallie +declared with vigor.</p> + +<p>"Then I don't want to see him," Marian laughed, though with not enough +conviction, perhaps, to keep Miss Sallie from darting a look of +encouragement at her sister, who, failing to understand it, observed:</p> + +<p>"Colonel Hampton just passed before you came; did you see him?"</p> + +<p>"No!—bless his old heart! How is he?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>—quite as foolishly angry with my +father as ever, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"He's not all to blame for that." Miss Sallie compressed her lips. "Your +father, my dear, is as good a hater as he is an editor."</p> + +<p>"Which is going some," Marian laughed.</p> + +<p>"Going how?" Miss Veemie asked, protestingly.</p> + +<p>"I must say," Miss Sallie interposed, "that the Colonel has been a +devoted friend to Jeb!"</p> + +<p>"And I'm devoted to the Colonel," Marian quickly replied, as though her +loyalty had been challenged. "You both know how I've deplored that +quarrel—why, it started long, long before I was born, and I'm sure +they've forgotten its origin!"</p> + +<p>"Politics! Wretched politics," Miss Sallie sighed. "I've often thought, +my child, how easily you might re-cement their friendship." She looked +wistfully at the girl, who asked in all sincerity:</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"The Colonel is so fond of Jeb, and you are your father's only child! +Can't you just fancy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> them clasping hands beneath a wedding bell of +beautiful lilies?"</p> + +<p>"It's easier to fancy them quarreling again the next day! No," she began +to laugh delightedly, "if you're so set on having a wedding, marry them +to each other; then they can fuss to their heart's content and nobody +will mind. There, forgive me!" she cried, putting her arms about Miss +Veemie, who was taking this seriously, and almost gasping for breath, "I +was horrid to joke about it! But you mustn't let Miss Sallie put those +silly thoughts on Jeb and me, really! Remember, I've been away two +years—two years this very sixth of April—and see how we've both +improved!"</p> + +<p>There might have been a slight suspicion of yearning that somehow got +into her voice as she said this; at any rate, Miss Sallie thought so, +and wisely decided to let the subject rest awhile.</p> + +<p>Marian walked to the fallen parasol, picked it up and opened it.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to be going," she said. "Father expects me about +twelve. Your tulips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> are looking well, for this early," she continued +evenly. "Do you still have the scarlet ones in this bed? And, oh, I +wonder if I can see the courthouse clock from your fence, as I used to!"</p> + +<p>She leaned over the pickets, looking; then glanced up the street in the +other direction. Miss Sallie did not miss the significance of this, and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she asked, as Marian turned around.</p> + +<p>"I—I really; isn't that funny? I've forgotten!" And to hide a very +genuine embarrassment she leaned again over the pickets; glancing, as +before, up and down the street where the courthouse was, and was not, +but now giving a little exclamation of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"He's coming! Your spoiled nephew is at the corner."</p> + +<p>She glanced at Miss Sallie, and found that little lady beaming +pleasantly with a "bless you, my children," countenance that sent the +blood flying to her cheeks. She felt suddenly afraid to stay and face +the man from whom, at the last moment and as a last resort, she had fled +to keep from giving a certain answer to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> insistent pleadings. She +knew that he would plead again, even after two years of waiting; and, in +a sense, she wanted him to plead, though not just at this spot, nor +until she had gathered up her forces with which she might artfully +resist him awhile longer.</p> + +<p>"Well, goodbye, everybody," she said quickly. "I must hurry downtown."</p> + +<p>"Without seeing Jeb?" Miss Sallie exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll see him soon. We can't escape each other very long in +Hillsdale," she laughed.</p> + +<p>"But, my child, it will only be a minute! You surely——"</p> + +<p>Jeb, having entered by the front way, was now heard whistling as he came +through the house, and the next moment he stepped out on the side +veranda; then stopped, crying joyously:</p> + +<p>"Marian!"</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jeb," she said, advancing with a candor that belied the look +Miss Sallie had surprised half a minute before.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeb," Miss Veemie glided toward him, "I've been so worried for fear +your gun had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> exploded and done something! Are you tired, dear?"</p> + +<p>This adulation had been a daily occurrence in Jeb's life since he was +four years old, when these adoring aunts had taken him beneath their +roof. Usually he met it half way, but now, with an indifference that in +a moment of less excitement would have been pronounced, he passed her +and caught Marian's hand, crying:</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> a surprise! Did you drop out of the trees?"</p> + +<p>"That savors horribly of monkeys, Jeb," she laughed, quietly withdrawing +her hand. "You used to do better!"</p> + +<p>"I meant to ask how long since you dropped down from heaven, angel," he +smiled. "My word, but you're looking fit! For a three times winner, you +just about take the cake!"</p> + +<p>"Cake, dear?" Miss Veemie sweetly inquired. "Certainly you shall!" And, +turning, she hurried busily into the house, Miss Sallie following with +an expression about her mouth which said as plainly as words that her +well-meaning sister would not emerge with cake, or anything else, to +interrupt a <i>tête-à-tête</i> so promising.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jeb waited until they had quite disappeared, then he crossed to Marian, +asking soberly:</p> + +<p>"Why did you run away, just when you promised to tell me what I wanted +to hear?—and why didn't you answer my letters?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, turning toward the flower beds, "if the tulips +will be in bloom soon! I'd so love to see them again!"</p> + +<p>He laughed tenderly, but persisted:</p> + +<p>"Why did you run away?—why didn't you answer my letters?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, those things happened two years ago, Jeb. Haven't you advanced at +all?—do you always live in the past like a silly old man? You didn't +write but three times, anyway!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, how many times did you expect me to write without getting an +answer?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she answered indifferently, "as many times as you thought it was +worth doing. I might have answered the fourth; one can never tell about +those things. Miss Sallie says you're getting ready to fight, Jeb. Are +you thinking of going over to join the British or French?"</p> + +<p>"Not for me," he laughed, disregarding,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> somewhat to her surprise, the +subject of letters and answers. "They can peg along with their own +scrap; I'm getting in shape for this country, if it becomes involved! +You ought to see the hikes I take, Marian! Twelve miles in a +forenoon—easy! And my shooting is really—look here!" He began fumbling +in his pocket and brought out several paper targets which he unfolded +and held before her. "What d'you think of that for three hundred +yards!—five centers! Here's the four hundred!—look, Marian! Isn't it a +peach? By Jove, if ever I get a crack at those Huns, there'll be a few +less!"</p> + +<p>From the targets, over which he was now bending in feverish interest, +she glanced up at him without being observed, her face somewhat puzzled. +She felt extremely gratified that Jeb had made these perfect scores, and +her spirit thrilled with his martial fervor; but, on the other hand, he +had just been talking about a certain question which she had evaded two +years ago by running away to take a hospital course in nursing, and it +seemed to her that he was dismissing it rather abruptly. Yet she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> knew +Jeb's temperament, as any girl will know a man with whom she has been a +play-fellow since childhood; and, although hardly prepared for it just +at this moment, she read aright that his love of self, his thirst for +praise, had in no wise diminished. Had she been asked for a direct +answer she could have told that his enthusiasm for target practice in +the woods, where for hours he pretended to be shooting Germans, was +vital to his abnormally active imagination; for Jeb, although a giant in +strength and a god in grace, possessed the brow and eyes of an +inveterate dreamer.</p> + +<p>Formerly his dreams had run to adventure of a milder form, sometimes to +verse, once or twice or thrice or more to love. He had, as a matter of +fact, for short periods loved nearly all the girls in Hillsdale who were +pretty enough, and clever enough; never becoming really serious—unless +it was with her! But she had laughed at him then, sympathetically and +sweetly, reminding him that they had grown up together, besides being +each of them twenty-four.</p> + +<p>Not that she believed these were serious ob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>stacles, but at the time +they served; for, if the strict truth be told, Marian understood Jeb too +well to confess how much she cared. His exceptional charm, fascinating +her beyond anything she had experienced, was, on the other hand, marred +by his inordinate vanity. His extreme courtesy, urban manner and quick +instinct for thoughtful attentions to old and young alike, she read +truly as superficial, rather than sincere, kindnesses. The casual +acquaintance would not have discovered this—but Marian had grown up +with him! She <i>could</i> love him, she had more than a hundred times told +herself—God, yes! Alone in the nights when his warm bronze coloring of +perfect health seemed near to her, she had admitted this. Yet by day she +laughed at it; and laughed at Jeb. Thereupon Jeb had settled down in +earnest to win her.</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie had watched through a prayer-glass the +beginning of that ardent affair. From their lofty place of vantage +twenty-four and twenty-four might not have been quite suitable, but +years could stand for naught against the tower of mental strength and +character with which they knew Marian to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> be possessed. They would +gladly have greeted her as one of themselves, one to mother Jeb, to see +that he was warmly clothed and did not eat imprudently. He had always +been a child to them! Many times, in the bygone days, Miss Sallie would +hint at this ideal mating, till at last the daughter of Amos Strong had +wrapped the little woman in her arms, saying sweetly that she preferred +something in life besides "mothering an overgrown, selfish boy."</p> + +<p>It had cost her something to say this, for in her heart she was just +beginning to know how adoringly she could be these things and more to +him. As a child she mothered him; at ten he bullied her; in their 'teens +she had bossed and mothered him again! Love him? She admitted it through +tears to her mirror—and yet, withal, she had understood him just a +shade too well!</p> + +<p>Then came the day—as such days will—when she was cornered, pinioned, +made captive!—when she could no longer fight, and knew that surrender +was but a matter of hours. Much of that night (she remembered every +minute of it now!) she had lain awake watching her heart and her level +judgment wage their last battle;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> and the next afternoon, an hour before +he was to come, she quietly left for Baltimore, or New York—or it may +have been Chicago—to take the course in nursing.</p> + +<p>Her eyes now swept him with tenderness as the memory of that day came +rushing back, but a shadow of disappointment crossed them as she saw +that he was still looking, fascinated, at the proof of his skill. Was +her return, after an absence of two years, so meaningless that he could +be engrossed by a few sheets of inert paper while she stood within touch +of him?</p> + +<p>"You shoot very well, Jeb," she said, casually.</p> + +<p>"Don't I though!" he cried. "See, Marian—here's the five hundred!"</p> + +<p>"I should think," she said, glancing at it indifferently, "that you'd +join the regular army."</p> + +<p>"You bet I will, if the time ever comes when we've got to fight! I +wouldn't ask for anything better! Gee, I wish we'd declare war +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"I rather think," she slowly replied, "that your wish is very near +fulfillment, Jeb."</p> + +<p>He turned quickly and stared at her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What makes you say that?" he asked, tensely.</p> + +<p>Had her eyes been looking at him then she might have seen something in +his drawn face and blanched cheeks that would have struck dismay into +her very soul; but, as it was, she attributed the question purely and +simply to his eagerness for service, and answered with a suggestion of +sharpness that was not lost on him:</p> + +<p>"Because there's a limit, Jeb, to the patience of a country, just as +there is to the patience of men and women. Even the mildest of us reach +the end of our endurance, sooner or later," she added, not knowing +whether she wanted to laugh or be furious.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come," he cried, squaring his shoulders. "I thought maybe you had +some inside news from your father! Don't be a gloom, Marian! The war's +three thousand miles away from us, and that's where it's going to +stay—take my word for it!"</p> + +<p>"But I thought you were crazy for it," she turned on him in surprise.</p> + +<p>He shifted uneasily, but his voice rang strong and true as he answered:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am crazy for it! What d'you suppose I've been getting ready for all +these months? But you leave wars and that sort of thing to us men! You +haven't anything to do with 'em!"</p> + +<p>"We have to nurse you in wars, Jeb, just as we do in times of peace," +she laughed. "Really, I don't see how such big babies as some men I know +can conduct a first class war, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>This was the old Marian again; lightly bantering, deliciously good to +look upon. He moved close to her, and asked earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Why did you run away from me?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to be a nurse," she answered.</p> + +<p>"But why did you decide so quickly to be a nurse?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, then smiled:</p> + +<p>"It was better than the other alternative."</p> + +<p>"Now that you are a nurse, can't you accept the other alternative, too? +You know I want you just as much."</p> + +<p>His voice, deep and resonant with a timbre that went to women's hearts, +thrilled her delightfully. But she had not forgiven him for the paper +target episode, wherein she had been pushed aside to make way for his +skill. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> were, moreover, plans that had been fermenting in her mind +for many months—plans of which marriage should not be a part—and she +answered him frankly:</p> + +<p>"I really don't know at all, Jeb—I haven't had time to think. Of +course, should our country get into this war, daddy has promised to let +me go across at once; otherwise he insists that I can't. Still, if I go +to France, you will, too, for that matter," she added brightly. Then the +color flew to her cheeks. "Maybe when I saw you in uniform, Jeb, and +realized that you—that we might neither of us get back, then I +might—we might——"</p> + +<p>She was looking down, unable to go farther without assistance; but he +offered none, and they stood for several moments in absolute +silence—for a quick spasm of fright had shot across his soul! The +sublimity of her partial surrender, contingent only upon his +transportation to a foreign battlefield, suddenly brought the war from +three thousand miles away to his very door. But his next feeling was one +of self-contempt, and squaring his shoulders with a jerk he said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I love your pluck! Then it's all settled."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't all settled by a great deal," she laughed; but, seeing his +face, gasped in mock astonishment. "Heavens! Which is making you look so +like a ghost—marriage or war?"</p> + +<p>"They're quite synonymous," he replied, trying to match her banter. "May +I speak to your illustrious father?"</p> + +<p>"That reminds me that I've an engagement with him right now," she +exclaimed. "For the present, you may say good-bye to Miss Sallie and +Miss Veemie for me."</p> + +<p>With a pretty smile and toss of her head she swept him a little +courtesy, then turned to the gate, but he called after her:</p> + +<p>"Wait! I'll go with you—and show him my targets!"</p> + +<p>She stopped, looking back as though she had not heard aright.</p> + +<p>"Targets?" she asked, slightly arching her brows.</p> + +<p>"Why, these, of course," he cried, drawing them again from his breast +pocket. "I always hunt him up, or the Colonel, when I've made a +cracker-jack score! It tickles 'em to death!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>He sprang to the gate and held it open for her to pass, apparently +having forgotten everything but a desire to reap praise from one or the +other of these old gentlemen; who in their turns, although separately, +had never failed to be genially appreciative. The flavor of war, which +filled the air as a restless spirit since diplomatic relations with +Germany had come to an end—the numb fear with which he had been +obsessed but a moment ago—were completely relegated to the limbo of +forgetfulness as he now issued forth in search of praise wherewith to +feed his vanity.</p> + +<p>Whenever it so happened that he failed to get a sufficient amount of +this from one or the other of these men, or from his adoring aunts, he +drew it from himself. He could not have named a night for months that he +had fallen asleep without first thinking of the splendid soldier he +would make. He would let his imagination run riot and live through +battle after battle, leading his men intrepidly—men who loved the very +ground on which he trod. Into the thickest places where old veterans +could not have stood the gaff, he went with calm indifference. Vic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>tory +followed victory—complete, hilarious victories! Dead Germans, +prisoners, and cannon which Jeb flung into the game bag of his waking +dreams, if put side by side, would have reached around the world.</p> + +<p>'Tis true, that this top-lofty state of mind suffered a complete relapse +when Bernstorff got his papers, and for the first time Jeb seriously +felt the cold fingers of fear reach out and touch him. It had been a +peculiar change, that for awhile startled him more than the imminence of +war. He might have been thrilled over the wild race, the reckless dash, +as of unbridled horses, with which a nation long in suspense hurtled +toward a finality; but it was an elation thoroughly dampened by dread. +As the days had passed, however, and nothing more terrible happened, his +courage came creeping back, even growing into modest bravado. Excursions +to the country with his rifle became frequent again. He began to feel +himself stiffen-up when Miss Sallie would tell a neighbor how he was +getting ready for the possible war; this neighbor told other neighbors, +and he was soon basking in admiring looks which were as meat and drink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +to him. It was on this crest of popularity that Marian found him when +she returned to Hillsdale.</p> + +<p>With a face utterly devoid of expression she watched him now while he +held back the gate with one hand while trying to stuff the bulkily +folded targets into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd rather carry them, Marian," he said, "and we can look at +them again on the way downtown!"</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> + +<p>"I always take them down to your father, you know," he said again.</p> + +<p>"I should think daddy would be immensely flattered," she observed, +passing out to the street.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the gate closed after them when Miss Sallie and Miss +Veemie, guilt written in every line of their radiant faces, tiptoed from +the house, stepped into the garden and ran to the fence. As they had +formerly done while watching Colonel Hampton stalk angrily townward, +they now, also, leaned farther and farther over the pickets, keeping the +young people who comprised their hope in view to the very last.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p>Colonel Hampton, after leaving the Tumpson sisters in a fog of +astonishment, did not pause at the hotel and sink into the porch chair +that had become his by right of daily occupation. This morning his mind +was set upon greater things. Affectionate greetings from passing friends +hardly checked him, and he strode deliberately onward to the office of +the Hills County <i>Eagle</i>, the daily, owned and edited by Amos Strong—a +long ago friend, although for twice a score of years his most +unrelenting political foe. There had been a time when the town +prophesied a "meeting" between these two, but their enmity had finally +congealed into nothing more deadly than complete estrangement.</p> + +<p>Now, indifferent to a look of consternation on a reporter's face, the +Colonel stamped across<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> the "city room," glared around until he saw a +glass door marked "editor," pushed it violently open without knocking +and closed it after him. This had not happened in the reporter's memory; +it had, on the other hand, been just the thing everybody feared might +come to pass.</p> + +<p>The grizzled editor did not immediately look up; yet, when he did, his +astonishment was complete, and his ever alert mind reviewed the +<i>Eagle's</i> recent utterances to discover if therein lay a reason for this +visit. Recalling nothing of particular belligerency—at any rate, +nothing against the Colonel—he said crisply:</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, Colonel Hampton."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Hampton will never take a seat in your office, sir," his caller +thundered, greatly emphasizing "Colonel Hampton." And, answering a +further look of perplexity in the editor's face that now betrayed a +growing anger, he continued jerkily: "We're coming very near to war, +sir; this country, our country, against those sickening anti-Christs who +bayonet children, rape women, and wantonly torture unto death +defenseless men—and boast of it, sir; gloat over it! It'll be our +country against that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> polluted swamp of slimy creatures, sir; and in our +country there shall be neither Democrats nor Republicans! Politics be +damned, sir! Until those breeders of paresis—those Hohenzollern +upstarts who, as God is my witness, are the vomit of hell—shall be +stripped of their freedom, you and I cast our vote for Humanity! Amos, I +want to take your hand, and I want you to take mine!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong sprang to his feet and his chair fell heavily to the floor. +It was this alarming noise that reached the listening reporter's ear and +brought him in haste to his chief's aid; yet when he had pushed open the +door, unnoticed by those within, he drew quickly back and tiptoed to his +desk. There are some things at which even a reporter may not gaze.</p> + +<p>"Do you agree with me that there should and will be war, Roger?" Mr. +Strong was saying half an hour later. They were comfortably settled now, +with cigars alight, and except for slight traces where tears had marked +their cheeks no one would have suspected aught but a lifetime of +congeniality.</p> + +<p>"Both should and will, Amos! It is one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> the few expressions in your +columns with which I have thoroughly concurred."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong burst into a merry laugh and waved the handkerchief that was +still in his hand, crying:</p> + +<p>"Truce, truce! You forget, Roger!"</p> + +<p>"So I do, so I do, Amos! We sha'n't open the old wounds again—at least, +not so long as our country is in need of cohesion. My anger, I assure +you, was never as great as my amazement that one of your talents +could—but there, there! I may have been somewhat wrong, also—as a +matter of fact, Amos, I shouldn't be surprised if that were so! Tell me +of Marian! When is she coming back to us again?"</p> + +<p>A look of new pleasure crossed the editor's grizzled face as he +answered:</p> + +<p>"She got home last night, Roger—and the first thing she did was to ask +about you, whom she believed I hated!" Again he laughed, with a buoyancy +that had not been in his voice for many years.</p> + +<p>"She did that?" the Colonel cried, his eyes filling with tears. "God +bless her! She's a noble girl, worthy of her noble father! Do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> know, +Amos, I'm beginning to believe that she showed extraordinary foresight +in taking that training! Why, even I considered it a romantic waste of +time,—and so did you, Roger," he turned accusingly. "Admit it!"</p> + +<p>"I did, but I wanted to humor her; for the purpose was noble, and it +does a girl no harm. But I hope she won't hold me to a foolish promise I +made, to let her go across should we become involved in this titanic +struggle."</p> + +<p>"God guide her aright," the Colonel whispered; to which his old friend +murmured:</p> + +<p>"Amen."</p> + +<p>"I stopped by the Tumpson's," the Colonel resumed, after they had been +for a moment silent. "Miss Sallie tells me that Jeb is out again with +his rifle, as usual, and is showing more eagerness to be ready. I +believe all our young men will respond nobly if the President calls for +volunteers."</p> + +<p>"Without a doubt of it, Roger; and Jeb ought to make a fine +soldier—although he's had no military training."</p> + +<p>"Well, no; but he's a handsome fellow, and a gentleman, and his father +was our friend,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> Amos. I can coach him, and give him a pretty fair idea +of what war is like."</p> + +<p>"There's some talk of schools being inaugurated for teaching such chaps +as he, should the struggle really come; schools where the most approved +methods of modern warfare will be demonstrated by our regularly +qualified officers."</p> + +<p>"Schools be damned, sir," the Colonel thundered. "What school, what +infant West Pointer, is qualified better than I, who fought my weight in +wildcats four successive years!—or you, sir, who I've no doubt fought +well, too, although under the banner of a——"</p> + +<p>"Truce, truce!" Mr. Strong cried, this time laughing till tears of +pleasure ran down his cheeks. "At Shiloh, Roger, you knew how to honor a +truce, for I carried the flag to you myself—and you weren't old enough +to raise a mustache, either!"</p> + +<p>"So you did, Amos; so you did—and, by gad, your cheeks were as smooth +as a girl's, too!" the Colonel's voice dropped to the softness of +reminiscence, growing harsh again as he added: "If I temporarily forget +the rules of honorable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> warfare, it's because my memory has been +corrupted by the vileness of those Outcasts who, in their ego-mania, +blaspheme the Almighty God by claiming kinship with Him. I wish you and +I could go over there and clean up that pestilential Prussian herd! By +gad, sir, they've the hoof and mouth disease, each confounded one of +them! Whenever I think of them I get rush of blood to the head!"</p> + +<p>"And rush of words to the tongue, Roger," the editor added, good +naturedly. "But, my friend, such blasts of hatred are too German to be +acceptable. We're not a nation of small venom!"</p> + +<p>"I don't give a cracky whether we are or not! Those rag-tag and bobtail +vermin are calling us names!—and, if I can't fight, by gad, I'll cuss +back!"</p> + +<p>"No, you won't, and be part of the big, conquering nation that you are. +Those 'hymns of hate' don't affect England!—neither do the scores of +lewd verses that flow like filth all over Germany! They are merely the +wails of disappointed people, Roger,—the shrieks of a cruelly tricked +national soul! Let them pass!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Disappointed people fiddle-sticks!—and I say that it's a tragic +mistake to let anything pass! The most dangerous propaganda waged by +German spies in this country—more alarming in its results thus far than +the blowing up of munition factories, the setting afire of grain +elevators, the enciting of Mexico—has been the honorless skill with +which they have fed the American mind upon the idea of a disgruntled +Germany, a starving Germany, and all such twaddle! Can't you see why +such tales are being circulated? Simply to inject into our minds the +poison of national inertia, so that when war comes—as it some day +shall—every fellow will be likely to think: 'Oh, it can't last long +now!—let the other boys get ready; I haven't time!'"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought of that, Roger."</p> + +<p>"Then think of it now; and, furthermore, remember this, Amos: that no +sooner will war be declared before their propaganda will go one step +farther. Do you know what it will be? Peace talk! Crumbling Germany +ready to make terms! Why? Simply to keep filling our systems with more +of the national inertia poison—to keep us retarded—to keep us from +dash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>ing into the big game with every fibre quivering, and our souls +afire to finish it up! Berlin's hope is that while America grows sleek +with too much optimism, Germany will grow stronger to prolong her +insolent and murderous campaign. Open your columns, Amos, and shout +these truths broadcast—for therein will rest the salvation of our +country! Germany poor in food or munitions?—fiddle-sticks! The German +people disgruntled?—twaddle!"</p> + +<p>"Where do you get this idea?" Mr. Strong looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Out of my good, common horse-sense brain! You recall that story of the +German Government confiscating the people's copper utensils and taking +copper from the roofs of buildings, to keep up the manufacture of +ammunition? Any school boy should have known that they didn't +appropriate one copper pot, nor lift an inch of copper roofing, when the +vast mines of Sweden pour their enormous output—not only of copper, but +of unrivaled iron ore—in almost a continuous stream from Stockholm to +Lübeck Bay; and von Capelle's fleet is there to see it safely across, +too! The cry came forth that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> they were short of cotton for +explosives—and that cry was sent out on the very day a national holiday +had been proclaimed to celebrate their discovery of a method by which +all types of high explosives can be made without cotton! Why, Amos, +lying is a fine art with that government! I read in your own paper a +long and pathetic ditty, cabled from Amsterdam, about 'starving +Germany!' Don't you know that, with the millions of deported Belgians, +Serbians, and Poles—to say nothing of the war prisoners—Germany should +have this year a larger acreage under cultivation than at any time since +the Confederation? They know how to farm intensively over there, and get +their fertilizer, as they have already been getting their fats—from +their own dead. These are but the beginnings of other things our common +sense would teach us, were we not hypnotized with a morbid craving to +swallow their neatly prepared fairy-tales!"</p> + +<p>"Roger," Mr. Strong sprang to his feet, "by the eternal, you speak +inspired words! They <i>have</i> poisoned us with lies of a starving Imperial +Government; they'll continue to poison us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> with lies of an early +peace—and then prepare fresh blows while we wallow in our +self-complaisance! Open my columns? They'll blaze as columns of +righteous fire!" Leaning forward, he added: "Why shouldn't we be getting +ready here in Hillsdale? There's fine material for a company of militia! +Will you join with me in equipping one?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel banged his hand down on the table.</p> + +<p>"Done!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"And there," the editor continued, pointing out of the window, "is the +captain for it!"</p> + +<p>In an instant the Colonel was upon his feet, looking across the street +to where his old friend pointed.</p> + +<p>"Jeb!—and Marian!" he added, his voice ringing with delight. "Which is +going to be the captain, Amos?" he chuckled. "By Gad, they're coming up! +He'll make a fine officer!"</p> + +<p>But Amos Strong was looking tenderly at the girl; then he turned and +caught the Colonel's hand, crying:</p> + +<p>"Roger, we'll set the pace for every city and town throughout our +country. We'll equip the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> company, so it'll be ready to go at the first +crack—and Jeb will be a credit!"</p> + +<p>"One who'll capture hearts as well as Huns, I'll warrant—if he's not +already a helpless prisoner!"</p> + +<p>The two old men looked at each other and smiled, and it was while they +were in this attitude that Marian and Jeb entered.</p> + +<p>She stopped on the threshold, scarcely believing her eyes; and Jeb, +looking over her head, was no less mystified. That these two sworn +enemies should be standing there, holding hands in all friendliness, +surpassed the miraculous.</p> + +<p>The men had turned cordially to welcome her, but hesitated at the +amazement that was pictured in her face. Their reconciliation had been +so spontaneously genuine that it seemed already to be a thing of long +standing, and they did not penetrate Marian's embarrassment until she +timidly advanced, asking:</p> + +<p>"Is it all right for us to come in, Daddy? Were you and Colonel Hampton +really shaking hands?"</p> + +<p>He approached swiftly and took her in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> arms, turning to the Colonel +and repeating the girl's question:</p> + +<p>"Were we really shaking hands, Roger?"</p> + +<p>"By gad, Amos, we've been shaking hands every day for forty years, only +we didn't know it!"</p> + +<p>"You should have come in before, Roger."</p> + +<p>"How, in thunder, could I come in, when your perverted editorial columns +were——"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" Marian cried, running to him and throwing her arms about his +neck. "Do you want it to begin all over again, just when I have you both +together for the first time in my life?"</p> + +<p>But her father laughed good-naturedly, knowing that as soon as he called +"Truce!" the irate Colonel would subside.</p> + +<p>"How in the world did it happen?" she asked, still clinging to the +Colonel's neck and looking up into his eyes which were fast growing +moist with tears of happiness. "Tell me at once, which of you was +generous enough to make the first move?"</p> + +<p>"Poof and nonsense!" he exclaimed, trying to frown upon her severely. +"There was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> generosity about it! I reckon Amos and I know where each +other lives!"</p> + +<p>"You'll tell me, Daddy," she turned to him. "Which of you big babies was +big enough——"</p> + +<p>"Don't tell her a thing, Amos," the Colonel thundered, getting red.</p> + +<p>"So you're the one, then," she smiled up at him. "I'm going to call you +Uncle Roger!"—and she kissed him.</p> + +<p>"I wish she'd call me Uncle Jeb," came a half sigh from across the +table.</p> + +<p>"She'll be calling you <i>Captain</i> Jeb,—eh, Roger?" Mr. Strong laughed. +"Tell them about it!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," the Colonel said, wiping his glasses, "my best friend, here, has +proposed that he and I recruit a company of soldiers, equip it, and have +it ready for business. Jeb is to be its captain."</p> + +<p>"You mean uniforms, and everything?" Jeb cried.</p> + +<p>"Uniforms and everything," Mr. Strong emphatically answered. "The story +will run in to-morrow's <i>Eagle</i>, and we'll take recruits right here in +this office, where Colonel Hampton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>—your Uncle Roger," he pinched +Marian's cheek, "will have charge. We'll wire Washington for a hundred +and fifty equipments, and be drilling by this time next week. Now, what +do you think about it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm crazy about it," Jeb shouted; and Marian, catching his hands, +cried:</p> + +<p>"<i>Captain</i> Jeb! I'm as proud of you as I can be!"</p> + +<p>His eyes were sparkling as he gazed down at her; his vivid imagination +had lost no time picturing the khaki-clad lads, with him at their head, +marching, drilling, and doing all manner of things of which he could not +have told the names but had seen in the movies. She gloried in his +enthusiasm, and squeezed his hands again, whispering:</p> + +<p>"I'm proud of you!"</p> + +<p>"There must be books and manuals and the like in Washington," the +Colonel was saying, "which teach the duties of a captain; so we'll wire +for them, also. Then I'll coach you, Jeb; I'll make an officer out of +you, you young cub!"</p> + +<p>More and more each of them had caught the spirit. Jeb's eyes danced; his +pulse was bound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>ing; his dreams of military splendor were coming true. +Marian had clasped her hands and rather worshipfully stared at him. Mr. +Strong stood with legs apart, looking him over with unfeigned +admiration; while the Colonel, also gazing, unconsciously drummed a +marching tattoo with his fingers on the table.</p> + +<p>It all seemed so easy! With the simple faith of men who implicitly +believed the War Department would suspend business to fulfil their +wishes, they decided to order uniforms and wire the Hillsdale +representative to dash out in search of books. Jeb would absorb the +books and become a captain; the Colonel, ensconced in Mr. Strong's room, +would recruit the company, which, in turn, would don the uniforms and +make Hillsdale gasp at its brilliant efficiency. Flags would wave, +citizens would applaud, and the President would send a message of +fervent congratulations. That was the way it seemed to Jeb. He did not +dream of the nearness of the war, which had been viewed by him, as by +millions of others, as a mirage far off beyond the seas. Now he spoke in +a voice that trembled with pride:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll make it a company of sharpshooters in no time; for, if there's one +thing I can do, it's shoot! Look at my last targets!" he cried, drawing +them from his pocket.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the key out in the telegraph room began an agitated ticking. +It was too early for "A.P. stuff," but the reporter recognized, by long +association, sounds resembling the <i>Eagle's</i> call. Now he heard the +operator give a low whistle, and that, also, from long association, he +knew meant "flash!" so he sauntered back and sat on the table, waiting. +In another moment he burst into Mr. Strong's room, thrusting a message +across the targets which Jeb had just unfolded.</p> + +<p>The editor read it and caught his breath, then passed it over to his +friend, with the brief remark to all:</p> + +<p>"War's declared!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel sprang up as if electrified. Standing at full height he +clasped both hands above his face and fervently cried:</p> + +<p>"Thank God! The honor of our country is vindicated!"</p> + +<p>War! Jeb felt suddenly sick and dizzy. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> targets which had meant so +much to him, taking on a lustre as if they were jewels in his crown of +pride, and passports to a military future, became gray and sordid. He +hated them, he hated everything they stood for, and, seeing the eyes of +Marian and her father fixed upon the Colonel, he surreptitiously dropped +them to the floor, pushing them farther out of sight beneath the table +with his foot.</p> + +<p>"War!" Marian gasped, as though she were struggling to take in the full +significance of this startling news. Then she flew to the editor and +wrapped him in her arms, saying excitedly: "Oh, Daddy, remember your +promise! I'm going!—I'm going! You <i>said</i> I could if it ever came!—and +I'm all ready, Daddy dear, for the very first boat that leaves!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel could not have told why, but suddenly he burst into tears, +coughed, made a great fuss pulling himself together, and thundered:</p> + +<p>"War! War on the damnedest hierachy of fiends—if I may use the +term—the world has ever known! And we're going to thrash 'em if it +takes the last drop of blood in Hillsdale; yes, sir, the very last drop! +You, Jeb, will now lead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> your company into the thick of it! Lord, boy, +but I envy you!"</p> + +<p>Marian left her father and ran to Jeb.</p> + +<p>"Oh, just think!—maybe we can go on the same——" She stopped short, +frightened at the appearance of his face. She tried to finish the +sentence, but stammered over it as though her eyes, dilated with horror, +were holding her tongue captive by what she saw.</p> + +<p>Amos Strong had turned and was looking out of the window, overcome by +the far-reaching consequences of his promise made half thoughtlessly two +years before, and he therefore did not see the mute tragedy being played +behind him; but the Colonel missed none of it, although his faith in Jeb +was too deeply rooted to be shaken. He merely believed that his young +friend had been shocked—for the moment shocked—and nothing more; a +belief which he considered justified when Jeb, calling upon every ounce +of the Tumpson pride, forced his knees to stiffen and his lips to smile.</p> + +<p>Marian approached him.</p> + +<p>"Jeb," she said, laughing a little hysterically, "you frightened me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How?" he turned to her slowly, still hammering himself into better +control.</p> + +<p>"Never mind now! Some day I'll offer you an apology."</p> + +<p>Although she was still laughing, the Colonel saw at once what had been +passing in her mind. It was an unfair suspicion, he thought, one +unworthy of her, and for an instant his anger flamed. <i>He'd</i> show her +what kind of stuff the son of his old friend was made of! He'd make her +repent bitterly, by letting her realize that, once in France, Jeb might +be lost to her forever! It was a cruelty unlike the Colonel, but he was +mad through and through. To touch Jeb's honor was akin to touching his +own. So he joined in laughing with her, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Jeb, your company will get the pick of it, for it's always the first +boys over who draw the primest fighting—and you ought to be on the +firing line by June! Think of that, sir! Why, it'll be another case of +Kitchener's first hundred thousand—you'll get chewed up into little +bits! Gad, but I envy you! Why, I'll bet a cooky there isn't a fellow in +your company<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> who comes out with both legs! It's an opportunity of a +life time, sir!"</p> + +<p>Had Jeb not been quick enough to know that Marian was closely watching +him, he might have cried aloud for the Colonel to be quiet. The old +gentleman's enthusiastic words, in contrast to Jeb's earlier vision of +gay uniforms, flashing bayonets, flags, soft smiles and dewy eyes, made +the picture of actual war take on a thousand new horrors. He felt sick; +the next instant he hated himself—but, above all other things, these +people must never suspect him!</p> + +<p>In the midst of this depression, while he seemed to be standing on a +slave-block, while critical eyes bored him for defects, he thought of +somebody's prophecy that the war would be over by July. This was a very +large straw for Jeb just then, so he grasped it eagerly, summoning +another grin and saying with a tremendous effort to keep his voice +steady:</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask for a greater picnic—if we get there in time! But some +people think Germany's about done for!"</p> + +<p>"That's because Germany <i>wants</i> us to think so." Mr. Strong, still +looking out of the win<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>dow, flung the words over his shoulder. "It's a +crafty part of their scheme to bait us—Roger has opened my eyes to +that!"</p> + +<p>"By gad," the Colonel exclaimed, immensely pleased by the editor's +acknowledgment, "the war won't be over until the armies of William the +Vile, the Prussian Outcast Emperor, are licked to a frazzle—and that's +going to take five million of our men, a hundred billion of our dollars, +and a damned sight longer than any year, or two years, or three years; +you can bet your last nickel on it!"</p> + +<p>Marian gasped, and turned quickly away in order that he might not see +her. She had not been as much affected by his words as by another look +in Jeb's grinning, sickly face which made her want to run and hide—and +cry. She, more than any of those present, could read his expressions +like type in a book; yet in all justice to him she had never before seen +an indication of cowardice and, impulsively loyal, desiring only to +rescue him in time so that the Colonel might not find him out, she swung +upon the old fellow's arm, saying gaily:</p> + +<p>"He's unhappy thinking he won't get a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> chance!—that's what's the +matter, Uncle Roger!"</p> + +<p>But even this new and affectionate title of "Uncle Roger" did not at +once penetrate the old gentleman's mind. His eyes, which had been fixed +on Jeb with an expression of hopefulness, were now studiously looking at +the floor. Rather hysterically, Marian caught the lapels of his coat and +put her face directly in his range of vision, crying:</p> + +<p>"That's what it is!—I know it, Uncle Roger! Please understand me!"</p> + +<p>"Sure, that's what it is," Jeb shouted forcefully, seeing the brink upon +which he had been standing, and making an heroic effort to act the part +of a man. "Sure it is," he repeated, with even more emphasis. "I don't +care how long the darned old war lasts!—it's only how short it might +last, that gets my goat!"</p> + +<p>Marian was not deceived, but the Colonel, looking as though twenty years +had been taken from his shoulders, swallowed it whole and struck the +table sharply with his hand.</p> + +<p>"By gad!" he cried, in a voice of thunder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> "I know it, lad; I know it! +For a second—why, by gad, sir!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong turned from the window.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Roger?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Marian, seeing traces of tears upon his cheeks—and guessing well the +reason—affectionately took his hand and pressed it to her lips. But her +eyes were staring, somewhat fearfully, at the Colonel, who cleared his +throat, looked at her steadily, and answered:</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Amos."</p> + +<p>"I—I'd better be going now," Jeb suggested, "for Aunt Sallie and Aunt +Veemie will want to hear the news."</p> + +<p>"Tell them the town will be proud of you, my boy," Mr. Strong gave him a +salute; and the Colonel, in his enthusiasm forgetting he had harbored a +doubt of Jeb, shouted:</p> + +<p>"And tell 'em I wouldn't be surprised if some day we put up a monument +to you! When a fellow charges through hails of bullets, each singing him +a lullaby, he never knows what instant one will come 'chunk!' into his +stomach! Gad, but it's a great game! I envy you, boy! And I'm going to +teach you all I know, so you'll be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> the best prepared officer that ever +stepped on foreign soil. You'll know how to lean low while charging, +sir, to escape some of the fire—for a man can keep on going with a hole +in his arm, or leg, or maybe his face, but protect your stomach, sir! A +hole through it brings on nausea, and nine times out of ten you'll have +to sit down. Officers don't sit down, sir, till they're knocked down for +keeps!"</p> + +<p>Jeb had walked to the door, using all of his will power to shut out +these words which had so nearly snapped the last thread of his waning +courage. Thus far, he felt assured, no one in the room had suspected the +turmoil that had well nigh driven him frantic. It was not cowardice, he +told himself; merely a loss of self-control—for how could a chap remain +calm while the old Colonel was shooting his stomach full of holes? His +quick perception of situations made it clear that his exit now must +remove whatever vestige of doubt there might have existed in the minds +of those behind him, and, turning at the threshold, he laughed +boisterously:</p> + +<p>"I'll remember everything, Colonel! You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> just teach me how to do it, and +between us the Huns'll get all their hides can hold!" He slammed the +door, and was gone.</p> + +<p>"I'd forgotten you were such a bloodthirsty old wildcat, Roger," Mr. +Strong began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"You've had no cause to," the Colonel looked humorously across at him. +"But my bark in this case was worse than my bite. I merely wanted to +stir the young man's ardor so that he'll be the more keen for a smell of +powder. Did you note his eyes sparkling, Amos?—did you, Marian?"</p> + +<p>Marian had not stirred during the Colonel's admonitions to Jeb. She had +been sitting limply in her father's desk chair, looking at the targets +which lay crumpled and forgotten beneath the table. Now she answered +listlessly:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I noticed it."</p> + +<p>Her tone, as well as her attitude, caught the Colonel's attention and +sobered him. He glanced toward Amos Strong, who had again turned to the +window and, with hands crossed behind his back, was gazing down into the +street; then whispered guardedly:</p> + +<p>"You mustn't jump at conclusions, my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> little girl. Jeb's the soul +of honor, and of courage; he's just a mite unstrung, that's all—why +shouldn't he be?"</p> + +<p>"Why do you think I'm jumping at conclusions?" she asked, smiling at +him. "He ought to make a very fine soldier, and I'm sure he will."</p> + +<p>"He will, indeed," the old fellow patted her cheek. "And now let me beg +of you, for your dear father's sake, to let the honor of Hillsdale rest +with Jeb, and you stay home here with us!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I couldn't stay home," she moved restlessly. "Don't put your plea +on old daddy's account—it isn't fair! He has you, now," she added, +trying to smile bravely. "Why, Uncle Roger, I was counting on you to +support me!"</p> + +<p>"There, there! I will, I will! When do you want to start?"</p> + +<p>"To-day," she answered, again listlessly.</p> + +<p>"To-day?" he cried in astonishment. "Why, my dear child——"</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet, fighting back tears, and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly to-day," she said quickly. "Aren't men falling +to-day?—suffering and crying for help to-day? Are the Germans going<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> to +stop firing until I get there?—or any of us can get there? Don't you +see the sooner everyone gets busy the sooner it will be over?—and can't +you see that I—I can't stay here a minute longer than is absolutely +necessary?" She looked down again at the fallen targets, and a little +shiver seemed to pass over her; then she crossed to her father, tiptoed +behind him and put her arms around his neck. "Your promise, Daddy?" she +asked, tenderly.</p> + +<p>He wheeled, almost savagely, and gathered her close to him, saying +huskily:</p> + +<p>"Your daddy never went back on a promise, dear."</p> + +<p>"Damn those Hun outcasts!" the Colonel thundered, stamping from the room +and banging the door after him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p>Jeb had stepped out upon the street with heavy feet. There was a dull +weight at his heart; a sickening weariness permeated his entire body. +The Colonel's words of warning to protect his stomach, the suggestion of +bullets ploughing through it, caused him to stop and loosen his belt, +which had begun to feel uncomfortable. He even ran his had over that +part of his anatomy and found that it seemed actually to be tender.</p> + +<p>"What the hell's the matter with me?" he asked himself. "I'm no coward; +there hasn't been a coward in my family since the Crusade. No, it's the +Colonel's eternal cackling that's got my goat!"</p> + +<p>Heartened somewhat, he continued at a faster pace and soon turned +through the side gate, thence across the porch into the Tumpson home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +Miss Sallie's voice from upstairs greeted him.</p> + +<p>"Back safe, Jeb?"</p> + +<p>The tenderness of her inquiry, subtly—though +unintentionally—suggesting that the manor lord had returned and +therefore the womenfolk must haste with ministering, greatly restored +his self-esteem. Again the sword began to lose its tarnish; again it +flashed in his hand with zest; again in imagination his company stepped +off with the precision of regulars!</p> + +<p>"War's declared," he shouted. "Colonel Hampton and Mr. Strong have +patched up their fuss, and are going to recruit a company and make me +captain. We'll be smashing the Germans inside a month!"</p> + +<p>He wondered at the strength with which these last words were spoken, and +was on the point of repeating them because their sound had caressed his +pride, when Miss Sallie gave a cry.</p> + +<p>"Sister Veemie," she called, "come with me quickly! War is declared, and +our Jeb has been appointed to lead the soldiers! Oh, what shall become +of us!"</p> + +<p>The last symptoms of trepidation lingering in his make-up now +disappeared entirely, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> was a tall, proud, imperious officer who +stood in the front hall waiting for the little ladies who, hand-in-hand, +came timidly down. Without speaking, Miss Veemie crossed to where he +stood. She did not seem to walk, but glide, so smooth and gentle was her +movement and the flow of her wide, rather old-fashioned skirt. Tiptoeing +and putting her arms around his neck, she simply whispered:</p> + +<p>"Jeb!"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, Aunt Veemie," he said, feeling delightfully heroic, "it isn't +anything to take on about. We're at war, and at it for keeps!—that's +all there is to it! I've been honored with a captaincy, and we'll be in +France before July Fourth, and in Berlin by Thanksgiving. Think of +that!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie caught his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeb," she cried, "if your dear father had lived to hear you speak +thus spiritedly!"</p> + +<p>"We're so proud of you, dear," Miss Veemie whispered, her eyes gazing up +at him through tears of adulation. "You'll try not to get hurt, won't +you?" She admonished simply from force of habit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>It might have been a war god who dined in their home that evening. He +was seated in Jeb's place, and on either side of him sat a seamed though +gentle handmaiden, missing no opportunity to load his plate with good +things. Their faded cheeks were tinged with a glow that had not been +there in many years, their eyes sparkled with an almost forgotten light, +and the lace on their narrow-breasted bodices rose and fell with an +agitation that required at times a delicate hand to still.</p> + +<p>The talk was of war, and Jeb handled the subject to his entire +satisfaction. His highly strung mind drew pictures that more and more +stirred their admiration—and horror. Working upon fragments of fact +that from day to day had been printed in the <i>Eagle</i>, he built a +structure of sacrifice and slaughter from which he alone arose supreme. +It was a dramatic dissertation and contained red-blooded sentiments that +would have done credit to a man who had actually played the giant game, +swapped trick for trick with death, and won out by sheer luck.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, he believed himself; he believed that his moment of +weakness earlier in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> the day had now passed into the limbo of things +never to be resurrected; he believed that his courage was absolute, that +no terrors were great enough to shake it. The ancient Egyptians brought +a skeleton to their feasts to remind them of death, but Jeb's apparent +familiarity with carnage seemed to be giving him new life.</p> + +<p>A man may think he possesses a determined belief, yet unless he has +energy and faith enough to test it he is harboring little more than a +wish, a hope. If he is downright honest he will not permit himself to be +deceived—but the trouble is that hopes which he wishes were beliefs, +and wishes that he hopes will become beliefs, are blindfolds +deliberately placed across his eyes to spare him an unrestricted vision +of his naked soul. This is the most common type of cowardice in the +world.</p> + +<p>The brave words Jeb uttered were most agreeable to his senses; they fed +the hole that should have been filled with courage, and he therefore +plunged onward into the realm of imageries until the little ladies felt +that they had never really known their Jeb. Certain were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> they that his +manliness had received a most inadequate appreciation.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, he left them for the quietude of the garden. Back and forth +upon the path, bordered by wee budding tulips, he walked with springing +steps. His gaze was in the laced branches overhead, a tangle that broke +the calm flood of moonlight into silver patches and scattered them over +the ground. Back and forth across these he strode—one moment in sharp +outline, the next obscured—thinking, dreaming. He would not stop to +hear the unspoken message of this place, whispering to him everywhere +that the intricate mesh of branches represented Fear, through which the +pulseless courage shed upon man from God is shattered. He would not see, +in the tiny green tips pushing through the earth, that man's blooming +into perfection is a slow process, dependent upon the cultivation of his +soul. In this night of his greatest promise, he asked only to live with +dreams.</p> + +<p>The soil surrounding Jeb's progress thus far in life had been prepared +by his two adoring aunts with very much the same care they be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>stowed on +their tulips. After he was put into their hands at the age of four, +neither their time, nor thought, nor means were spared in forcing his +development. But while Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie could intensify the +development of a tulip, it might not be said that they knew anything +about boys. To a critical eye—had it watched Jeb now walking this way +and that as a restive animal—the fruit of their labor would without +doubt have been pronounced satisfactory; yet only in a visual sense +could he have been called animal. So far as concerned temperament he was +merely a fretful peri locked up in a cage of flowers—for how in the +name of all creation had it been possible for Miss Sallie and Miss +Veemie, sole proprietresses of this male machine, to make him properly +masculine!</p> + +<p>Within the dining-room there were no dreams. As he had passed out, the +little ladies remained silent for several minutes. Slowly Miss Sallie +raised her eyes and looked at her sister, then sharply exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, now, Veemie!"</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," the other choked. "It's an outrage for the Colonel to +have selected Jeb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> to do all those horrid things! He's nothing but a +boy!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie was seldom out of patience with her more tender sister, yet +at this moment her love and her patriotism—by which is meant her heart +and soul—were violently in conflict. Fearing lest the former might +prevail, she replied with greater asperity:</p> + +<p>"Well, be a fool if you must, but for pity sake don't let Jeb see you! +He's no boy any more; since this morning he's grown into a big, mature +man!—just the kind we need to end this horrible war! As for Marian, +she'll be glad enough to wait for him!"</p> + +<p>Miss Sallie appeared not to see her sister rise hurriedly and leave the +room; but she waited, listening, until a door upstairs slammed, then +called softly to their maid:</p> + +<p>"Be sure that Mr. Jeb's room is right!"</p> + +<p>With this nightly admonition she went on tiptoe to her own room and +locked herself in. Until well nigh daylight a far-seeing God gazed +tenderly into the upturned faces of two women whose souls writhed in an +agony of pleading.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p>When Jeb opened his eyes next morning, rather heavy after a scanty +sleep, he did not at once remember the great change that had come into +his life. He vaguely knew something had happened; then suddenly the +captaincy loomed ahead, startling him as though it were an exploding +bomb. There was nothing imaginary about this, and he lay awhile +considering it.</p> + +<p>The same unpleasant weight crept over him; his heart beat rapidly, and +his body seemed to be very hollow. Unceasing panoramas of heroism cast +on his mental screen were one thing, but the military company in the +broad daylight of cold, hard fact did not appeal to him at all. +Embarking for a distant shore where men were torn by shells, where the +ground was slippery with the blood of countless thousands, where a +fellow's chances of getting back alive were, so he pictured it, one in a +million, brought a dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>tinct feeling of panic. He could see the air +literally filled with bursting shrapnel, while red-hot bullets from +machine-guns swept the earth as clean as a scythe goes through the +ripening wheat. Man simply could not endure in a hell like that! It was +utterly impossible!</p> + +<p>For a little while he gained a modicum of comfort by swearing at the +Administration, the President, the Cabinet. What right had they to +declare war, anyhow? Now, if we were going to fight Mexico!—or if the +Germans tried to come over <i>here</i>!—well, that would be a different +proposition!</p> + +<p>The usual tonic of his bath, a shave, fresh clothes and breakfast began +to improve the situation, but he was still desperately depressed. The +adoring solicitude of his aunts—more tender after their night of +prayerful and palpitating concentration—helped but little.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going this morning, dear?" Miss Sallie, trying to seem +natural, asked as he arose from the table. Miss Veemie repeated the +question with a look, not trusting herself to speak.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he answered, with that indifference<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> which is intended to imply +the highest type of courage—but never does unless the courage is +there!—"I suppose I ought to run downtown and see if the War Department +has answered about our uniforms and rifles. Then I'll stop by for a game +of tennis with Marian."</p> + +<p>Miss Veemie, still silent, closed her eyes as though shutting out a +reality that her prayers had been unable to dissolve. Her sister became +busy taking up and putting down into their same places the sideboard +silver. Jeb felt an undeniable interest in the uniforms and rifles, +looking forward to them very much as a condemned man might view a +gallows. Nevertheless, after he had walked halfway to the <i>Eagle</i> +office, the mood sufficiently passed for him to enter with a certain +amount of <i>savoir faire</i>.</p> + +<p>The Colonel had been there since eight o'clock, properly ensconced +behind a table especially placed for him. A ledger for recruits' names +lay open, with pens and ink-pot ready. Mr. Strong had not yet come down; +neither had a man thus far been recruited, although the <i>Eagle's</i> story +was setting Hillsdale aflame with patriotism.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Any news?" Jeb asked, shaking hands.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," the Colonel answered, leaning near the window to glance up at +the courthouse clock. "But our telegrams have been received, and the War +Department is doubtless busily packing the things at this moment. They +ought to reach here to-morrow, without fail, if sent by express—as they +will be sent, of course. In times of war, Jeb, materials have to move +quickly, remember that! It was the secret of Stonewall Jackson's +greatest strength—and of Napoleon's. They moved like meteors!"</p> + +<p>To-morrow! This brought the crisis so close that Jeb sat down and drew a +long breath. The old gentleman watched him for a moment, then in a voice +of tenderness asked:</p> + +<p>"Did you know that Marian leaves to-night? Her father is going with her +as far as New York."</p> + +<p>"Leaves for where?" Jeb exclaimed, straightening up.</p> + +<p>"For France, of course! Where else would she be leaving for at a time +like this? Her father burned the wires last night; although I know how +each message burned more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> deeply into his heart! They leave here about +midnight."</p> + +<p>Jeb remained silent, crushed by feelings of self-condemnation. How was +it that she possessed the courage to go, and he did not! The Colonel, +divining a different type of depression and wanting to cheer him up, +cried good humoredly:</p> + +<p>"Here, sir! Before giving yourself over to moonings, just sign this +page; then you'll belong to your government body and soul! Your name +should be the first, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>He held out the pen, but Jeb did not appear to see it. Instead, he arose +abruptly, saying:</p> + +<p>"I'll—I'll have to attend to something first," and he hurried out.</p> + +<p>"I'll sign it for you," the Colonel called; adding to himself, as he +chuckled merrily: "Gone after Marian, the young cub!"</p> + +<p>But Jeb was after nothing but to escape that terrifying page which +suddenly appeared to him as a chamber of horrors; he heard nothing now +but the Colonel's promise to sign it by proxy, and an outraged voice +within which called him to look upon the courage of a girl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> They were +driving him mad. He turned toward the open country, walking fast, but as +one who walks in sleep. Many tried to stop him, to congratulate him on +the good fortune of being a captain, but he rudely passed with scarcely +a word. Some looked after him, and a few complained rather knowingly:</p> + +<p>"That's the trouble with militarism; it makes the officers so stuck up!"</p> + +<p>On and on he went, to the wood where he had killed imaginary Germans; +and there, throwing himself on the ground, he began to fight another, a +very much more real battle.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile, long before the courthouse clock struck the hour of +noon, the Colonel had filled many pages of his ledger. Marian and her +father had come down, being afraid to leave each other during these last +few hours they would have together. The Colonel had told of Jeb's brief +visit, adding his own belief that the lad had gone out to the Strong +residence; and Marian took a seat by the window, where she could watch +the street and at the same time greet each recruit who entered to put +his name down on the company roster.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>Despite the nearness of her departure, Mr. Strong and Colonel Hampton +were almost joyous as they noted the happy, though firm, looks of +determination radiating from the faces of men who came in streams to +offer the best they had.</p> + +<p>The barber's assistant followed Hillsdale's most promising young lawyer; +the driver of Hincky's grocery wagon reached the door simultaneously +with the rising banker, and Mr. Strong felt a catch of pleasure at his +throat when the financier, stepping aside and putting a hand on the +driver's shoulder, said:</p> + +<p>"After you, old fellow!"</p> + +<p>An Italian bootblack from the hotel-stand looked in, asking shyly:</p> + +<p>"You tak'a me?"</p> + +<p>A woman in a faded dress brought her husky lad who twisted his hat with +awkward fingers.</p> + +<p>"He ain't quite twenty-one," she said, in a low voice, "so I come to +give consent. He wants to go, thank God!—an' I can git along."</p> + +<p>Colonel Hampton sprang up and embraced them both in one sweep of his +long arms; and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> when the woman cried a little, Marian soothed her with +endearing words of praise.</p> + +<p>Hillsdale, one way or another, was responding to its country's need. +During the day the recruiting list grew past the four-hundred mark—but, +although Marian's eyes grew tired gazing down upon those who were coming +and going in the street, nowhere did she get a glimpse of Jeb.</p> + +<p>There had been neither time nor thought of luncheon, and during a lull, +about the middle of the afternoon, she arose wearily, saying:</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go home now, and pack."</p> + +<p>Both of the old gentlemen turned and looked at her mutely, their eyes +expressive of pain; for in the excitement of recruiting they had +temporarily forgotten the nearness of her leaving.</p> + +<p>"Don't be sad," she smiled, bending over her father. "You'll have me for +several more days!" The Colonel, who for once forgot his gallantry and +remained seated, she kissed upon the forehead, murmuring: "I won't say +goodbye to you now, Uncle Roger, because I know you'll be down at the +train to-night. But you'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> promise me to take care of daddy, won't you? +And Daddy," she turned, making a brave effort to laugh, "you promise to +take care of Uncle Roger, too!"</p> + +<p>She realized that were either of them to attempt a word they would make +a sorry showing, and this would throw her into a torrential storm of +tears. Of all three in the editor's office, her shoulders carried the +heaviest burden. Each of the men was losing but one whom he loved; she +was losing two—and, besides these two, there was Jeb! Jeb, who had +thought more of his targets than of her return!—Jeb, who had not signed +the company roster, although over four hundred of Hillsdale's men had +come in gladly! She patted the Colonel's head and threw a hurried kiss +to her father, then was gone.</p> + +<p>"I've never been more proud of her," the Colonel said, beginning to +cough; and there was a huskiness in the editor's throat as he replied:</p> + +<p>"I wish her dear mother could have lived to share our pride, Roger."</p> + +<p>When at sundown the Colonel, closing his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> ledger with a bang, announced +the time was up, Mr. Strong took his arm and drew him gently from the +chair.</p> + +<p>"I don't make a practice of this, Roger," he said, "but I think we're +entitled to stop by the hotel for a small—er——"</p> + +<p>About this time a man, deep in a distant wood, turned wearily over on +the ground. His hair was disordered, and there were signs of suffering +in his face. A close observer would have noticed that his finger nails +were dirty, not from personal untidyness but because, while in some +mental anguish, they had been dug into the earth.</p> + +<p>As wearily as he had turned, he now arose, swaying slightly from his +long prostrate position. Then he started cityward, at the same moment +that Colonel Hampton and Mr. Strong were touching glasses, with an +unspoken toast, to the health and safety of a girl who personified the +fighting spirit of America.</p> + +<p>Long after Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie had retired that night Jeb sat in +the garden, a prey to desperate thoughts. When, far across the +undulating landscape, he heard the long, low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> whistle of an express that +would stop at Hillsdale, he arose and went slowly, with hesitating +steps, to the station. Mr. Strong and Marian and the Colonel were there +when he came within the circle of light; and, to his surprise, they +greeted him warmly—for he had feared this meeting, and would have been +almost glad to avoid it. Within his own conscience he had been so +pitilessly accused that it seemed as though every man and woman must +accuse him, also.</p> + +<p>Through the silence of that midnight hour they stood, speaking +nervously, oppressed by the torturing heaviness which accompanies such +partings. With an effort Marian turned to him suddenly:</p> + +<p>"When will you be coming over, Jeb?"</p> + +<p>He was expecting this question; before leaving the garden he knew to a +certainty that it would be asked, and now answered promptly:</p> + +<p>"I wish I were going with you to-night! But you're lucky in having had +your training, while mine is still to come. You can look for me, though, +just as soon as we can get the company in shape!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By gad," the Colonel exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeb," Marian leaned impulsively toward him, "you can't possibly +know how happy that makes me!"</p> + +<p>The rails were beginning to hum, and a glaring headlight shot into view. +It was but a matter of seconds then before the brake-shoes ground upon +the metal wheels—another few seconds for hasty adieux—and the train +was off again.</p> + +<p>Jeb and the Colonel watched the two red signal lights growing smaller, +until shut out by a curve; but they continued to stand, listening to the +rumble as it faded into the distance—into the dawn of a new world, +where the souls of men were calling, and from which the souls of +slackers stood back in fear!</p> + +<p>When the last faint sound had become lost, and the purity of the night +was undisturbed, the two saddened men turned by mutual consent and +walked slowly homeward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p>Three days later Mr. Strong returned and took up his duties with stoic +bravery. Marian had sailed with a unit happening to be in need of +nurses, and by now, he told the Colonel, she must be far out upon the +ocean. Each time the telegraph operator entered the anxious father's +heart stood still—for there were nests of conscienceless submarines +waiting for just such prey! But the cable came at last announcing: +"Safe. Quickly front." It required no translation to know that she was +doubtless at that moment speeding on her mission of mercy to the +trenches. For an hour the two old men sat without speaking, moodily +staring out of the window.</p> + +<p>No word came from Washington, other than a polite note from the +Congressman which stated that books, such as he presumed the gentlemen +wanted, were much in demand but would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> be sent if procurable. From the +War Department—nothing!</p> + +<p>At the expiration of another week, however, the official envelope +arrived. In warm terms its writer appreciated the patriotism of +Hillsdale, but regretted that uniforms and rifles were not being issued +just at present to organizations such as the gallant company in +question. The Colonel had inserted that word "gallant" when reading this +at a meeting called for the purpose, assuaging his conscience with the +excuse of civic necessity. He pointed out, also, that the equipment was +tentatively promised—if one chose to interpret the letter in this way; +and, of course, everyone did so choose. Then came another wait through +which the Colonel and Mr. Strong grew more and more depressed. For hours +they would sit in semi-silence, intermittently exchanging thoughts of +Marian and Jeb.</p> + +<p>Since Jeb's name had been entered on the roster book he felt chained to +a slowly gnawing torture, for any train might bring over an army man to +administer the oaths of allegiance, and there would then be no escape. +But as weeks passed and nothing happened he began to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> breathe more +hopefully. The depression, born of fear, was wearing off, while the +self-satisfied conceit slunk back into its former place. It would have +been safe to say that Jeb was close to normal.</p> + +<p>This respite, however, took a precipitate tumble one morning when he +received word to come at once to the office. As he entered, Mr. Strong +and the Colonel looked up with serious faces.</p> + +<p>"There isn't any bad news from Marian?" he asked, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>They shook their heads. But he saw that something serious had happened, +and guessed in a flash that the dreaded time was at hand! With a rush +all the old fear surged back to torture him.</p> + +<p>"Jeb," the editor said, pointing to a chair, "we've decided your best +chance lies in the Reserve Officers' Corps. If you're ready now, we'll +help you make out the papers and see that you get properly fixed up."</p> + +<p>"Chance of a lifetime, Jeb," the Colonel enthusiastically cried. +"Training, commission, fighting with the first contingent that goes +over! I congratulate you, sir!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But—but what about the company?" he faltered, feeling the world wobble +and reel.</p> + +<p>"Company the devil, sir! Amos and I don't believe the Department intends +sending us the stuff! No, sir, they've doubtless settled on this other +scheme."</p> + +<p>Only for a moment did Job hesitate, and then he arose supreme. His face +was white, his eyes blazed as fire, his voice became pinched and high +with emotion. Never, he declared, would he turn back from the duty +toward which he had set his will! That duty was to his comrades in +Hillsdale, who had paid him the high compliment of dedicating their +lives to his leadership. Desert them now, when the first opportunity +came for personal advancement, and he would be a traitor to all mankind! +If, merely for the love of fighting, he could so far forget these +confiding fellows, how could he ever look them in the eyes again!</p> + +<p>The truth of the matter was that Jeb worked himself into a frenzy of +oratory which convinced in spite of logic. He was pleading desperately +for Jeb, for Jeb's hide, for Jeb's life. Having no suspicion of this the +two old gentlemen lis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>tened with rapture expressed in their moistening +eyes, and when he concluded, out of breath but defiant, they sprang up +and embraced him.</p> + +<p>"By gad, sir," the Colonel cried, "you made the shades of eloquence, +from Webster to Demosthenes, sit up and cock their ears! Amos, when this +war's over we'll run him for the senate, eh?"</p> + +<p>So the Officers' Reserve Corps was laid upon the shelf. Other men in +Hillsdale applied for it; some were ordered to report at the training +camp of their divisional area; but, for Jeb, the dark angel of torture +had again passed by.</p> + +<p>At breakfast one morning, opening the <i>Eagle</i>, his blood congealed into +fine particles of ice. His head whirled, his body became sick in every +part. Leaving abruptly he went into the garden and there read, painfully +read, the big headlines and their accompanying story.</p> + +<p>The draft! Drafting between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one—and +he was twenty-six! He could not have been more in the center, in the +very bull's-eye, of the age selection! With all his senses in a panic, +his mind darted this way and that, seeking, as a trapped rat,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> some +avenue of exit; but on every side, so far as years counted, he was +equally hemmed in. A moment of fury took the place of fear, wherein he +cursed and raved against a government, calling itself paternal, that +would play fast and loose with its people's lives; but at last he fell +into a dull brooding, tinged with physical and mental nausea.</p> + +<p>He was aroused by a voice, and looked up to behold the Colonel's head +and shoulders above the picket fence. The old gentleman's face was grave +and his well-known Stetson had been pulled lower to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd find you," he was saying. "Walk down to my office with +me."</p> + +<p>Since the sixth of April, now almost two months passed, the Colonel had +referred to the table in Mr. Strong's editorial sanctum as his office; +not alone because it pleased him so to do, but equally because his +friend would tolerate no other arrangement. Never having possessed an +office of any kind, he felt that it added dignity to his declining +years; and there, each morning, he would re-check the names on his +recruiting ledger, besides writing suggestions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>—some very good +suggestions—to the War Department. If the young Martian clerks, working +like bees in that august building at Sixteenth and Pennsylvania Avenue, +grew into the habit of unopening fat envelopes postmarked "Hillsdale" +until the very last moment, they learned to do so after a manner of +self-protection—but had the Colonel suspected this he would have gone +forthwith and flourished his cane, not only over their heads, but over +the heads of their heads, even unto the Mr. Secretary of War himself.</p> + +<p>"I'm unhappy about you, Jeb," he said, as they fell into stride.</p> + +<p>Jeb, having reached a state of mind wherein he expected at any moment to +be called a coward, felt his body stiffen as if to receive a blow. He +had become ashamed even to inquire for news of Marian, during these last +few days, as the contrast of their characters was a thing he preferred +keeping in the background. He now looked stolidly at the pavement, and +asked:</p> + +<p>"What about?"—but the words were huskily inarticulate and he repeated +them, this time in a louder voice: "What about?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, everything," the old gentleman answered. "Your splendid loyalty to +the company that won't be formed has robbed you of a place in other +branches of the service which by this time would have meant much to you, +and I'm afraid now it's too late to recover the lost ground." He failed +to notice that his young friend drew a breath of relief, or that he +stepped out with greater confidence. "You might be training this minute, +Jeb, were it not for my vain desire to put you quickly in a place of +command! I am greatly distressed—greatly to be blamed!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't say that, sir," Jeb turned to him quickly, yet with more +pleasure than solicitude in his voice. "There'll be a second camp, and I +won't lose anything in the long run. Even if I never get to go at all, +Colonel, I've the satisfaction of having tried—that is, I <i>will</i> have +tried; which, along with your kindness, is more than a compensation."</p> + +<p>He meant this. He saw an opportunity, moreover, to beat the draft by +giving out ahead of time his determination to attend the second training +camp. It had not before occurred to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> him, because he had been too +mentally paralyzed to think clearly. Now a suspicion which once had +flickered in his mind came back with renewed vigor: that a kind of Fate +was watching his career. It had steered him safely past the home +company, and later had steered through rapids that might easily have +dashed him against the first training camp. At present it was pointing +to a secret passage of escape from conscription. To-day, he figured +rapidly, was the thirty-first of May; the second camp would not open +until August the twenty-seventh. Oh, lots of things could happen in +three months! Jeb had not felt quite so hopeful since the declaration of +war, and launched a flow of pyrotechnical sentiments which warmed the +Colonel's blood.</p> + +<p>This wordy recklessness continued while they turned into the <i>Eagle</i> +building and ascended to the "office." Mr. Strong looked up smilingly as +they entered, and the Colonel, standing with legs apart, pushed back his +hat, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Amos, Jeb has in him, I declare, sir, the spirit of the old days! He'll +make a record, sir, of which we'll be proud; and also make those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +wretched Huns take water or I don't know a soldier! Rather than feel +depressed because our planning has thus far kept him away from the +Colors, he's confidently and happily looking forward to the second +training camp for officers, sir. Incidentally this will spare him the +odium—the odium, sir—of being drafted like a common slacker!"</p> + +<p>"I'd die if I were drafted," Jeb put in. "I don't see how drafted men +can face their own kind, much less the enemy!"</p> + +<p>"You're right," the Colonel thundered. "Such a system saps our manhood! +I thank God, Amos, that in the old days men responded to the call +without being driven like a herd of moral lepers!"</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, not so fast," Mr. Strong began to laugh at them. "In the +old days, Roger, we owed our successes at arms to luck, rather than to a +finely organized army. Washington couldn't have whipped the British +without France; we couldn't have held our own with them again in 1812 if +they hadn't been up to their ears in the Peninsular War, and unable to +send anything like an equal force over here to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> engage us. It's the +truth, Roger, and we lose nothing by admitting it! The Mexican War was a +vastly superior power against a little one, and the same condition +prevailed when we tackled Spain. Only once in our history did we find it +necessary to draft, and that was when we fought an antagonist—I will +not say an enemy—in every way our equal; that, Roger," he laid his hand +on the Colonel's arm and spoke tenderly, "was when we fought you."</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked out of the window. His eyes blinked several times +before he replied, in the same gentle voice:</p> + +<p>"By gad, Amos, you did have to draft then, didn't you!"</p> + +<p>"We did, and I'm frank to say we should have done so in every war before +and after. It's the only fair way, and the only efficient way! But aside +from what we should have done, today we're fighting neither Mexico nor +Spain. We're fighting a blood-glutted monster whose breath is poisonous +gas, whose touch is fever, whose thoughts are leprous. This is too +serious an emergency to trust in the hands of a fallacious volunteer +system! The Government, by which I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> mean ourselves, must look to its +knitting with an alertness never before found necessary, or this time we +perish. And I want to tell you, Roger, with all solemnity, that there +may be a score of legitimate reasons why a young man should not +volunteer, but none to caste dishonor on his endraftment. This nation +merely says to its young fighting men, 'Step up, my sons!'—then, all +who should fight, will; and those who should not, won't! There is no way +more fair; there is no way more honorable! So do not re-utter your +sentiments, either of you!"</p> + +<p>"I expect you're right," the Colonel murmured.</p> + +<p>"I know I am. And you'll realize it next Tuesday, Roger, when you see +what fine types of young fellows come before you to be registered. I put +you down as a registrar," he added, "because I am to be one, also."</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness I won't have to register," Jeb said contentedly. "I'm +going to the second camp."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to register, all the same, Jeb," the editor turned to him. +"All men in the age must do that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But how about the second camp?"</p> + +<p>"There's some talk of taking no men in the second camp who are in the +draft age. Youngsters like you are wanted for the rank and file."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong turned to his desk and began opening mail, else he might have +read Jeb's secret at a glance. The Colonel, blissfully ignorant, leaned +over the ledger and began for the hundredth time to check off the +extinct roster, saying with resignation:</p> + +<p>"That sounds reasonable, Amos; and, since there's no odium attached to a +drafted man, it may be all the greater achievement in the long run when +Jeb has worked himself up from the ranks. He'll be a better officer for +it."</p> + +<p>"When is this registration?" Jeb tried to make his voice sound natural.</p> + +<p>"Next Tuesday," Mr. Strong answered over his shoulder. The Colonel was +still preoccupied and did not look up. The next moment Jeb slipped out +and turned, dizzily, into Main street.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p>For the remainder of that week Jeb was an ill man. He could neither eat +nor sleep, but paced restlessly about the garden, sometimes going far +into the country and coming home exhausted. He did not realize that his +panic-stricken mind was showing signs of its agony, or that his aunts +were becoming greatly alarmed. But Sunday morning Miss Sallie and Miss +Veemie held a consultation and decided to call Doctor Purdy—a gruff, +good-natured friend of the family, who not infrequently dropped in for a +cup of tea. This time he found his patient in the garden and was soon +walking arm in arm with him. Later he rejoined the ladies on the front +porch.</p> + +<p>"Is it serious?" they asked, in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Um," he answered, pursing his lips and looking out across the lawn, +"no."</p> + +<p>They did not suspect that Doctor Purdy was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> utterly in the dark about +Jeb's ailment; nor that in a general way he had diagnosed it to be love +or debt, judging solely from a very evident depression. Neither did the +man of medicine guess how dangerously ill in mind his patient had +become; for Jeb, in the darkest hours of these days, during which he was +imminently faced with conscription—meaning to him a hell of hells in a +foreign battlefield—had so worked himself into an hysteria that +personal injury seemed the easiest and only solution to his suffering. +Were he to shoot off his finger, for instance, he would not be drafted! +He had read of this being done in other countries! Or, he might point +the rifle at his foot—but that, perhaps, would be a needless sacrifice.</p> + +<p>He had thought it carefully out, and had been actually on the point of +deciding when the old physician appeared. Then Doctor Purdy, reading in +his eyes the very image of despair, left good suggestions as the best +medicine he then knew to bolster him up. The consequence was that Jeb, +instead of resorting to wounds, settled on a better plan: he would +become more ill, grow worse and worse, so that by Tuesday the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> doctor +might carry a certificate to the registration place exempting him from +service. He brightened wonderfully after this; he really became a +hopeful looking invalid for one who intended to flirt shamelessly with +death. He almost laughed. His appetite returned, and it was a hard knock +for him to take to his bed instead of sitting down at the sumptuous +feast which he knew Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie had provided. But bed it +must be, and no dinner.</p> + +<p>News of his illness had got abroad somewhat, and during the afternoon +the Colonel and Mr. Strong called. When Miss Veemie, out of breath, came +up to tell him this he expressed a feeble wish to see them, arranging +himself deeper in the pillows and trying to remain calm.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said the Colonel jovially, "this is no place for a soldier! +The time will come, doubtless, when we'll be dropping by to see you +tucked in white sheets, but then you'll have a leg off, or half your +head! You'll be a battle-scarred veteran, then!"</p> + +<p>The light was not strong enough for any of them to have seen the effect +of this encouraging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> speech, but Jeb acquiesced feebly, adding a weak +desire that the prophecy might come true. This sentiment, just at this +time, did not escape the Colonel, who looked for the merest instant +startled—then put an unworthy thought aside as the invalid concluded:</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry I won't be out Tuesday to register."</p> + +<p>"Don't let that worry you, my boy," Mr. Strong leaned gently over and +spoke to him. "The War Department has provided for those who happen to +be ill, so you won't miss it; we promise to see to that, eh, Roger?"</p> + +<p>"He's in my district," the generous Colonel answered, "so I'll come by +here first thing Tuesday morning and fill out his card. Why, it'll be a +pleasure, Jeb!"</p> + +<p>Where was the good fairy, the kind Fate, now that had stood between him +and this war horror! He felt limp and willing to lie still awhile; but +as soon as the guests had left he sprang up and feverishly paced the +floor.</p> + +<p>Had he possessed one chum, to whom he could pour out this agony and who +in turn could have jolted him back into a normal perspective, Jeb<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> might +have faced the issue with coolness and even gladness, as millions of +other fellows were doing. But he had started wrong, and the farther he +stumbled down the wrong road the harder it was to struggle back. Each +hour he had let himself be confronted with agonizing thoughts of pain +and death—strangling in the cruel embrace of the one, or being drawn +whimpering into the mysterious uncertainty of the other; vivid +prospects, these, that drew him into a state of dumb hysteria. He +loathed himself, he loathed everything about him, until the untoward +tomorrows were nearly effaced by the self-torment of todays. To be +caught between the two was an endless terror—since tomorrows are always +tomorrows, and todays face us with every dawn. Trembling at the +uncertainties ahead, he longed for that peace which is only found in the +finalities of yesterdays. With anguished eyes he peered into the future, +and wrung his hands impotently.</p> + +<p>When he heard Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie coming up to say goodnight, he +slipped between the sheets and remained impassive while they fussed +about, touching the pillow here or pat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>ting the coverlet there. At last, +alone for the night, he crossed silently to the door and locked it; then +drew a chair to the window and gazed moodily out into the trees, one of +whose branches brushed the sill on which he leaned.</p> + +<p>There was an agitation in the leaves that seemed to whisper eerie things +to him; they were stirred by some invisible emotion—by fear, he +thought. To his mind all nature was trembling before the great human +sacrifice about to be demanded of this fair land; and he imagined other +trees, forests upon forests of them, vines, flowers, grasses—aye, +mountains and gorges, even—being obsessed by this same dumb shivering. +"The world is shivering," he whispered. He was shivering! How long, he +wondered, must it be before this quietly shivering world would burst +into a raging frenzy, as these trees within touch of him had been +whipped by storms of unbridled passion! He recalled a storm in the +previous summer, when green leaves torn from their stems were driven +before the hurricane and plastered on these very window panes above his +head. He likened it to a man-made fury, wherein pieces of human body<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +would be blown about with the same unrelenting indifference.</p> + +<p>By eight o'clock next morning Jeb was on his way downtown. Although his +face was white and somewhat drawn, the illness had disappeared; he had +eaten a man's size breakfast and declared himself to be fit. The shivers +that earlier made a playground of his frame were quiet; their elements +were present, but scattered by a resolution that was now driving him +onward—and well nigh driving him mad!</p> + +<p>Turning into the <i>Eagle</i> building he walked stolidly to the editor's +room and entered. As he had hoped, Mr. Strong was not there, and only +the Colonel arose, crying with outstretched hands:</p> + +<p>"A soldier's recovery, on my word, sir! Jeb, you rebound like a rubber +ball—I'm proud of you!"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be proud of me," he replied slowly, not looking into the +honest face that smiled at him. "I am not fit to be proud of."</p> + +<p>The words might have been taken for extreme modesty, but the tone fell +unpleasantly on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> Colonel's ears. He recognized, or thought he +recognized, something that had its root in this young man before him; +not merely an expression of the moment. For an instant his keen eyes +bored into the averted face, causing Jeb to look up rather defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Colonel," he said jerkily, "tomorrow is draft day. I'm afraid of it; +I'm a—a——" then it burst in a tone of desperation, "—a coward, sir!"</p> + +<p>The office was perfectly still for nearly a minute, during which the +Colonel's scrutinizing gaze never faltered. He would have been vacuous +indeed to ask if this thing were a joke, for Jeb's whole attitude +condemned him. But the old gentleman was not the type who easily +surrendered the honor of his friends, and when he spoke his words came +haltingly, as though he were weighing this damning statement against all +that had formerly been good; he was unwilling to pronounce a verdict on +the bare face value of such an accusation without throwing into the +balance, not only Jeb's character since boyhood, but the affectionate +memory of his father.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It takes a brave man to say that, Jeb, and you've certainly shown no +cowardice thus far. I prefer to think that you are mistaking a new +situation, a strange sensation, for this more unworthy thing—I won't +name it, sir!"</p> + +<p>Whatever the hope to which Colonel Hampton clung, he could no longer +doubt Jeb's earnestness nor his sanity. He saw that this son of his dead +friend was speaking a horrible truth which he, himself, could not +possibly understand. And then he seemed suddenly to have aged, to have +grown old in a moment.</p> + +<p>Sometimes an autumn will progress far while still holding the bounteous +greens of summer; the skies will have tempered their chill to trees and +grass, and even scattered wild flowers will retain their bloom. But, one +night, something taps upon the window pane. Faster, faster, like +metallic clicks of a speeding-up machine, the sleet rattles for a little +while, and lo! where are the leaves, the flowers, of yesterday! Thus did +the Colonel age at this quick approach of blighting cold which the +optimism of his nature was impotent to withstand. Yet he was still +unwilling to give up the fight. Jeb was afraid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> not a coward! There lay +a vast difference between these, and he said hopefully:</p> + +<p>"Get this in your mind, Jeb: bravery is the absence of fear, but courage +is the ability to overcome fear! It's no disgrace to be afraid; it's +only a disgrace to be a slave to fear. The man who possesses one pound +of fear and two pounds of courage, is a lion; reverse this order and you +have—that other thing, which I won't believe you are! Why, boy, I +remember my first experience well! My regiment was behind a hill, +waiting the word that would send us charging into action—and a red-hot +fight they said it would be, too! I was leaning on my rifle in the most +nonchalant attitude of indifference, but the truth was that if it hadn't +been for that prop my knees would have crumpled up. You're the first man +I ever told this to, and I wouldn't now unless I thought it would help +you. That was the most unhappy moment in my life; but, like all +troubles, it appeared to be much greater at a distance. Once in action I +had a rattling good time and hated like the devil to quit; and you'll be +the same way—I know you will. I'll go a step further with your case—as +also mine—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> assert that the man who doesn't know fear is an utter +stranger to the extreme delights of courage—for courage is a delight to +the very soul after it takes possession. The trouble is, you've been +thinking too much; you've been picturing foreign things in a foreign +land, and your vision is distorted. Go to it, lad, and you'll be the +same game rooster your daddy was before you!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel finished with a burst of enthusiasm that was genuine until +he saw the face of his staring listener. Then his jaws set and the +appearance of age again crept slowly back. He turned away and began +drumming on the table with his pencil.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it can't be helped," he said, tremulously, after a death-like +silence wherein the breathing of each was distinctly audible. "I suppose +it's in one's make-up," he continued, as though pleading with an +invisible accuser who was sitting there in judgment upon the son of his +old friend. "It's probably like an ear for music, an eye for color, an +aptitude for this or that pursuit in life—just stuck in, you know, +without apparent cause; and so with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> stuff that makes soldiers." +Then, turning in a sudden fury, he thundered: "But the hell of it is, +that every born male baby should be then and there a born soldier, else +nature has blundered in making it a male!—for a boy-child that comes +into the world without that divine element which later would make it +joyfully die for its country, ought to be a girl-child! I'm not sure +that it ought to be anything at all, judging from the nobility our +girls, our women, have always shown when their country bleeds! There's +Marian Strong, possessed with the courage of a lion—yes, sir, a lion! I +don't understand you; I don't understand anything—I'm damned if I +do!—not anything at all!"</p> + +<p>Again, except for the drumming pencil, the same sickening stillness +filled the room. When Mr. Strong was heard outside talking to a member +of his staff, the old soldier and the young slacker looked at each other +quickly, almost guiltily, as if they had nearly been surprised in a +crime. To their relief he turned and descended the stairs, but the +Colonel tilted his chair until he could see the courthouse clock, saying +drily:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He'll be back in a few minutes. The draft registration is tomorrow. +What are we going to do?"</p> + +<p>Jeb felt as though his body were a sponge that had absorbed all the +sickening heaviness extant throughout the world. There was a strong +tugging within that demanded of him to cry aloud his intention to +enlist, but another personality whimpered desperately, "I can't—I +can't!" His own face now was drawn as the Colonel's had been; his eyes +seemed filmy, and when he spoke his voice was lifeless.</p> + +<p>"I know it is," he said.</p> + +<p>It did not escape the Colonel that Jeb had replied directly to the thing +which most concerned him. The draft was his evil fetish; second in +importance came the question of what he should do, or whether Mr. Strong +might return and be a witness to his disgrace—yet the Colonel even now +was unwilling to call it this. Applied to any one else—yes! Treating +with any one else he would doubtless have ordered him from the office. +But this was the son of his old friend; the boy he had watched with +pride, lo! these twenty-six years. One cannot in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> batting of an eye +shake off an affection so deeply grounded!</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I know it, too," he suddenly exclaimed. "I ask you what we +are going to do!"</p> + +<p>"I—I wish I knew," Jeb answered desperately. "I—I want to do +something——"</p> + +<p>"You've <i>got</i> to do something," the interruption came with +uncompromising sternness.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Mr. Strong entered.</p> + +<p>"Hullo," he cried, with a brevity characteristic of him when hurried. +"Would have been here sooner, but that plagued unit had to be got +fixed."</p> + +<p>"What unit are you talking about, Amos?" the Colonel asked, glad and +sorry for the interruption.</p> + +<p>The editor seated himself and began to run a thin steel paper knife +through one after another of several unopened letters.</p> + +<p>"Barrow's," he answered, without turning around. "Barrow's hospital +unit—leaves some time tonight; and Wade, the man listed to go from +here, dropped a packing box on his foot. Barrow 'phoned me last night, +and I've been looking for a suitable man all morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nearly everyone in Hillsdale had heard that the great Barrow was heading +a hospital unit, and the editor's nearest friends knew that he had been +honored with permission to select one man from his own town. Now this +man had come to grief! The Colonel looked across at Jeb. He saw at once +a miraculous opportunity, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Helping about a hospital is a fine work, Jeb. Of course, it isn't like +being with the Colors, but it means service—a very noble service!"</p> + +<p>Jeb's mind had sprung farther ahead than the nobility of service. It saw +a place of comparative safety, far from the range of shells; there would +be no charging over parapets, no bullets would come ploughing through +his stomach, no shrapnel would tear shreds from his face! He thought +much of that face. He could actually be in France and come home a hero! +Besides all these considerations, he would escape the draft!</p> + +<p>The Colonel, watching closely, read each argument, each emotion. For a +moment his own fearless, honest eyes drew to shiny points and his lips, +had he not controlled them, would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> curled in disgust. But he could +not quite forget that Jeb was the son of his old friend; aye, and his +own friend. As there had been two personalities in Jeb, tugging for and +against enlistment, so were there two beings in the Colonel's soul +condemning and pleading for this weakling Hercules. He now turned +anxiously to the editor, asking:</p> + +<p>"You haven't found anyone, have you, Amos?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? No, Roger, I haven't. Our boys, who are not already pledged to the +Colors, prefer taking their turn with the draft."</p> + +<p>"Then wire Barrow quickly that Jeb takes Wade's place!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong swung about in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Jeb? Does Jeb want <i>that</i> branch of service?"</p> + +<p>"He's crazy for it, Amos! He wants anything that'll get him to France as +speedily as possible."</p> + +<p>The Colonel tried manfully, for the love of old associations, to look +without flinching into the eyes of Amos Strong. He felt that Jeb should +have told this lie—not, perhaps, an out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> and out lie, for Jeb did truly +want any service wherein he would escape the draft and gun-fire; but it +was a lie, nevertheless, and the Colonel's cheeks burned hotly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm——!" Mr. Strong did not say it—not that he wouldn't have! +He turned, wrote a hurried direction and rang for his stenographer; +then, as she retired, he wheeled back again with a cordial smile.</p> + +<p>"You've greatly surprised me, Jeb—that is, I'm delighted with your +resolution. I've a blank somewhere," he now began fumbling over the +littered desk, "and we'll make it out at once; just a form, you +know—all units have 'em in one style or another! Now: Name? —— +Residence? —— Age? ——"</p> + +<p>It was soon done and passed over for Jeb's signature which was attached +with a firm, confident hand. Mr. Strong wrote awhile further, and looked +up, saying:</p> + +<p>"It may be slightly irregular, but the time is so short we can't help +ourselves; so I've vouched for your physical condition. I've also waived +indemnity in case you're killed, since, of course,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> thus far in life +you've contributed nothing to the support of your aunts."</p> + +<p>This mention of being killed, put down in regular form, drove the color +from Jeb's cheeks; but it seemed absurd to him and the next moment he +laughed, saying:</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there's one chance in a thousand of that, way back in a +hospital!"</p> + +<p>The desk telephone rang and Mr. Strong took up the receiver, thus +checking his reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Barrow, I called you. I've a man for Wade's place. Still room? +Good! Jeb Tumpson—known him all his life! J-E-B, yes, Jeb. Not time to +mail it?—wait!" He reached for the application and began to read it +slowly, sometimes repeating so the listener could take it correctly +down. "When shall he report, Barrow? Good! He'll be uniformed there? +Splendid! Don't forget, if you should see my daughter! Well, goodbye and +good luck, Barrow; yours is a noble work, and God husband you!"</p> + +<p>"Amen," the Colonel whispered.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong, hanging up the receiver, swung about enthusiastically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Jeb," he cried, "hustle! Barrow says bring only a suitcase and toilet +articles; report to his hospital as soon as your train lands you, and be +fitted out. I'll mail this original application to the proper place with +a notation that you've left. You'll take the fast express this +afternoon, reach him about nine-thirty, and sail some time after +midnight. That's moving some!" he slapped his thigh. "Now hurry home and +tell the little aunts. Roger and I will have money at the train for you. +Oh, by the way," he arose and followed Jeb who was about to pass out, "I +wouldn't let on about dangers, understand? Just pretend there aren't +any; for if those dear ladies knew you were going into a branch of +service where the death toll is higher than any place else in the army, +they'd be ill with worrying."</p> + +<p>Jeb leaned against the door-jamb and opened his lips wide for breath. +His throat felt parched, his heart was beating like the roll-call on a +drum. But Mr. Strong, moved greatly by the moment, laid a hand on his +shoulder, adding:</p> + +<p>"I haven't said as much as I want; I'm not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> going to, either. You know I +want to be proud of you, and I'll be watching for news with an interest +akin to that which I feel for Marian. You're going away to play a mighty +big game, boy, wherein Humanity is trumps and Patriotism, Righteousness +and Service are the other three aces. Yet even if you hold all these, +you may still lose unless you possess one more magic card: Self-respect. +We all owe to our soul a certain measure of self-respect, Jeb. It is a +gentleman's personal debt of honor to himself, demanding payment before +every other obligation, and is satisfied only when we face each of +life's crises with steel-tipped, crystal courage. Think of this often; +carry it with you everywhere; it is the last and best thing I can give +you. Now hustle!" he gave him an affectionate push. "We'll be at the +depot waiting."</p> + +<p>Job went down the stairs in a storm of mental hysteria. His physical +senses seemed to be numb, but the brain more than made up for this. It +was writhing in an agony of fear, a chaos of racing tortures; yet in +their midst one thing stood aloof with the firmness of rock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> This was +the belief—unassailable, absolute—that he could not by any human means +turn from the direction his life was pointing. He felt this profoundly. +His mind kicked and held back against it, but a great something was +calmly impelling him on. He hated this inexorable force; he cursed it; +for he did not realize that it was his own soul!</p> + +<p>The editor had followed him out, having duties elsewhere in the +building, so the Colonel sat alone listening to their retreating steps. +His fine head was erect, his hands were clasped and his arms thrust out +before him on the table. Jeb's confession was burning into his brain as +he reviewed every chapter of the boy's behavior since early April. Each +of Jeb's procrastinations and evasions now stood out clearly, connoting +but one thing, predicated on but one thing! Slowly the old gentleman's +mustache began to move in a curious way; by degrees his face became +convulsed; then, letting his head fall between the outstretched arms, he +yielded to a great sob:</p> + +<p>"My God—a coward!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p>Some time before daylight Jeb fell asleep. In the work and hustle of +getting aboard and stowing supplies for his unit, of dodging a company +of Canadians looking to their own embarkation, and of steering his +course through half an army of sweating stevedores who were loading vast +quantities of freight for the Allied army, he had not thought of +himself. But he had felt the elation which comes to all who are +cohesively striving for a single purpose that lies beyond dangerous, and +as yet insurmountable, ground. He had responded to the <i>camaraderie</i> of +these Canadian chaps, and it had been good. Now he slept.</p> + +<p>The steamer that took his unit to France, and these few furloughed boys +from Canada back to their regiment, was not large as steamers go, but it +looked monstrous to Jeb. Had he been familiar with trans-Atlantic travel +he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> have missed the library, main saloon, smoking and +writing-rooms, as these spaces which formerly belonged to the pleasure +traveler were now converted into bunks. Bunks were everywhere—empty +bunks for the most part on this trip, but ready for the great movement +later on. Perhaps the next time over she might bring the American boys!</p> + +<p>When these lads from Canada, the doctors and the nurses (and the +stretcher bearers, of which Jeb was one, although he had not yet +discovered it) realized their transport was an old reconverted German +tub, they would have cheered an irony so delightful had not orders been +issued for complete silence. No one must know that this ship, secretly +restored from the ravages of her former crew, entertained the slightest +idea of sailing; not one of the swarm of spies in German pay, infesting +New York and its environs, must suspect this midnight-to-dawn +embarkation! So, while Jeb slept, tugs quietly warped her out, towed her +in ghostlike fashion toward the Bay and turned her free. By daylight she +was over the horizon.</p> + +<p>And no one suspected that before daylight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> one of the sweating +stevedores, washed and smartly dressed, left his back-hall room in a +Hoboken boarding house, crossed to New York and entered a telephone +booth in a large hotel; thereupon calling an uptown number and telling a +keen-eyed man who listened gratefully that his wife was out of danger +and the doctor had left at two o'clock. Later that morning one of the +commercial messages which loaded the telegraph wires sped to a merchant +in Buenos Ayres asking quotations on 8,000 feet of 2-A grade mahogany +veneer; and, half an hour later, the Swedish Legation there was telling +Berlin that, upon this date, at 2 <span class="smcap">A. M.</span>, a steamer of 8,000 tons burden +had cleared New York, destination France.</p> + +<p>When the bugles sounded reveille Jeb fell out with the others. This +taste of the military was decidedly acceptable to him. He regretted that +his unit did not fall in for mess, as the Canadian veterans, for +instance. He regretted keenly his ignorance of army matters, the manual, +even, and the habit that came with constant discipline of keeping +oneself smart, straight, clear-eyed and ever courteous—as a good +sol<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>dier is. There were several pretty nurses aboard—several who were +not!—and for once his classic features found worthy rivals in the less +handsome, though more perfectly conditioned, regulars.</p> + +<p>Jeb had not realized as yet that he was stepping into an age where +Service counts above all other human assets; where the millionaire who +sits smugly in his club is contemptible beside the twenty-five dollar a +week man who puts his shoulder to the yoke. He had not seen this as yet, +nor could he have believed that henceforth, as never before, the real +men and real women of the world would be graded by the stamp of +<i>sterling service</i>, as distinguished from, and higher than, sterling +dollars. This great lesson he had yet to learn, as millions are learning +and will continue to learn.</p> + +<p>There sometimes comes in the life of men an affinity for other men; when +two from afar will be drawn together as old acquaintances. This is more +usual when the sexes are crossed—at least, poets would have it so—but +in all reaches of human habitation there are moments when a man will see +another in a crowd and say to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> himself, "I'd like to meet that chap!" +Thus it was with Jeb and Sergeant Tim Doreen, one-time citizen of Galway +(the old sod), later American citizen, still later discharged with honor +from a Canadian regiment because of a grievous wound. But wounds meant +less to Tim than fighting and now, within six weeks, he was on his way +back. "Not as I wouldn't love to go wid me Stars an' Stripes, lad," he +carefully explained, "—for 'twould do me 'art good to slug the heathen +Boche from under its majistic folds—but ye'll be some time gittin' +ready over here, whilst the b'ys av me old rigiment is standin' at +attintion waitin' fer me this minute!"</p> + +<p>He and Jeb possessed not one thing in common, yet each was endowed with +something the other would have given his all to own. Jeb's face, for +instance, was like a cameo, high-bred, delicate and intellectual; Tim's +was scarred by shrapnel—although it had never been much of a face to +start with! He had always wanted to be handsome, for he loved beauty +extravagantly, be it in man or woman. Jeb, moreover, was tall, +splendidly built, graceful; his hands were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> smooth, his fingers well +groomed, he carried himself with the air of a gentleman. Tim was short, +perhaps just within the army requirement; he was built like a pine knot, +was smartly soldierly but lacked every other grace; his hands were what +hands should be that had not shirked in the trenches. He could not have +passed for a gentleman—or for what is the usually accepted term for +that individual—with all the arts of Poole and the rest of Piccadilly +thrown in; and Tim's highest ambition would have been to walk some +evening into the Ritz-Carlton, Sheppards, Continental, or Plaza, "wid +clothes enough an' manners enough to make them as eats there break their +sweet necks wid lookin', an' strain their soft eyes wid admirin' av me!"</p> + +<p>Jeb could have done it, for he drew just such looks in places given over +to social frivolities; so Tim liked Jeb, because Tim was generous and +knew only a manly man's psychology. Little did he dream which of the two +would attract the smiles of admiration, the tears of adulation, in the +great field of human service! Just one thing he did possess, however, +which Jeb would have given his world for, and that was courage. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> ever +man bore the mark of courage, 'twas Tim Doreen! Perhaps the widest +breach between them might have been thus summed up: Jeb was well aware +that Jeb was handsome; Tim had never given a thought to the fact that +Tim was in the highest sense courageous.</p> + +<p>The duties of a sergeant are not all hammocks and cigarettes. He +occupies an anomalous position of go-between for his captain and the +men; he must swear here, praise there, appear to be hurt at other times. +He must never miss anything, from a grumble beneath the breath to a +blistered heel or a bad tooth. He must lay alongside the men, in a +figurative sense, and get to know their souls; and get them to love him +or to hate him—but never to think of him with indifference. If his +captain is wise, he will listen to him patiently and follow his advice; +for a good sergeant maketh a happy company, just as truly as a good +housewife maketh a contented home.</p> + +<p>There were few duties aboard ship. The Canadians were already veterans, +and their new captain who was taking them back allowed more loafing than +usual. He believed in a generous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> breathing space before the sterner +days to come—providing they kept themselves fit! Neither did Barrow +care much how his unit employed its time, if all hands attended his +lectures and first aid demonstrations; and so it came about that Tim and +Jeb sat many hours together. It also followed that Tim saw in his new +friend elements which puzzled him, for now, the sixth day out, he +turned, saying quietly:</p> + +<p>"Lad, ye've been talkin' a lot about this Medical Corps job av yours, +an' the risk ye're takin'; an' whin ye're not talkin', ye're wonderin' +how soon we'll be blowed up be a submarine! W'ot ails ye now? W'ot's +bitin' ye?"</p> + +<p>The irresistible caress of the Celtic tongue was in Tim's question, and +Jeb, hesitating but a moment, impulsively leaned toward him.</p> + +<p>"Tim," he said, "I don't want you to think less of me, but the idea of +being sunk out here in mid ocean, or being shot up in a battle, scares +me stiff. I guess I'm a—a——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say it," the other checked him. "Don't be callin' yeself w'ot +ye'd be knockin' the head off anither mon for sayin! I've suspected ye +had a strong leanin' thot way, Jeb, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> hadn't thought no less av ye, +as I've seen manny a lad change from bad to good in the jumpin' av a +cartridge clip."</p> + +<p>"But the worst of it is, Tim, that I came away to escape the draft; and +now I see the draft was a cinch to what I've got into."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> not!" Tim vigorously replied. "I'd sooner have yer job twinty +times! To begin wid, ye only had wan chanct in eight to be taken in the +draft, but wid the doctors ye're <i>shure</i> to see scrappin'! Thot's the +way to look at it, lad!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!—but I can't," Jeb muttered, despairingly. "Since Barrow +told me I had to lug a stretcher I haven't eaten a meal a day, Tim. It +isn't sea-sickness, either, for the ocean's like a mill pond; it's just +knowing the Medical mortality is heavier than any branch of the +service—heavier'n air fighting, even!"</p> + +<p>"Thot's right," Tim said thoughtfully. "Medical comes +first—fifty-fifty, mind ye; thin the infantry, an' thin the air—or +maybe 'tis the artillery; I forget now. But, anyway, thot's w'ot makes +it worth a domn, can't ye see, lad? I own thot it don't strike me +funny-bone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> though. Whin I stand up for to be shot at, I want to do +some shootin' meself; I don't want to have me hands glued to no +stretcher, an' me heart bleedin' for the poor divil on it, an' let a lot +of 'arf-fed outcasts plug me lights out! No, sor! Whin anny lunatic av a +Hun pulls his trigger at Tim Doreen it arouses me timper, an' I'd be apt +to drop me load an' go back an' take a swat at 'im; thin, like as not, +the doctors 'd have me court-martialled!"</p> + +<p>"If you hadn't got blown up first," Jeb bitterly replied.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't ye go thinkin' 'bout bein' blowed up! 'Tis the worst kind av +weed a soldier can smoke!—an' I'm sayin' 'tis been the trouble wid ye, +Jeb; ye think too much! Transfer thim thoughts to how quick ye're goin' +to blow up the inimies av yer country; thin yell wanst or twict like the +ould divil hisself, an' ye'll be itchin' for a scrap so's ye can't +sleep! Quit thinkin' thot rot 'bout bein' kilt—which ye can't control +in anny case; an' begin thinkin' how ye'll kill a Hun—which ye <i>can</i> +control! Thot's the creed, as good soldiers sees it!"</p> + +<p>"But hell, Tim," he said, with something like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> a whine, "I can't +possibly shut out the dangers! They loom up like mountains."</p> + +<p>"Hell yer <i>own</i> self," the sergeant turned on him. "Dangers as looks +mountain high ain't no more'n a hill o' beans whin ye git ye're belly on +'em! W'y, look!—me ould fayther, wanst, waked me in the night sayin' as +a gang o' burglars was downstairs lootin' the family silver. Well, lad, +bein' but half awake I believed 'im, an' the goose flesh growed out on +me ar-rms so that—'tis the truth I'm tellin' ye—I plucked enough for a +parlor duster! But whin I got downstairs investigatin', the gang was no +more'n a loose shutter flappin' in the wind. The burglars was just a +noise—d'ye git me? No danger, but a noise—an' w'ot's a noise? Ye see, +Jeb, 'twas the wrong kind of thinkin'; an' the wrong kind of thinkin' +breeds fear, an' fear shrinks up a man whilst it makes the inimy grow +six inches. Put them six inches on yeself, say I, an' let the Boche +shrink—which he'll do, too, whin he sees ye've the bigger courage!"</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Jeb that this man was doing his very utmost to +inspire one spark of the lacking courage; he did not realize that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> Tim +was thoughtfully picking his words, as carefully as though he were +telling stories to a little child. Tim would not have been the crack +sergeant that he was had Jeb suspected this!</p> + +<p>"I can see them shrinking now," Jeb said, with something like a sneer at +Tim's assurance. "Why, everybody says they're the finest fighters on +earth!"</p> + +<p>"Thin iverybody lies, an' 'tis Tim Doreen as says it! There ye go again +wid a lot of domn fool thinkin' of w'ot ye got no cause to think. Wasn't +I just after tellin' ye there ain't no worse dry-rot for a soldier? The +Boche can put up as good a scrap as most, lad, whin they're bunched in a +crowd, but take 'em mon for mon an' they ain't no fighters a-tall, +a-tall. I ain't denyin' their officers is hep to the game—but thot's +just w'ot proves me p'int: for do ye s'pose their fat-headed gineral +staff'd be silly enough to march ar-rmy after ar-rmy jam up aginst our +strong positions, bunched like a herd o' sheep, if they didn't know the +men was too spineless to go into the fray like us, or the British, or +the Frinch—which is to say, in open order an' like hell?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't see how that'll get us anywhere," Jeb remarked.</p> + +<p>"'Twill get us <i>iverywhere</i>," Tim replied emphatically. "Didn't it get +us as far as we've got, whin we were at our wur-rst, an' thim at their +best? An' they was shure a rattlin' ar-rmy thot first year, make no +mistake on thot, lad! There was fine steel in 'em, mind ye: the 2nd +Bavarian Corps, now, which did me heart good to fight wid!—cruel, +unprincipled outcasts, to be shure, an' wid no mercy nor respect for +women—still, they was good fighters! But of late the b'ys tells me +their whole ar-rmy's been so watered down wid inferior stuff thot ye'd +not know it for the same; an' lest they're touchin' elbows an' absorbin' +courage w'ot comes from bein' clost, they ain't w'ot ye'd call reliable, +anny more. They can't stand the gaff as they wanst could! W'y, I was in +at the takin' av wan av their artillery positions on the Somme, lad, an' +may I be shot for a spy if we didn't find gunners chained to the wheels! +Ye don't need no searchlight to find the answer av thot, do ye now? +Their fightin' <i>machine</i> is good, mind ye; but it ain't no more nor +less'n<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> a red sausage machine whin iverythin's considered! But as for +the individual fightin' mon, w'y, he don't grow over there, a-tall, +a-tall!"</p> + +<p>"That's all very well, Tim, but they kill a lot of our fellows, just the +same!"</p> + +<p>"Shure, ivery now an' thin wan av the b'ys is sent west; but ye wouldn't +have a war all wan-sided, would ye? 'Twould be no war if ye did."</p> + +<p>"It's all so horrible," Jeb shuddered. The mention of being "sent west" +did not appeal to him since he had learned that it was the Tommy's way +of saying that a man had been killed.</p> + +<p>"Now, thot's where ye're wrong, lad," Tim straightened up to reach in +his breeches pockets for "the makings," but his hand came out empty and +he continued: "There's plenty av fun goin' on, an' laughs, too. I mind +me wan day whin the '75's was barkin' their throats out an' bein' +answered by God knows w'ot mighty ingines av war. We'd been brought up +clost an' was lookin' for a rush anny minute, so the men was jokin' for +the most part—thot or cussin'; 'tis all the same whin a rigiment feels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +good! I was sint along to help the bombers adjust detonators an' +straighten out pins, whin I come on a little cockney lad—timid like +yeself, Jeb—holdin' a puddin' an' not knowin' w'ot to do wid it; so I +says to 'im:</p> + +<p>"'Whin they git clost, now, pull out thot pin, count four, an' let her +fly!'</p> + +<p>"''Ow let 'er fly?' he asks.</p> + +<p>"'W'y, chuck 'er, ye blighter!' says I.</p> + +<p>"'But 'ow farst must Hi count four?' he asks agin, lookin' worrit; +'s'pose she goes hoff in me 'and?' he says.</p> + +<p>"'Well,' says I, 'if she goes hoff in ye 'and, sonny, ye may stop +countin'.'</p> + +<p>"An', Jeb," the sergeant added, "he laughed so 'twas all he could do to +keep from droppin' it; but he got the hang, so help me, an' did a man's +work thot day!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I couldn't do anything like that," Jeb cried despairingly. "I just +couldn't! The whole idea is horrible! And look at their submarines, all +around us everywhere!"</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>look</i> at 'em! Where the divil d'ye see 'em! Has anny wan av 'em +been comin' aboard for a nip av grog? There ye go thinkin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> wrong again, +Jeb; ye make me lose me timper! Haven't we been sailin' right along in a +sea as smooth as a lass's cheek, now comin' sivin days? W'y, me b'y, +even this ould tub's too fast for 'em!" Tim yawned and rolled over on +the deck, where they had been sitting with their backs against a +partition wall that, in former days of German ownership, had inclosed +the "gesellschafthalle." He searched again through his pockets, and +yawned once more, saying: "Shure, an' 'tis a long time gittin' back wid +the b'ys! But don't ye worry over w'ot's ahead—wait till it comes clost +enough for ye to grab it. Most ivery trouble, lad, dies 'asy whin ye git +yer teeth in good, an' shake it wanst or twict! Give me a bit av the +makin's, Jeb; I left me own below!"</p> + +<p>Jeb passed over his pouch and papers, then watched the sergeant roll a +cigarette, light it, and give the match an outward flip. Taking a few +deep inhalations he eyed Jeb back, and said thoughtfully:</p> + +<p>"Lad, I don't want ye to take this wrong, but I've a mind to be askin' +if ye have less courage than a gir-rl—a <i>lady</i> gir-rl, w'ot's been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +raised in silver an' gold an' soft pilleys! I want ye to keep thot in +mind whilst I tell ye a story; 'tis a story av me own wound, whin I got +me 'packet' for Blighty—an' av a nurse w'ot had jist come out from the +States, an' av a Frinch doctor w'ot's the king av all men, so help me! +'Twas 'im as brought me in off No Man's Land, where I was bleedin' me +life away! He come right out through a rain av fire thot would have +curled yer hair into little kinks av wire—for his stretcher bearers had +been sore shot up thot day, an' he was doin' ivery kind av wur-rk at +wanst. But, to git along: Whin I opened me eyes in the dressin' station +dug-out I scarce knowed if I was alive or dead—so weak did I feel. He +was standin' near, shakin' his head at a purty nurse, an' sayin': 'We +got to lose 'im, for he's lost too much blood! If we had anny to +transfuse,' he says, 'we'd pull 'im through, but thot's impossible,' he +says, 'for me b'ys have bled too much a-ready,' he says."</p> + +<p>Tim took another inhalation, and slowly continued:</p> + +<p>"I was too weak to say me prayers—not thot I wasn't in need av thim! +The nurse was look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>in' up at 'im wid big, wonderin' eyes, an' her breast +was heavin'. 'Will thot save 'im?' she asks. ''Tis the only thing,' he +answers, sorrowful. 'Thin save 'im,' she says, rollin' up her sleeve; +'here's the blood—save 'im, quick!'</p> + +<p>"Well, Jeb," Tim sighed, "I never see sich a look as come into thot +doctor's face. He stared at her, thin shouted so's ye could a-heerd 'im +a mile: 'I won't do it!' But still she stands her ground, an' says in a +flash: 'Ye will, if ye do yer dooty!' 'But I need ye', he cries again; +'I can't spare ye!' But she gives it to 'im strong, lad, an' says: 'A +fightin' man is worth more'n a nurse jist now! Hurry, Doctor +Bonsecours!'—for thot's his name, Jeb. 'But I need ye anither way, me +darlin',' he pleads wid her—an' I hope to be shot for a spy if iver I +see a holier look in a mon's face! She weakened a bit, an' her cheeks +got r-rosy red, but she says up to him, brave as iver: 'Save this mon +first, for all av France needs him!' Mind ye, lad, her sayin' thot all +av France needed a beggar like me!—but 'twas because he hisself was +Frinch, no doubt!"</p> + +<p>Tim wiped his sleeve across his eyes. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> made no pretense at hiding the +tears that sprang to them, for they were tokens of a deep and lasting +gratitude, and he was not ashamed.</p> + +<p>"An' so they did it, right there, lad, for a little runt av an Irishman; +an' the last thing I heerd her sayin', as she breathed in thot stuff—I +can't for the life av me remember its name—was: 'Plase be shure to take +enough, Doctor!'"</p> + +<p>Tim did not mention how he had joined what little voice he possessed +with that of Bonsecours, pleading with her to make no such sacrifice; +and then, finding this useless, threatening to kill the great surgeon if +he so much as scratched her arm.</p> + +<p>"Thot's the way people fight an' live out there, lad. Mind ye, the +blessed nurse hadn't known 'im more'n a week—maybe less; but it don't +take long for men or women to see the kind av stuff as is in each ither, +whin they're totterin' on the edge av No Man's Land! Annyway, I don't +know as she iver give 'im the answer he wanted; but w'ot's more to the +p'int av me story is this; thot she's nothin' but a blessed gir-rl, from +a little town back home, mind ye,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> but I'd have ye know thot the gr-reat +wur-rk Doctor Bonsecours has done is the talk av the Frinch ar-rmy—an' +she's his right-hand liftenant. She's as tender as tears, lad, but as +brave as a lion—an' in about the same job as yeself. She don't mind the +shells a-tall, a-tall! D'ye git that, Jeb?"</p> + +<p>"What town did she come from?" Jeb asked, his eyes growing thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Sure, an' I can't think av it!"</p> + +<p>"Was it——" He stopped abruptly, as a strange and curious sensation +seized him. It seemed as though the deck suddenly heaved upward—very +much like the feeling he would have if, sitting in a hammock, someone +sat down beside him. Immediately following this came a terrific +explosion, numbing in its intensity, and a wall of maddened water leaped +past the rail for a hundred feet into the air. In a twinkling Tim +dragged him through the door, as a shower of débris came down upon the +place where they had been sitting. The huge smoke funnel crashed to the +deck, scattering soot in all directions, then balanced an instant, and +plunged into the sea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the midst of this confusion, even before the funnel disappeared, Tim +was bellowing a command. His captain, at his side, waited as the men +poured up to them, then said drily:</p> + +<p>"Belts on the nurses; see that everyone's on deck, and belt yourselves!"</p> + +<p>Life belts were everywhere within easy reach and, as the men scattered, +Tim stopped an instant to hand one of them to his captain, who smilingly +took it but was later seen tying it on Dr. Barrow.</p> + +<p>The sergeant then dashed below, hurrying toward the staterooms to be +sure that everyone got up to deck. In his reckless determination to make +Jeb see this duty through, he had not let go of his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Take the doors on thot side," he now yelled at him in a voice of +thunder, "an' I'll take this! Smash 'em down where they're jammed, an' +look clost iverywhere inside! Sometimes women faints!"</p> + +<p>With this he released his hold; but Jeb, trying to go on, could not—he +could only cross his arms against the panels and press his head there to +shut out the terror. When Tim, kick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>ing in a door three staterooms away, +saw this he made one spring back and landed his next kick on a spot that +made Jeb flinch. This was followed by another, and still another, while +a string of lurid oaths poured from his lips which burned like a lash of +fire. Jeb sprang around, one fist drawn back to kill, his eyes +glittering as points of iron; but the sergeant's eyes were as points of +steel. The next moment Jeb had started on the work of rescue. Tim worked +across from him—and smiled.</p> + +<p>When Tim had become satisfied that no one remained below, they began +their retreat. By now the ship was listing to a degree which made it +necessary for them to walk with one foot on the panelled wall, and to +jump the cross halls. The stairs upward they negotiated with one foot on +the balusters. At the landing above a number of life belts, having slid +along the floor, lay piled in confusion against the wall; and before +stepping out on deck Tim tied one of these on Jeb, then safeguarded +himself, saying briefly:</p> + +<p>"Stay clost to me!"</p> + +<p>They found moving more difficult now, as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> ship had not stopped +listing. The deck leaned so precipitously that they had to grasp the +hand-rail, and work themselves by this means slowly around to the upper +side. Tim moved with the coolness of a veteran. Jeb scrambled with the +energy of despair.</p> + +<p>There were plenty of boats at this upper rail, but to let them over was +a difficult problem, since they must scrape down the ship's hull and +risk being capsized or smashed. Those at the lower rail were entirely +out of commission—splintered by the torpedo.</p> + +<p>Tim saluted the captain—the ship's captain, this time—and barked his +report. He was ordered to boat No. 1. When he reached this position Jeb +was close behind, terror still pictured on his face. In a fury the +sergeant turned to him, crying:</p> + +<p>"Look at the courage av thim nurses, ye —— —— ——! Can't ye try to +be a man? 'Ere, give a hand!" Another string of profanity rolling from +his tongue was as potent as the kick had been, for Jeb, still gasping, +fell to work.</p> + +<p>And then a cry went up! It came from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> breasts of those who waited +with limitless courage, and those who worked feverishly to save. It was +the heartrending, bloodcurdling cry of people doomed—for the ship had +begun to settle! Through his megaphone the captain yelled:</p> + +<p>"Jump! Jump! For the love of God, jump!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p>Jeb felt himself seized by the shoulder and torn from the davit to which +he held. Confusedly he heard Tim yelling: "Swim off as far as ye can, +lad!" and the next instant he was plunging downward, striking the ship's +side and sliding, bounding off, turning, striking again and sliding, +till he splashed into the water.</p> + +<p>When his head came up—providentially with its senses—the sergeant's +command lingered and he set his face away, swimming with all his might. +Once or twice he paused for breath, because it is hard work propelling a +life belt through the water, but these rests were momentary; till, +feeling himself safe from suction, he turned over on his back and +floated. In this position he could see the ship, and was just in time to +watch the last of its passengers leave the rail. These were Tim and a +pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> nurse who had been too frightened at the dizzy height to take +the leap until, tearing free her hold, he had lifted her in his arms and +skidded down the side.</p> + +<p>There was no confusion now. The sea had never seemed more peaceful. +Heads were bobbing merrily in the water, as though in for a pleasure +swim; beyond them lay the steamer, abjectly motionless—looking like a +monster which might have arisen from the deeps to bask upon the surface. +Jeb was wondering if he should not yet swim back and try to climb +aboard, when the great hulk swayed—gently at first, this way and that; +then, as if tender hands were lowering it into a grave, it slowly began +to sink.</p> + +<p>At this point the prevailing quiet was shattered by a hell of sounds. +Had a score of nearby thunder storms been raging and a hundred frame +houses ruthlessly been crushed between two great forces, their combined +noises might have been compared to those issuing from the stricken +vessel as she took her plunge—until the closing waters choked them into +a kind of gurgling silence, as though a bellowing giant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> were being +drowned instead of a thing of splintering wood and groaning steel.</p> + +<p>Dazed as Jeb was, he saw a mountain-high wave of seething foam rise from +the grave and roar toward him with the speed of unchecked horses. +Tossing like jack-straws on its crest were bunks, in part or whole, +chairs, planking, and débris of all descriptions. As it drew near he +took a deep breath and crossed his arms to protect his face. The next +second it was atop of him.</p> + +<p>An eternity seemed to pass before he came up—an eternity during which +he rolled over and over in a seething green wilderness. When, choked and +coughing, he gained the surface he felt that it had been changed into +another world. The former peace of waters scarcely disturbed by gentle +waves whereon heads had bobbed in apparent merriment, the listed ship +that had lain sleeping on the skyline, were gone; in their stead was a +great waste of hissing bubbles which burst about his face and blinded +him. The surface had become an ocean of hisses—as though the submarine, +agent of that nation which generates hate, had by some wicked magic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +changed the water with its hatred, too! And in the midst of this +confusion a chorus of three hundred passionate voices wailed their +anguish to a passive God; for, while these human beings had been whole +before, there were now many whom the sweeping wreckage had torn—some +with fractured bones, some disembowled, some mercifully dead! Never +could Jeb have dreamed a transition so horrible!</p> + +<p>Already scores of panic-stricken were climbing on an overturned boat, +drifting off to the right. Another upturned boat floated at a greater +distance, and Jeb saw the bobbing heads appear again, beginning to move +as a flock of swimming ducks toward it. But many heads did not move at +all, and he knew what their inertia meant. One of this kind floated +close to him, and made him sick. He pushed it away, but it kept drifting +back, seeming unwilling to leave him, till in desperation he untied the +life belt tapes and let it sink. An hour earlier, had Jeb been told he +could do this, he would have screamed denials.</p> + +<p>Presently a voice hailed him cheerily, and he beheld Tim, still holding +the little nurse, bal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>anced on a kind of box affair that floated almost +flush with the water.</p> + +<p>"Come over, Jeb," the sergeant called. "Shure, an' there's room for wan +more, an' 'tis cold ye'll be, I'm thinkin' afore we turn in tonight!"</p> + +<p>"He oughtn't to joke like that," Jeb thought, beginning now to shiver; +for he had become tired, and swam the intervening distance painfully.</p> + +<p>"Easy, lad," Tim leaned to give him a hand, "for if ye don't look smart +'tis off we go agin, an' 'twon't do the lass no good bein' colder'n she +is! Did I hurt ye now, me darlin'?" he asked a moment later of the +little nurse, who smiled back at him. Blood and water were trickling +down her ashen face from a scalp wound; yet she was many times more +fortunate than scores of other poor creatures near to them. There is an +unparalleled ruthlessness in a sweeping wave of heavy débris, beneath +which a human body can be ground to atoms.</p> + +<p>Jeb had no more than safely got astride the box—a tippy affair it +was—when they were startled by someone blaspheming in a way that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> made +their flesh creep. Even Tim blanched; for in the voice he recognized the +timbre of insanity. He had seen this happen in the trenches, when men +driven mad by concussion or gas or horrors ran amuck among their +fellows. The one who now swam toward them was evidently a stoker—a +powerful creature. His face was grimed with coal dirt, his eyes were +red, and his blasphemies were interspersed with hilarity at the prospect +of cutting their throats. When thirty yards off he stopped swimming, +reached beneath the life belt and got out a knife—then, holding it +conveniently between his teeth, came on.</p> + +<p>Jeb would have left the box and made a dash for the open sea had not Tim +checked him by a firm command; for, with the little nurse wounded in his +arms, the sergeant had but one recourse and he was man enough to take +it.</p> + +<p>"Be smart now, Jeb," he said. "Reach thot broken oar, lad, lest it +floats past ye! Now brace yeself, an' whin the poor divil gits clost, +belt 'im wan on the head wid all yer might! Kill 'im the first crack!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Kill him!" Jeb screamed in horror. "Kill him! Man, I can't!"</p> + +<p>"Ye fool, ye can an' ye will!" Tim's voice bit into him like a file. +"D'ye want 'im up here slittin' the throats av us—an' this gir-rul to +boot? He's looney, man! 'Tis 'im, or the three av us! Quick—str-rike!"</p> + +<p>Jeb felt his muscles turn to steel under this commanding voice. The +piece of oar rose high above his head and, as the crazed stoker was +about to lay hand upon the box, came down with all his strength.</p> + +<p>The little nurse clung tighter to the sergeant and buried her face in +his tunic.</p> + +<p>"Dear Christ!" she whispered, shivering.</p> + +<p>The man floated slowly by, rising and falling easily with the waves. His +face hung downward in the water, his arms were extended in the attitude +of a benediction. After him trailed a narrow streak of red, growing +wider though less bright as it mingled with the sea.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if the poor divil still has thot knife in his teeth," was +Tim's observation, spoken from the depth of sorrow.</p> + +<p>Jeb held the broken oar out before him as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> thing unclean, then opened +his fingers and let it fall.</p> + +<p>Scarcely more than twenty minutes could have passed since the vessel +sank, but she had been struck late in the afternoon and the sun now +slanted perilously near the horizon. Tim and the little nurse looked at +it thoughtfully, but neither spoke. Only a slight pressure of their arms +suggested that each believed it would never rise for them—or, rising, +would look upon a sea of floating dead. Jeb had not noticed the sun. His +face was lowered close to the planking of their frail refuge. The ocean +had again become a thing of peace and beauty—and silence. Those who +were on upturned boats had realized the impotency of screaming, and +merely clung with dogged tenacity; those who had been too much lacerated +to reach these places of imperfect shelter, had yielded to the cradling +waves and were now asleep. Thus the minutes dragged. Then the sergeant +gave a cry of consternation.</p> + +<p>"Well, w'ot d'ye know about thot! May I be shot for a spy, if 'tain't +the submarine!"</p> + +<p>Little more than a hundred yards away a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> monster was rising from the +sea. Jeb looked up just as the conning tower emerged with water rushing +off it like small Niagaras. Then, on a line of its submerged length, the +ocean seemed to heave, pressed upward by the long gray hull that now +broke through. It arose majestically, sleek as a bathing seal, +reflecting the westering sun like wet granite. Almost at once the +man-hatch in the conning tower opened, two sailors bobbed out and drew +respectfully aside as an officer climbed leisurely to deck. He stood +awhile twisting his mustache, gazing at the overturned boats with their +desperate crews; for the partially submerged box nearer by, and its +three human atoms, he had not yet noticed.</p> + +<p>At sight of him the sergeant's temper flared.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he cried. "Look, Jeb!—look, me darlin'!—see for wanst in yer +lives a murderin' sore dressed in the livery av a rotten master!" As the +officer turned in their direction Tim shook his fist at him, this time +becoming the incarnation of rage. "Turn yer ugly mug away!—turn it +away, I tell ye, from a sight too blessed for yer dirty eyes to see!—ye +cholera<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> germ!—ye fester!—ye—ye——Oh, me darlin'," he wailed to the +little nurse, "if ye'd but go deaf a minute whilst I tell 'im what's in +me 'art!" And in disappointment he held his thumb to his nose, by this +most desperate sign trying to express the insults his tongue could not +utter.</p> + +<p>Jeb was trembling.</p> + +<p>"Don't make him mad, Tim," he implored. "He might kill us!"</p> + +<p>"The dirty coward can only kill wan thing, an' thot's me body, but me +soul'll go on cussin' 'im till the ind av doom." He shook his fist +again, becoming more derisive: "Look at his head, now! If 'tain't the +shape av a rotten pear may I be shot for a spy!—mind ye how it slopes +up to a p'int, both fore-and-aft, and amidships; the fat-jowled swine!"</p> + +<p>The man had been regarding them stolidly. He may not have understood +Tim's insults, but the gestures were unmistakable. Without taking away +his stare he spoke a brief command to one of the sailors who ducked +below, reappearing with a rifle.</p> + +<p>Tim grew at once thoughtful, but Jeb, cower<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>ing lower, began to hurl +abuses at him. He had warned him, he cried; and now see what was going +to happen!</p> + +<p>Without further ado the sailor took deliberate aim and fired; the little +nurse flinched, shuddered, and relaxed. Tim looked down at her with +widening, almost unbelieving, eyes; then raised his face to the sky and, +like a wounded animal, emitted one long howl. All of the plucky +sergeant's grief, fury, self-condemnation—aye, and love—were in that +wail of agony.</p> + +<p>The sailor was aiming for another shot when Jeb's ears were filled with +a weird, screeching noise; a violent jolt of air almost knocked him from +the box, and a geyser of spray shot up ten feet from the submarine's +bow. Before even the deep boom of the distant gun that had fired this +projectile reached him, another screeching followed, another jolt of air +struck him in the face, and this time, with a mighty roar, the undersea +boat split almost in two.</p> + +<p>Had not the officer and two sailors been so intent upon a petty revenge +they might have seen, coming at express speed between themselves and the +sun, a British fast patrol; how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>ever, it is difficult at best to detect +spots against so dazzling a light—and there is, besides, the working of +an all-powerful justice to be reckoned with!</p> + +<p>The two sailors, standing between their commander and the explosion, +crumpled up as if they were air bags pricked with a knife; but the +officer did not fall. He staggered once, nearly losing his balance, and +then looked stupidly at the great hole into which roared a revenging +sea. His U-boat was sinking fast; though by no agency from within. Those +below would forever remain below; they had made their own grave, and +their casket would be the steel monster which typified the steel-clad +hand of another monster—their master!</p> + +<p>But the officer did not think so loyally of his master when he found +himself about to face a Higher King. The steel-clad hand had forsaken +him; even the German God—the "made in Germany" one which German +professors and German pastors were loud in proclaiming as distinct and +more refined than the God who watches over England, France and +America—had now forsaken him. He felt the same im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>pulse to howl that +Tim had felt, although love and self-condemnation were not a part of it; +only hatred. The water had reached his feet; with one more look around +he sprang outward and began to swim.</p> + +<p>"I've been prayin' for thot, me darlin'," Tim whispered. His arms +relaxed from about the little dead nurse. With fingers of tenderness he +untied the life belt tapes, then let her sink gently into the waves. +"God bless ye, lass! 'Tis only today we met, but ye'll live wid Tim +Doreen an' no ither till he's sent west to ye!" Leaning forward he +watched her as she sank into the light green water, her hair streaming +gracefully upward as though waving him goodbye, till the brightness of +it was claimed by the darker green below. Then Tim became another man.</p> + +<p>"Which way is thot——" he bellowed, but he saw the pear-shaped head +before Jeb could answer. With one gesture of fury he stripped off his +own life belt, and yelled: "Now, ye murderer av women, wan av us is due +in hell, an' 'tain't Tim Doreen, ayther, ye tub av slop!"</p> + +<p>He struck out powerfully, straight for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> man he had sworn to kill, +but in changing once from the overhand to side stroke he saw Jeb, white +as a sheet, swimming directly behind. Without pausing, he asked:</p> + +<p>"W'ot the divil brings ye here?"</p> + +<p>"I owe him something, too," Jeb panted. "I'm coming."</p> + +<p>For an instant the sergeant forgot his oath, and a slow grin overspread +his face.</p> + +<p>"Well, w'ot d'ye know about thot?" he said. "God bless ye, lad; but ye +can help best by settin' on the box. 'Tis me own fight; do as I tell ye, +now!"</p> + +<p>Jeb could not have described that fight, because he was too far off to +see distinctly—and Tim never referred to it. But he saw the German, +when Tim had come to within ten feet of him, turn and begin swimming +frantically away. There was doubtless something in the sergeant's eyes +that sapped the other's courage. Relentlessly Tim gained, each stroke +bringing him a few inches nearer, till he seemed to crawl up on the +officer's back. After that they might have been two splashing fish—till +Tim began slowly to swim back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"God, Tim," Jeb cried, holding out a hand. "I wish you'd let me come! +I—I believe I might have done it!"</p> + +<p>The sergeant drew himself on the tippy box, and panted:</p> + +<p>"Ye'll have a chance, lad whin ye see ither dastardly things thim +outcasts do! No man can keep from fightin', Jeb! Shure, an' the Boches +make their own wur-rst inimies!"</p> + +<p>He sat despondently, regaining his breath and blinking the water from +his eyes, when something caught to a sleeve button on his tunic made him +stare. It was a short piece of black-and-white striped ribbon—the Order +of the Iron Cross—which the German had worn in a breast button-hole of +his uniform.</p> + +<p>"Well, w'ot d'ye know about thot," he mused.</p> + +<p>Slowly he twisted off the button, and the ribbon with it, then leaned +above the spot where the little nurse's hair had waved her last +farewell, and let them sink.</p> + +<p>"'Tis me first dicoration, darlin'," he whispered; and it was not the +ocean water now that blinded him.</p> + +<p>Just as the red sun dipped that night the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> patrol boat picked up the +last piece of human wreckage, and dashed toward the coast of France.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p>Barrow's unit had suffered sorely, but its gaps were filled from other +sources and fresh supplies received from home. Close upon the middle of +August it moved to take the field. This delay had not been without +advantages, perhaps the chief of which was a fluency in French that many +of his men were able to acquire. It had also given Jeb an opportunity to +acquire an entirely new viewpoint regarding the purposes of this war, +which had not penetrated to Hillsdale.</p> + +<p>As the train now proceeded slowly, switching here and there to let other +strings of cars pass toward the front with more important freight, Jeb +felt that he was at last nearing the great adventure. His experience +with the submarine left an indelible effect without producing anything +like the result Tim would have desired. For Jeb had been involuntarily +projected into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> that crisis before being given time to think; he had +gone with the stream, not buoyed by courage but spurred by despair. Once +tossed into the hideous vortex, he simply had to get out—which was +vastly different from deliberately going into it with eyes ahead, as now +when he approached the battle front! Nevertheless, the torture he faced +upon the floating box, although unknown to him, left an impress for the +good.</p> + +<p>As he sat uncomfortably drawn up on the seat of a third-class +compartment he missed Tim, and wondered dully if the regiment, which +that little son of Mars had said was waiting for him—at +attention!—could now be in the thick of things. He pictured Tim chasing +Germans with the same dogged nerve that he had chased and caught the +murderer of the little nurse. As evening fell, battle scenes grew vivid +in the twilit compartment, because he was thinking again! Whenever +speeding trains passed, their approaching rumbles would make him start, +and leave him sick in spirit; for each time he would at first mistake +them for the growling of distant guns, and he dreaded the hour when +these sounds would reach him. He despised the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> thought of guns, despised +the military trains, despised the war, the blood and maiming;—he +despised himself. He needed Tim!</p> + +<p>"Is there anything on your mind, old fellow?" one of the unit asked him +kindly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," he forced himself to laugh. "Have a cigarette, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Early next morning, after an almost sleepless night, the unit +disembarked at a village standing as a solitary outpost on the edge of a +great unknown wilderness. Beyond this point the railroad, even +civilization, had been paralyzed by the dragon that fed upon humanity. +If Jeb expected the villagers to be out in force to greet Barrow's unit, +he was disappointed; for, with the exception of a crippled man +laboriously pushing a cart, a nun who with bowed head came from one +doorway and hurried into another, and a bent old woman struggling to +take down the night shutters from her shop window, the place might have +been deserted. On the far side of his train, however, where he had not +looked, a group of soldiers lounged about their wagons waiting to take +these passengers of mercy forward; unshaven chaps they were, well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +meriting the nickname of <i>poilus</i>—"the hairy ones."</p> + +<p>Now that the train had stopped he could hear the far-off growling of +guns; deep-voiced monsters which his imagination pictured straining on +their leashes while snarling at each other across the space of +miles—truly dogs of war! He drew farther back in the seat, dreading to +get out; but the moment had come, the fellows and nurses were moving to +the door, the great task was at hand! He tried, while standing, to +simulate indifference, but his legs were weak and his teeth chattered, +just a little, in spite of his effort to control himself. It seemed as +if he were forever wanting to yawn, conscious of the heaviness upon his +chest.</p> + +<p>With Dr. Barrow and a lieutenant on the first creaking wagon, the others +followed, but there was no road. A morass was there, that formerly had +been a road—a ditch sloshy with mud which, in some places, made it +necessary for all hands to climb down and put their shoulders to the +wheels.</p> + +<p>"It is trying, this traveling in limbers," the lieutenant smiled +apologetically. "The inces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>sant hauling up of shells from our bases +destroys the best of roads in a few days. But what would you?" he +shrugged, smiling again. "If the ammunition dumps are constantly +depleted, they must be fed!"</p> + +<p>The far-off French artillery, in skillfully emplaced positions to right +and left, seeming to enfilade on a point immediately ahead, was so +vigorously directed that the German guns must have been dazed, since +their counter-battery work sounded spasmodic and—so far as distance +permitted Jeb to guess—never effective. Yet he was moving toward that +tumult; as inexorably as death, he approached it. With eyes feeding upon +this new world and ears startled by fierce rumblings, he felt as though +he were living in a nightmare; and when the next minute threatened to +snap his reason or strangle his frantically pounding heart, he turned to +the driver, asking—but fearful of the answer:</p> + +<p>"Who's winning this battle?"</p> + +<p>It was spoken only in Hillsdale French, aided by a two months stop in +Paris; but his poilu companion smiled brightly and replied in the +average Paris English:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Monsieur, there is now for three days what you call <i>moment +decalme</i>. Tomorrow, if no rain, <i>oui</i>!—perhaps a ver' fine battle!"</p> + +<p>Then this was a lull!—this cannonading, that to Jeb seemed reaching +from skyline to skyline, was only a lull! Merciful God, he cried in his +soul, what might a battle be like!</p> + +<p>By midday, after hours of frightful tugging, they were halfway on their +journey, being well out on what two weeks ago was the battle field, but +now presenting a picture of broadcast desolation. Shell craters, caused +by heavier projectiles burrowing and bursting, pockmarked the ground +like a telescopic photograph of the moon. Fields, so lately rich with +waving grain, were blasted into subsidences and cavities, bisected by +crumbled trenches before which the wreckage of barbed-wire +entanglements—a fortnight since forming barriers so impregnable as to +resemble from a distance walls of red rust—lay snarled and tied into a +million knots by the ruthless lyddite fingers.</p> + +<p>It was a pastoral landscape distorted by the paralysis of suffering and +death, and Jeb realized that not for many years would these tor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>tured +fields regain their tranquillity. Where were rises, now lay depressions; +the loamy top soil was blown into dust and scattered to the winds, while +sterile clay and pebbly strata had been boiled up from below to take its +place. Mixed with this mass of unprofitable earth, strewn over its +surface and buried for a depth of thirty feet, were thousands of tons of +other wire, iron stakes, and wire stanchions; cartridge cases, rifles, +and gas gongs; sand bags, iron scraps, and forge tools; steel helmets, +spades, and telephones; pieces of uniforms, water pipes, pick axes, gas +masks, binoculars, trench periscopes, blankets, surgical dressings, +boots, aye, and human bones—all, all things which the plow shares of +coming generations would be turning up to remind man (should man ever +forget) that Humanity had once been outraged by a people who, although +made in the imitation of Christ, preferred to assume the habits of +beasts.</p> + +<p>"How, in the name of God," Jeb cried, "could any army stand before such +a blasting as must have been here!"</p> + +<p>"Our army did, Monsieur," the driver said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> quietly. "It not only stood, +but drove the Boche far back."</p> + +<p>"Well, I take off my hat to your army!"</p> + +<p>"The world does, also, Monsieur," his companion replied; although it was +modestly spoken, without a hint of boastfulness. "We do not fight like +the Boche, Monsieur," he added simply. "Their methods are more like a +mob with a bad conscience; they fight more with a dread of being +defeated than with the honesty of soldiers who have an honest cause."</p> + +<p>He then explained to Jeb that these fields, after all, represented +merely the face to face struggle of man and man, and were therefore less +sickening than the devastation they would see farther on, which stood as +a monument to the enemy's vilest cupidity. This became apparent when +they began to cross that stretch of country gloatingly described by +German newspapers as "the empire of death"—meaning a territory seven or +eight miles in width, extending over the entire front, which by order of +"the High German Command" was converted absolutely into waste. Forced by +the Allies to retreat, this "High German Command" con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>ceived that, by +leaving a barrier of desolation and cruelty so terrible, no army would +be hardy enough, or have heart enough, to advance across it. Their +system was complete, as the results now showed—although their +calculations had gone wrong.</p> + +<p>"First, Monsieur," he said, "they began by robbing the American Relief +Committee's supplies, immediately following their solemn pledge to +permit this food to succor the starving peasantry; therefore those +pitiable folk, already tragic human wrecks, continued to starve. Next +they killed these peasants' cows to fill their own precious bellies, and +then the little babies began, by slow starvation, to die. But the men, +women, and boys old enough to till the soil, or work in German +factories, were fed and sent away; the girls pretty enough to wait upon +German officers—you know what that means, Monsieur—were dressed in +stolen finery and, weeping, driven to their new positions—six hundred +of them taken from within the space that you are looking on now, +although we have learned that many succeeded in killing themselves. Only +the helpless aged and the babes escaped these brutalities; for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> they, +being useless, were left to the mercy of the vultures, unless salvaged +by our army. Right on this ground we saved many such, Monsieur; <i>Mon +Dieu!</i> but how our army did weep over them!"</p> + +<p>Jeb had already seen enough to bring this recital well within the focus +of truth, and as the wagons wound slowly forward he further saw to what +depth of hatred and cold malice the mind of that "High Command" +descended. Burned villages and hamlets might have been expected, as +conflagrations spring from bursting shells, yet even his inexperienced +eye detected a very sharp distinction between ruins wrought by military +operations and the vandalism caused by unbridled, bestial passions. For +nowhere upon this barren outlook had a house been left standing—all was +a mass of tumbled brick and stone and clay and twisted timbers, licked +by flames or crumbled by explosions scientifically placed by German +engineers; nay, nor was there even a barn, nor an agricultural implement +with which some palsied peasant woman might in time reclaim her land. +Iron of plows, of harrows, of cultivators, lay in piles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> amidst the +ashes of their frames; spokes of wagon and cart wheels had been hacked +to splinters, and harness cut into useless bits. Wells had been fouled +by chucking in their own dead, or stable refuse. In the orchards every +tree stood girdled, the immature fruit wrinkled amidst withered leaves. +Never again, unless French nurserymen sped here hastily to bridge from +bark to bark, or graft onto the old stumps,—as they had elsewhere +attempted with varying promise—would these slopes of arboriculture put +forth buds; neither would the poplars, planes, mulberries, willows—all +had been granted citizenship to this newly created German Empire, "the +empire of death."</p> + +<p>"Where are those whom you did not salvage—I mean the girls? Are they +still in the German lines?" Jeb asked.</p> + +<p>"Not if they have found a way to die," his comrade answered in a +whisper. "The Belshazzar feast of those Prussian swine, Monsieur, is the +Calvary of every maid who does not find a swifter way to God—but the +debauched officers know that, and keep them closely guarded. Oh," he +cried, "our hearts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> give thanks that your country is coming to help us +avenge these things! All along we have said that if the American spirit +of decency and fairness—so well known and loved by us—could but see +even the little which you have seen, your armies would be pouring to our +aid!—just as your wonderful nurses have come!"</p> + +<p>Jeb felt a rush of self-righteous anger that for the moment transcended +his horror of going forward. While in Paris he had read official +translations from the German press; now with his own eyes he was looking +upon the things gloatingly described in the <i>Berliner Tageblatt</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> when +it told the people of Berlin: "The enemy's mouth must stay dry, his eyes +turn in vain to the wells—they are buried in rubble. No four walls for +him to settle down into; all levelled and burnt out, the villages turned +into dumps of rubbish, churches and church towers laid out in ruins. +Smouldering fires and smoke and stench; a rumble spreading from village +to village—the mine charges still doing their final work, which leaves +nothing more to do."</p> + +<p>It was a cry of false triumph that must have stirred the German soul to +joy, because the very next day, he now remembered, the +<i>Lokalanzeiger</i><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> had boastfully added: "No village or farm was left +standing, no road was left passable, no railroad track or embankment, +nothing, nothing whatever, not a tub, not a bench for those who will +succeed them in the abandoned places. <i>What they could not take with +them they have burnt or smashed.</i> In front of our new positions runs an +Empire of Death—a Death which lays the shrivelled hands of destruction +upon <i>all the works of Man and all the bloom of Nature</i>." This, "by +order of the High German Command."</p> + +<p>It was the last word of Barbarity! But what the <i>Berliner Tageblatt</i> and +the <i>Lokalanzeiger</i> did not tell their readers, Jeb now realized with a +shudder, would have made a chapter of degeneracy and revolting crime +unparalleled in history.</p> + +<p>Yet, even in the face of this, he turned sick at the thought of going +forward to the certain annihilation awaiting him in that ghostly +wilder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>ness of mist and wet and wreckage ahead. On the other hand, how +in God's name could he keep from going, he asked himself, when the blood +of innocents was calling on every side! He felt again the "something +strong within him which commanded";—but he hated it!</p> + +<p>Had Dr. Barrow been sufficiently skillful with the knife, he might have +dissected out this better Jeb who insisted on going forward, and let the +other crawl into a shell hole to hide for the rest of time; then both +Jebs would have been supremely satisfied. But, being first and foremost +a courageous man, he did not suspect that any one of his unit could +possibly falter. Jeb knew this, and it made him feel all the more alone.</p> + +<p>They reached a rise in the rolling landscape and stopped to breathe +their beasts which were shaking the heavy limbers by their desperate +gasps for air. The ground sloped down and up again, and there, protected +from the enemy, a new world came into view—a world wherein American, +French and English engineers, commanding an army of construction, worked +fev<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>erishly, as ants. For an instant the nobler Jeb prevailed, and he +raised his eyes in a mute prayer of thankfulness for this trio of +forces—the strongest combination the world has ever seen! The rumbling +cannon ceased to jar his nerves, while he gazed wistfully at the low +clouds sweeping by in companies that seemed to hasten from this theatre +of wrath. Occasional gusts of white smoke burst into being just beneath +them and hung a moment suspended before racing on; or a distant squirt +of lace-like shrapnel, curving ever downward, came to see what went on +behind the Allied lines.</p> + +<p>Beyond these gusts and squirts of man-made clouds, observation +balloons—the "sausages" of the enemy—floated motionless above the +horizon, sometimes catching a fleck of sunlight and glistening like dull +silver. There were no German fliers in the air that day, but high above, +as gray vultures hungrily soaring over one spot, two American, two +British and four French airmen glided back and forth, in and out, +circling, circling. With such grace and ease did they pirouette through +their reconnaisance that Jeb was reminded of an aerial quadrille being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +danced five thousand feet above the earth; or, seeming to tire of this, +one of them would change the play to hide-and-seek, point toward the +translucent blue and scoot behind a cloud, with the others following. It +was a cordial invitation for the Boche to come up and fight! Jeb did not +see them again for several minutes, but he noticed that one of the kite +balloons suddenly burst into a little puff of flame and disappeared. +Unconsciously, he grinned.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacre bleu!</i>" the <i>poilu</i> cried delightedly. "More honor to our +'75's'!"</p> + +<p>"I thought the planes did it!" Jeb turned in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Monsieur! That was done by one of our guns six miles away!"</p> + +<p>Below the pirouetting airmen there was no poetry of motion. Here men +strained and panted and wiped grimy sweat from their eyes. A month ago +this ground ahead had been vigorously contested—the very spot on which +Jeb now stood had been well within the German lines.</p> + +<p>In the thoroughness with which the engineers were making fast their +gains, a military ob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>server would have read that not only would the +Allied army draw the sting from this "empire of death," but that never +again would this part of France be yielded to alien hands. As far as the +eye could reach roads were being improved, others made; the buried +railways were being excavated, metals straightened, or replaced if too +far bent; shell-proof dug-outs were having their finishing touches, some +to be used as dressing-stations for the wounded whom to-morrow might +bring in, others for storing ammunition. In a nearby wood, where trees +had been reduced to little more than gaunt trunks barren of leaf and +twig, observation posts were built with many tons of branches hauled +from the rear, and so artfully wired in place that the stricken giants +seemed almost ready to live again. This work in itself constituted +reason enough for the Allied airmen to sweep the sky of German +observers, since only by "putting out the enemy's eye" could such +secrets of camouflage be preserved. Wells were being bored by gas engine +power and pipes laid, as spider webs, to bring untainted water to man +and beast. Then, of course, shallow trenches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> had to be dug for +telephone wires which otherwise would perish in the first onslaught of +artillery fire.</p> + +<p>Among the trenches of greater magnitude, recently pounded to the point +of obliteration, activities were being pressed at highest tension, for +here the destruction had been particularly severe. The Germans had held +them well, but no human agency could have prevailed against the +unfaltering valor of the Allies. Now they were in Allied hands, and +being prepared for Allied shelter. From sunken approaches to the +assembly trenches, and from there forward through an intricate maze of +communicating passages to the firing trench, tens of thousands of men +were busy with pick and shovel—not, however, constructing the narrow, +steep-sided affairs which proved so disastrous to the Germans on the +Somme, but a shallower type of trench having more flare and a wider +sole. Just behind them worked the plumbers and pipemen, the carpenters +and timber placers, the electricians with their coils of wire and +telephones; everything perfected with the greatest nicety today, which +tomorrow—or the next, or next,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> tomorrow—would be buried for future +plowshares. War could not be war unless it were the highest expression +of construction and destruction, even as it raises life and death to the +highest power of sublimity!</p> + +<p>Boring like huge worms from the front line outward, were tunnellers, +biting into the earth with grim persistence to lay mines beneath the +enemy; not that this work would be finished in time for tomorrow's +action, wherein plans were already completed to press forward, but +should the German positions prove firm enough to establish another +temporary deadlock, then they would serve a purpose. By such forethought +are battles won, when nothing is underestimated, nothing overlooked, no +shade of opportunity neglected, and all chances accounted for.</p> + +<p>"I never dreamed it was so gigantic a game as this," Jeb gasped.</p> + +<p>"But there is much more, Monsieur," his companion smiled.</p> + +<p>"Does no one ever rest?" Jeb asked, in a voice of awe.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Monsieur," the <i>poilu</i> smiled again. "In places where the +trenches have been cleared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> and mended, where telephone wires have been +connected to instruments, where water pipes have been brought down and +fauceted, flooring built across mucky places, gas gongs installed, +ammunition, grenades and tinned food stored in the newly finished +shell-proof chambers, you will find a few over-exhausted men sprawled +out, sleeping."</p> + +<p>While Jeb could see nothing of this, the driver promised to get him into +it soon enough—a suggestion that turned him away in search of other +scenes and thoughts. Off to the right two lines of snags marked what had +once been graceful poplars edging a famous <i>route national</i>, but +now——! He glanced quickly backward along the direction from which he +came. Here, at first, a brighter prospect met his eyes: the far-off +rolling slopes were green, the far-off woods had not been stripped of +leaves; but never could the grim story be quite wiped out for, across +this verdant scene, as a long, thin reptile with a million legs, crawled +an endless line of artillery and munition trains.</p> + +<p>"Can't I ever get away from it!" he cried to himself, shutting his eyes +in agony.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>The horses had been rested and word came to proceed; the limbers creaked +and moved. Jeb gripped the seat in terror, feeling now that before they +got half way down the slope a German gunner would pick them out and +touch the magic spring which reduces men—not symbolically but +literally—to dust. Yet he breathed more freely and sent another prayer +up for the engineers when almost at once they entered a sunken road, +converging toward the enemy although keeping well out of sight. At +places where the terrain did not admit of this shelter, or other roads +went off at tangents, long strips of canvas were stretched across the +openings, their outer sides being painted, in theatre scenery fashion, +to represent the surrounding ground. If the Germans had only known that +thousands of troops and thousands of tons of ammunition passed daily +within easy range of their guns, protected by a wall of 10-ounce canvas! +Another important reason for sweeping their planes from the sky!</p> + +<p>The <i>poilu</i> called Jeb's attention to these ingenious devices of +camouflage, seeming to think them a great joke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But for the good God having made the Boche, Monsieur, I should call +them asses with long ears for never estimating our <i>finesse</i> and +resource."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be disrespectful, Frenchie," one of the unit laughed, +"because the good God made asses, too!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Monsieur, I feel there should be an apology somewhere! Perhaps it +is to the four-footed asses."</p> + +<p>They climbed down at last and, each loaded with supplies, tramped +through half a mile of communicating trenches to the protected +dressing-stable dug-outs—roomy affairs, twenty feet below the surface +and opening rearward into a kind of quadrangle. Five hundred yards ahead +were the firing trenches, where things would happen; and the <i>poilu</i>, +observing this, grimly remarked:</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacre bleu!</i> They certainly have ordered you up to the very front, +Monsieur! 'Tis not often the women are brought so close—but it means, +Monsieur, that our Generals are positive of driving the Boche far back +tomorrow!"</p> + +<p>The chief surgeon in charge here rushed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> meet them with open arms, +embracing Dr. Barrow warmly; and then Barrow stepped back to look at +him, for this was the great Bonsecours! Georges Bonsecours! He saw a man +of medium height, and of medium build, slightly gray about his temples, +and in the neighborhood of forty years of age. No one of these things +was particularly distinguishing, but when he spoke—ah, then the +impelling magnetism which drew others close to him, the force which sent +them flying off to various duties, was easily explained. His eyes, while +twinkling merrily as though everything in life possessed a touch of +humor, also gave the impression that they could see beneath five layers +of skin tissue—that by some canny second sight they could detect a +piece of shrapnel without the aid of probes or X-ray; but a closer +inspection showed that they were set in a face which had become seamed +by weariness. His arms, also, hung with a directness that indicated +great fatigue.</p> + +<p>While supplies were being stored away and the women nurses had retired +for a needed rest, the world-famed surgeon escorted Dr. Barrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> farther +down the line of dressing-stations, particularly to see his own unit +which had been in this sector since the middle of April.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Doctor," he said,—then continued in beautiful English—"I +am greatly impressed with the fortitude of your American women who have +assisted me. There is one—but why mention one, when they all typify to +my mind graceful columns of ivory; pure in their strength and certainty, +crystal in their thoughts and deeds! My operating table is a Grecian +temple, Monsieur, when they surround it."</p> + +<p>"That is a beautiful tribute," said Barrow, flushing with pride.</p> + +<p>"Not as beautiful, Monsieur, as the inspiration and assistance which one +of them has given me." He stopped, blushing like a girl, then continued +frankly with an infectious smile: "We learn to be outspoken on the edge +of No Man's Land—perhaps it is because we never know at what moment our +lips may be completely sealed that we appreciate the value of saying +fearlessly what is in our minds; therefore I will finish by telling you +that, next to an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> Allied victory, my greatest hope is that she may be +persuaded to share my fortune in Paris, after we are finished with the +fortunes of war!"</p> + +<p>"I could wish no girl better luck than that," Barrow smiled. "To us at +home you stand as a kind of demi-god, a wizard, who——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Monsieur, I have accomplished nothing, really, until I came here, +where her sympathy and bravery have made me see new things! I tell her +that she inherits these traits from an angel mother and an American +Indian father."</p> + +<p>Both men laughed delightedly; Dr. Barrow little dreaming at the moment +that this American girl, beloved by every one around her, was the +daughter of an old friend who edited a paper down—or was it up?—in +Hillsdale.</p> + +<p>"You see that we are close to things here," Bonsecours continued, as +they walked along.</p> + +<p>"I had wondered about the women being so near the front," Barrow +replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, Monsieur, in some sectors this position is safer for them than +farther back—only, of course, when our artillery and line is as strong +as here, and the dressing-stations as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> well protected. Besides," he +added softly, "we are needing many nurses, and have lost fearfully in +men and orderlies."</p> + +<p>The sun set clear that evening, putting a sparkle in the air which +touched one's nerves like wine. Shortly before twilight Jeb was drawn to +the entrance of his dug-out by the tramping and sloshing of many feet. +He walked the length of the quadrangle to where it joined a +communicating trench and for half an hour—even after the night had +grown too dark to see distinctly—watched an incessant line of soldiery +moving forward to positions. Tramp, tramp, they went, under orders of +silence, because something big was on the boards for tomorrow. But 'twas +not the quiet of glumness that enveloped them, for they showed in every +step an elasticity of spirits, as of muscles. He might have called it a +fluid line, so lithely did it flow by; he might have called it a line of +gods, so proudly did each man hold his steel-capped head!</p> + +<p>The firing trench lay about six hundred yards from the German first +line; six hundred yards of No Man's Land waiting passively for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +shambles! Jeb wrung his hands and leaned against the earthen wall. With +that stark struggle for existence but a few hours off, how was it +possible for men to step out happily! What would he be doing, were he +amongst them!</p> + +<p>The line was still passing, coming out of the impenetrable and +marching—who knew where! when he stumbled through the dark entrance of +the dug-out.</p> + +<p>"What's going on out there?" a comrade asked.</p> + +<p>"Ghosts," he answered, feeling for his bunk and throwing himself face +down on it.</p> + +<p>He was tired to exhaustion, his nerves were starved for rest. The +dug-out was chilly after sundown and he reached fumblingly for his +blanket, found himself lying upon it and awkwardly wriggled under.</p> + +<p>The warmth was good. In a little while the steady tramp of men going to +kill or die—for 'tis thus the gods play with us!—became a soothing +lullaby, and lured him into sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p>From this deep slumber Jeb was aroused by the very incarnation of +doomsday noises that sent him bounding to the floor with nerves aquiver. +The blanket dragging after him hung from his shoulders, even as +bewilderment and sleep clung to his mind. His senses knew that it was +night, although details about him were brought into sharp relief by a +thousand flashes spasmodically flooding the dug-out with fiendish +brilliancy; and he knew that his body was cold, although the walls and +timbers seemed to be consumed by raging fires. He felt the ground +trembling in the throes of a titanic upheaval, while his entire being +seemed to be hammered and torn by the frightful cataclysm of sounds. He +stood as though paralyzed, unmindful that bits of earth and gravel were +sifting through chinks between the ceiling timbers and falling on his +head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>Other members of the unit had staggered into wakefulness and sat staring +at him, he thought, with greenish, flickering faces—accusingly, as if +he were responsible. Each knew the French guns had searched out and were +crumbling up the German defenses, but none had previously suspected that +an artillery bombardment could reach such fury. The desultory firing of +yesterday might well be understood as a <i>moment decalme</i>!</p> + +<p>In this instant of terrified amazement Jeb and his comrades remained as +statues, simply staring with owlish eyes devoid of intelligence, since +it was well nigh impossible for men, uninitiated, to master their +faculties until the first shock had been absorbed.</p> + +<p>'Twas not so much the roar of cannon from their distant places in the +rear—although these alone might doubtless have been startling +enough—but the shower of projectiles falling on the doomed line only +six hundred yards across No Man's Land. In answer to this bombardment +from an eight-mile line of guns accurately trained the day before, enemy +guns, trained with lesser accuracy, did their best to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> inflict an equal +punishment. The effect was a combination of the solemnity and the +littleness of man which defies every knack of human expression to +depict.</p> + +<p>The seasoned soldier could have told some things; he could have +distinguished calibre from calibre as readily as the skillful fox hunter +knows the position of his racing hounds by the quality of their voices. +He could have spotted the vindictive crash of "75's," the deep-toned +bellowing of "heavies," or, nearer by—had they been in action—the +banging of trench mortars. In the sky he could have told from white or +greenish-orange flashes, from lace-like wreaths or fixed-star blasts, +where shrapnel or high explosive shells had burst; from the ringing of a +gas gong he could tell where "green cross" shells were falling; he +could, and gladly would, have explained—to his own satisfaction, at +least—the many freak phenomena: a solitary light spirally ascending +upward until lost in the clouds; sprays of fire and spark-showers +illumining the sky; rainbow arcs of angry red that flickered, as an +aurora borealis, from horizon to horizon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the uninitiated Medical Corps unit, numbed to inertia, was only +sensible to an overhead riot of screeching demons, as shells hurtling +forward were passed and answered by shells hurtling back—a sky of +flying steel and a horizon of blasted earth! In moments of greatest +concussion, simultaneous with the most blinding flashes, the air about +their faces seemed to jump; crazy little vortexes scurried past the +dug-out opening, or flew in across the floor, like phantom kittens +seized by some curious madness. To Jeb's highly imaginative, and now +half-crazed, mind these represented newly liberated souls, in anguish +seeking refuge from the hurricane of death and its drenching rain of +fire. He had not then found out how many hundreds of shells must be +fired to wound one man!</p> + +<p>On the Allied side the bombardment, with growing intensity, became a +<i>barrage</i>. Explosions came as thick as drum taps when a roll is sounded. +There seemed to be no intermission, really; no more, at any rate, than +one's ear can detect between clicks in a telegraph room when the +instruments work rapidly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barrow and Bonsecours ran in. They looked weirdly grotesque in the +fitful playing of lights, and Bonsecours shouted something, although no +voice seemed to issue from his lips. Then with vigorous gestures he +beckoned the men up to him—having come especially to get this new unit +straightened out, since his own veterans knew exactly what to do.</p> + +<p>Jeb had not moved, for the blanket still hung from his shoulders. +Neither had the others arisen from their bunks, so bewildered were they +also by the chorus of death engines.</p> + +<p>"Up now, and active!" the great surgeon yelled. "Stretchers! You go out +shortly!"</p> + +<p>"Go out!" Jeb screamed, finding his voice in a burst. "Go out!" he +screamed again. "God Almighty, no one can go out <i>there</i>!"</p> + +<p>His face was ghostlike, his eyes were large, staring, vacant. Bonsecours +stepped nearer and studied him, bellowing in a tone that had made more +than one man obey:</p> + +<p>"There are twenty thousand fine fellows, <i>mon chère enfant</i>, each about +to spring from his trench with the firm belief that if he gets hit we +shall bring him in. No man dares break faith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> with a friend who thus +relies on him!" He had put both hands on Jeb's shoulders and now +continued to look steadfastly, honestly into his eyes. Then quickly he +kissed him on both cheeks, saying: "I'll believe in you tonight, to do +as I would do were my duty not back here!"</p> + +<p>A strange feeling of warmth and strength passed through Jeb's veins, but +he was given no time for reply, because this man of iron turned to the +assembled unit, shouting:</p> + +<p>"At dawn this curtain of shells will be lifted and dropped on the Boche +second line. That instant our boys go over the top, across No Man's +Land. But Germans burrow under ground in a <i>barrage</i>, or run out forward +and lie down to escape it; so there will still be many with machine-guns +left to rake the open stretch, and not all of our brave fellows will get +across. It is those," he added, in a voice of thunder, "whom the good +God expects us to bring in!"</p> + +<p>There was no disobeying this man. Jeb felt sick through and through, but +as the others filed out, every second one with a folded stretcher, he, +also, followed. Yet he wanted to hold back; he wanted to dash into the +darkest niche of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> dug-out, bury his face there and—well, die! To +die at once, outright, was preferable to the mental torture of expected +laceration and suffering; nor could even the great Bonsecours have +convinced him that these two monsters were not crouching, waiting +especially for the moment when he should step forth.</p> + +<p>While the dressing-station shelters opened into a roomy quadrangle, that +in turn connected with trenches, there had also been cut narrow roadways +up past the side of each dug-out, ascending sharply toward the front. By +this rough and gravelly, though more direct, means, stretcher-bearers +could be upon the crest in a twinkling, thence forward and downward over +narrow bridges spanning the first line trench to No Man's Land itself.</p> + +<p>As the stretcher-bearers of Barrow's unit poured out beneath the sky—or +what would have been a sky had not incarnate fiends usurped it—Jeb +found himself moving next to Bonsecours. Even in this strain, when men +were thinking in terms of armies, the famous surgeon with infinite tact +went about supporting the props of one human atom. After all, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> had +been trained to mend one man at a time! He spoke no word until they had +climbed the sloping roadway and laid flat, peeping over; then, with his +lips close to Jeb's ear, he shouted:</p> + +<p>"Have no fear! When man calls on the highest expression of his will, he +becomes indomitable; he succeeds in the highest terms of success—and +thus will you succeed, <i>mon pauvre enfant</i>! Look!"</p> + +<p>He sprang up, pointing where the fringe of that French fire curtain +touched this great stage. The blinding lights flickered over his face +and made him supreme at that moment. In the continuous, head-splitting +noises of three thousand shells per minute, bursting on an eight-mile +segment, he looked more like a war god than an agent of mercy.</p> + +<p>The German position was crumbling—rather, it was being blasted out of +existence. To Jeb it might have marked the very brink of hell. The +flashes were almost as a steady white and greenish-orange blaze, and +showed the earth spurting in great bunches upward; stiff winds that had +sent clouds scurrying the day before now caught the ground smoke and +drew it, as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> sweeping prairie fire, back upon the enemy. This was a +propitious wind, and on its wings the death gas sped.</p> + +<p>Between the armies lay No Man's Land in utter desolation, but each +little detail, each inconspicuous bit of wreckage left from earlier +struggles, stood boldly outlined in the calcium glare. This was the +stretch of ground he would be searching when the curtain lifted—except +that its surface would then be strewn with men; some drawn up in pain, +some moaning, some whimpering, some cursing, some terribly still. Had +ever a curtain lifted on more poignant tragedy! Was there a parallel in +crime to this wholesale slaughter which a treacherous nation thrust upon +a peaceful world! Jeb tried to wonder how many dead might be there, but +found that his mind would not leave the point of destruction; it had +become riveted, as a bird is said to be mesmerized by a slowly +approaching snake.</p> + +<p>Lying just behind the ridge, feeling the earth tremble beneath his body, +waiting for Bonsecours' command to dash into that cockpit of suffering +and there mingle with the torn, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> dying and the dead, he repeated +over and over the great surgeon's words which bit into him like acid: +"It is those whom the good God expects us to bring in!"</p> + +<p>The dawn was coming! No sun appeared, but the flashes grew less +blinding; the ground close to his face began to show natural browns +where formerly had been flickering greens, and his hands looked more +alive than dead. Also did the whole scene change as sky and earth +increased their fury in this blending of the real and unreal; for, now +added to the noises and fitful lights, were huge balls of white smoke, +and brown, springing into quick existence; some expanded to balloon size +and swept majestically onward, upward; some, caught in a vortex of +madness,—swirling, writhing, darting,—formed devilishly gruesome +arabesques that yet were formless; some burst like pon-pons; some +released long streamers and darted earthward. Jeb's eyes were held by +this appalling grandeur; his soul was chained, numbed, by its unlicensed +braggadocio.</p> + +<p>As though some invisible hand touched the spring of a jumping-jack box +eight miles in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> length and released twenty thousand monkeys, the trench +beneath Jeb seemed to open with a snap. Even above the cannonading he +could hear men give vent to savage cheering. But his blood congealed and +his fingers dug into the earth, his breath came in agonized gasps, as he +watched them rush pell-mell, with bayonets fixed, across that deadly +strip of ground.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the artillery ceased. The far-off German guns still +roared, but they were as taps of rain upon a roof to ears that had +almost bled from other detonations. For a moment Jeb thought he had been +stricken deaf, and turned a questioning glance at Bonsecours, whose eyes +were staring ahead in strained expectancy.</p> + +<p>"See, Americans! The curtain has raised for our brave fellows, and it +will now fall on the second line!"</p> + +<p>In the immediate silence his voice seemed to be bellowing—then the +mighty guns, having lifted the range, crashed out again. Yet, mingled +with the blasting of this second line, could be heard the spiteful +rattling of machine-guns, the fusillade of rifle fire, as the enemy, +scram<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>bling to places from the punishment they had just been through, +poured death into the headlong charge.</p> + +<p>The scene to Jeb now became a phantasmagoria of horrors. Men running +with the speed of deer suddenly, and without apparent cause, pitched +forward, rose and again went down; some stumbled awkwardly and did not +try to rise. But the great wave, like a breaker rolling inward, swept +irresistibly. Tired and encumbered though each man was who made up this +wave, in a prodigiously short time they were pouring into the German +trench.</p> + +<p>Such is the accuracy of modern warfare—and of the French, who are the +finest artillerymen in the world—that at the expiration of six minutes +another appalling silence filled the air. The curtain of fire had again +been lifted, to fall this time still farther back; even as the sweeping +wave of infantry, without apparently a check, rolled on to take the +second German line just emerging from its bath of fire.</p> + +<p>Bonsecours seemed too fascinated to give or think of orders, yet he knew +the time was not quite ripe, for part of a division had yet to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> come up +from the assembly trenches in the rear, to form another wave which would +go barging after the first.</p> + +<p>Streams of these steel-helmeted fellows now began to pass—as the fluid +line had passed in yesterday's twilight—close below Jeb. In the +broadening daylight he could distinctly see their bronzed, immobile +faces; their swinging gait, suggesting abundant reserve power, and their +eyes that bespoke an utter disregard of dangers. They were men, second +to none in determination and reckless personal valor, who did not endure +hardship, but rode upon it; who did not work, without first laughing it +into play. If the sun was hot, they sweated good humor; and, if the sky +rained torrents, good humor trickled in rivulets down their backs. They +had learned to treat flying shells with contempt, except when any of +their comrades fell—and then a cold fury would burst amidst their +ranks, exploding, not into tears, but oaths! Those oaths!—snapped +barkingly from mouth to mouth while death was bursting right and left +and overhead, and bayonets were fixing for a greater toll!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jeb felt, with an uncanny sense of prophecy, that in this marching line +was depicted a new phase of man growing out of war. The individual +preferment which many of them enjoyed four years ago had thinned to +nothingness in the welding of this great warrior-force of comrades, who +never again would quite resume their former status. For, when a clubman +eats and sleeps and jokes and fights beside the waiter who used to bring +his cocktail, he learns to love that man, and the love is mutual; when a +millionaire is dragged to shelter by the husky grocer's boy who used to +leave a basket at his kitchen door, he also loves that boy, and the boy +loves him. Each finds in the other values which are not measured by +worldly goods, or the stamp of birth, or family influence; each sees in +the naked soul of each truer riches which transcend what formerly had +been false. And thus, in the armies of those supermen who after the war +march home to lasting peace, the stamp of aristocracy will be the +Aristocracy of Worth. It was many months before Jeb realized that, +almost unconsciously, he had read this prophecy in the fire of +death-dealing shells.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again the range lifted, this time past a hamlet that stood in partial +ruins on a hill. It had been spared complete destruction at German +hands, doubtless because the enemy had left it hurriedly, and now the +French artillerymen carefully avoided it lest a few old folk and +children might be there. The human wave would sweep it clean enough of +aliens! Yet that wave had come upon a rocky shore, and Jeb imagined he +could hear the metallic clash and rasp of bayonet on bayonet, the gasps +and sobs and curses of men fighting without quarter.</p> + +<p>The new division just brought up now scrambled over the top, but No +Man's Land had been largely stripped of dangers. Victory sparkled in the +air; safety smiled at Jeb; with these fellows carrying the battle ever +away from him, performing the unbelievable in pluck and endurance, he +did not so much mind the thought of going for the wounded! But the +uplift was transient—it fled in a panic as Bonsecours called:</p> + +<p>"Quick, <i>mes chère enfants</i>, be after them! Overlook no one! Let the +walking cases get in alone, and bring the others with all haste!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +There's one of your American girls in my unit who bids you God-speed! +Go!"</p> + +<p>The time had come! Dripping sweat from every pore, desperately seized +again with trembling, Jeb staggered to his feet and started forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p>Bonsecours' command had been well timed, for up and down the line other +men bearing stretchers bounded forward. Jeb's partner in this work, a +lanky middle-westerner, called "Omaha" for love—although "John +Hastings" was stamped in his identification disk—sprang out at a +dog-trot, crossing the trench bridge and quickly getting into the plain +below as if he were an old hand at this game instead of undertaking it +now for the first time.</p> + +<p>Jeb, following closely at his heels, had become utterly terrified. His +flesh was numb and his legs moved automatically, rather than by +conscious effort. The former mite of courage had atrophied. He felt +wretchedly alone and unprotected, as an atom of dust drifting across a +sunbeam. He wanted to clutch at something—to hold himself back—to +scream!</p> + +<p>Half a mile to right and left the Germans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> were plastering No Man's Land +with a pitiless fire, but thus far the ground immediately about him +remained scarcely touched. Shells occasionally burst on the trenches +just behind, but Barrow's unit luckily was being permitted to go without +serious embarrassment. And yet Jeb knew that it was only a matter of +time before he and Hastings would receive a blasting. He shivered, +jabbering words he could not have recalled a minute later; once cursing +himself for a coward, then calling himself a liar for having said it.</p> + +<p>There were not as many prone men on the field as he had expected to +find. To his bulging eyes which watched the first charge, men seemed to +be falling everywhere, but as a matter of fact this was not so.</p> + +<p>They had gone quite a third of the distance across when Hastings stopped +and unrolled the stretcher, shouting:</p> + +<p>"Here's one! Lend a hand, Jeb!"</p> + +<p>The coolness of the voice, its utmost naturalness, gave Jeb a most +agreeable feeling, and before remembering again that men who drop in +battle are things of blood and pain, he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> easing one gently over on +the brown canvas.</p> + +<p>They started to come in, Hastings at the forward handles, he at the +rear; moving as fast as the added weight permitted, skirting shell holes +and stepping over fragments of barbed-wire. Crossing the first trench +bridge a hundred faces looked up at them, steadily, unemotionally. +Another division had been brought up after the second wave swept out, +and a few of these fellows now said quietly: "Bravo!" But their thoughts +were with the chap who lay silent on the canvas.</p> + +<p>Reaching the top of the gravelly roadway that sloped to the +dressing-stations, burying their heels in the loose earth which rolled +along with them as they descended, the stretcher-bearers saw Barrow in a +white jacket, and several white-faced nurses expectantly waiting; for +this had been the first man brought in. Even as he was stripped and laid +upon the crude table, Jeb and Hastings were well on their way out again.</p> + +<p>In four hours No Man's Land had been fairly well cleared of suffering. +Although Jeb was growing indifferent to the sight of blood, several +times, as a result of extreme fear, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> been actively sick. The +shells were as terrifying as ever; moreover, he and Hastings had to +penetrate farther each time in search of wounded. Their last trip took +them nearly to the scarp of blasted ground on which stood the +half-destroyed hamlet. True, there had been shells bursting within a +hundred yards of Jeb; but it so happened that he was particularly +engrossed with lifting or easing some of the wounded. Once, when a +splinter of steel cut Hastings' sleeve, the lanky westerner gave a +whistle.</p> + +<p>"That was close," he said.</p> + +<p>And Jeb, newly terrified by the words, looked up quickly, asking:</p> + +<p>"Did one come by?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if it did, it did," Hastings answered. "Cut out your chills, Jeb, +and let's get this feller in!"</p> + +<p>But Jeb could not "cut out" the chill at once because another shell +burst while he was looking, driving him into a panic so acute that +Hastings began to swear.</p> + +<p>Toward midday the wind fell and the heat became intense. Smoke, acrid +and at times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> stifling, hung in the hollows like white- and +brown-streaked palls, and the unwholesome smell of burning which infests +battlefields was sickening. Jeb's clothes were wringing wet, and each +time he panted across the first trench bridge he noted how the waiting +men under steel helmets were drenched with perspiration. One of them +called up to him:</p> + +<p>"It's our turn next!—keep an eye open for me!"</p> + +<p>The fellow was trying to grin, but succeeded only in making an ugly +leer. Jeb read it in a flash—the man was afraid!—and a stinging sense +of mortification came over him as he wondered if his own face had been +as tell-tale—if it were now as tell-tale!</p> + +<p>Over on the battle front, and especially around the half-destroyed +hamlet, the Germans were contesting every foot that led to their third +line of defense, while the Allies fought with stark madness to dislodge +them. The airmen hovering above, having for the third time that day +swept the sky of combatants, saw with surprise that armies on both sides +were losing cohesion. Some units of the Allies had lost di<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>rection, +others bored their way through the German line then, finding themselves +hemmed in, fought out again; in many places were noticed small groups so +intent upon their own little conflicts that they seemed to be having no +part in the big game, at all. But these aerial observers realized that +the tremendous sledge-hammer blows, directed with consummate skill and +resiliency, left the mass of wastage on the German side; for, with +strategical and tactical problems suddenly changed from boxed-in trench +warfare to the elastic manoeuvers of open battle, the directing mind +which is more elastic, all things else being equal, wins the day—and, +whatever other virtues the Boche may possess, his mind can hardly be +said to expand spontaneously. At the same time, the enemy was dying +hard: fortifying at a moment's notice when forced into a corner, and +making heroic resistance with machine-guns in patches of woods, craters, +or other favorable moulding of the terrain.</p> + +<p>When Jeb sweated in behind Hastings at one o'clock he staggered down the +road without seeing it. From lack of food, and the horrible wrenching +nausea he had suffered, as well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> the terror gnawing more and more +into his soul, he was pretty well done for.</p> + +<p>Barrow, noting this with the eye of a skilful physician, sent a nurse +for black coffee and a bowl of soup, but Jeb rebelled in disgust at the +thought of it.</p> + +<p>"Come, now," his chief said commandingly, when the nurse returned, "shut +your eyes and drink them down, I tell you! We need you, Jeb; you mustn't +kick up sick the first day!"</p> + +<p>We need you! The words stirred new life in him. Then came a vision of +the great Bonsecours as he had pointed toward No Man's Land and cried: +"It is those whom the good God expects us to bring in!"</p> + +<p>He swallowed the soup and coffee, doggedly turned and followed Hastings +up the slope again. But, behind the back of his lanky partner, he was +whimpering softly. Never before had the battle scene beyond inspired him +with so much terror as now, for its ebb and flow was leaving a greater +human wreckage than the Red Cross men could handle. The wounded were +arriving at longer periods, because the stretcher-bearers were having +farther and far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>ther to go for them; and the disturbing fact was +becoming evident that there were less stretcher-bearers than had started +out in the morning.</p> + +<p>Before Jeb's eyes now the third division barged over the top, leaving +the front trench deserted. He saw the line hold beautifully for the +first hundred yards, then become more and more phantom-like as it +plunged deeper into the pall of smoke. He wondered dully if the fellow +who had said: "Watch for me!" had found his nerve, or was still grinning +the sickly leer of cowardice.</p> + +<p>"That smoke ain't such a bad screen, Jeb," Hastings shouted. "Come on; +let's get busy!"</p> + +<p>Into it again they passed; many times that afternoon they came out and +passed again into it. The last trip took them nearly to the old German +first line—since morning blasted level with the ground—before they +found a man who had not passed the point of aid. There were plenty about +them of the other kind, for machine-guns here had done frightful work. +Leading the way back, confused by sounds and smoke, Hastings lost +direction, coming within a trice of being picked up and carried by a +sud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>den rush of the French troops. Jeb, more insane with fear than +anger, cursed him with every oath he had ever heard, but the forward +stretcher-bearer, making allowances, went indifferently on.</p> + +<p>They had got about halfway when the wounded man suddenly raised up, +clutched at Jeb, and fell over to the ground. Jeb dropped the handles +and screamed with terror, for it had been a ghastly sight, just a little +more than his already badly rattled nerves could stand. But Hastings, +turning, kneeled down for a better look; then solemnly arose and pointed +with his thumb toward the conflict. Back they started for another load, +but this last experience had almost been Jeb's undoing. He was obsessed +with the idea that it had been the omen of Death reaching for him; he +was gasping pitifully, ever alert for shell fire, and cringing at +detonations too far off to be of danger. Try as he would to make his +feet go forward, his hands pulled against the stretcher handles, until +Hastings turned and repaid him with a longer string of oaths. These, and +a memory of the ennobling words of Bonsecours, gave him strength for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +new spurt; yet both soon began to lose efficiency.</p> + +<p>They had found a wounded chap and were well on their way out, crossing +the crater-scarred stretch which had been No Man's Land that +morning—for No Man's Lands shift from day to day. They moved slowly, +and Jeb was dragging; yet in an effort to keep going he had riveted his +gaze on the shoulders of Hastings. Then, suddenly, although Hastings' +shoulders remained unchanged, his head disappeared; evaporating into +air.</p> + +<p>For an instant it seemed to Jeb as though his eyes were playing a trick, +but the next second the lanky middle-westerner crumpled up. A warm mist +settled upon Jeb's face. With a piercing shriek of uncontrollable terror +he dropped the handles and sprang into the nearest shell hole; cowering +close under its side, pressing his mouth against the earth and moaning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p>The last case in Bonsecours' unit had just been lifted from the table. +Swathed in bandages it was laid once more upon a stretcher and carried +rearward to a waiting ambulance whose racks would then be filled. +Carefully, to spare his charges added pain, the driver engaged the +clutch and started, but in so vile a condition was this road that the +heavily loaded machine plunged as a mired horse. Yet there were no +groans. Teeth might have been grit within that canopy of suffering, but +the men were too game to make an outcry.</p> + +<p>A nurse having come as far as the ambulance, now gave a stifled sob as +she watched it lumber, like a huge beetle, over the uneven terrain. Her +arms stiffened and her hands closed into little brown fists—for she +knew too well what those bumps and plunges were doing to the lacerated +human freight!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>Standing alone upon a mound of earth and staring after it, her face +touched by the amber glow of a westering sun that hung as an immense +orange in the smoke of battle, all of Hillsdale would have gasped at her +amazing beauty. For the mere prettiness which they had known, enhanced +by happiness and laughter, was now transformed. As the chisel of Michael +Angelo first carved but a placid face for the Mary in his masterful +Pieta, and later gnawed into it shadows of pain and love until it became +a part of God, so had the chisel of suffering humanity brought out the +wonderful character which had been a latent part of this Nurse Marian. +Her figure, while always the embodiment of grace, though attuned to the +easy things of life, now stood as if it were akin to war's great sinew. +She seemed indeed to be an ivory column of strength and softness, of +support and beauty, of courage and tenderness.</p> + +<p>In another minute she turned and went back to the dressing-stations +where there was much cleaning up to be done—or as much as could be +done—before the next stretcher arrived. Yet it did not come. The room, +the table, the instru<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>ments had been put in order; the great Bonsecours +sat resting on a box, and the other nurses had stepped outside the +entrance, furtively watching. It seemed incredible that in all the +head-splitting noises so near to them there should not be wounded men +for the gathering!</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it," he arose and crossed to Marian. "But, surely, +some will be here soon!"—for, unlike Barrow's unit stationed a hundred +yards away, his orderlies and assistants had been trained in many +battles. There could be only one answer if they remained out much +longer!—and he would then go himself, to fetch his own cases. He had +done it many times before, which was one of the reasons the French army +worshipped him.</p> + +<p>"I'll run up and look," she cried.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm afraid," he said.</p> + +<p>"The great Bonsecours afraid?" she laughed—for, no matter how tired her +own body might feel, she always managed to laugh when he showed signs of +great fatigue.</p> + +<p>"Afraid I could not live if anything happened to you, <i>mon chère</i>," he +murmured.</p> + +<p>A startled look flashed into her eyes, slightly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> different than that +caused by the excitement of battle. Many weeks ago her intuition had +measured the strength of this man's love for her, and had seen with +unerring accuracy his honorable resistance to its pleading, when, during +temporary lulls in their work, he might have spoken. That he had said +this much now, indicated an overpowering mental and physical exhaustion. +Even as she realized this, he realized his weakness, and hastened to +add:</p> + +<p>"I will go; you must stay inside."</p> + +<p>"No, no," she sprang between him and the dug-out entrance. "You are so +tired! I know you've not slept for two days!"</p> + +<p>"Have you?" he smiled at her.</p> + +<p>"Lots!" she lied—and he knew she lied. "I want you to rest—you owe it +to them out there! It will take only a second for me to run up and have +one peep!—there's no danger in that, and I can tell you if they're +coming!"</p> + +<p>"It will bring them no sooner," he sighed, sinking back again upon the +box, "and there is danger—plenty of it."</p> + +<p>Almost immediately he was asleep. She looked at him tenderly for a +moment, then ran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> into the quadrangle, turning and following the steep +path which led to the high ground above the dug-outs.</p> + +<p>The scene beyond, as she now crouched and peered over the crest, was +what she might have expected—yet one can never become quite used to +such pictures as that! Below was the first-line trench, deserted since +the third division had been sent forward, and its emptiness gave her a +feeling of insecurity. She would have preferred a visual line of +stalwart fellows between her and the maddened enemy, instead of one that +had gone into the smoke. She looked back to see if another division were +coming up, but the intervening world seemed destitute of habitation, +save along the smoke-fringed horizon where French artillery spoke. Once +more she turned to the empty trench, her face perplexed and somewhat +frightened.</p> + +<p>Just ahead lay the No Man's Land of eight hours ago; the new one for +tomorrow had not yet been plotted out, but would doubtless lie a mile or +so nearer the Rhine. Her staring eyes then caught and held two men, +walking tandem, and she knew they carried a stretcher. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> were two +hundred yards away, obscured by smoke, and coming slowly. For an instant +she glanced over the field hoping to discover others, and, on looking +back, was amazed to find that the first were nowhere in sight. The air +was already more or less thick with death, and she gasped at the thought +of what their disappearance must mean.</p> + +<p>Indifferent to the warning of Bonsecours—whom she knew would never +hesitate were he in her place—she ran swiftly down to the trench, +kneeled on the narrow bridge and frantically called in the hope that +some one, slightly wounded or ill, perhaps, had been left behind who now +might help her. But the solitude was ghastly. She called again and +again, screaming that some of her unit had been shelled with the man +they were bringing in. The pity of this seemed infinitely worse than the +wounding of combatants; yet the ditch remained utterly devoid of +life—the only answer she seemed to catch was that it waited merely to +embrace the dead. Without giving a further thought to dangers, she +sprang up and ran out across the field.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>Going breathlessly, she watched for a glimpse of the brown stretcher. +Prone bodies might not have guided her aright, for there were several of +these; but the point she sought would have a stretcher, and there had +been no other stretchers within sight. Then she came upon it. Hastings +lay as he had fallen. One hand still grasped the handle—it was his left +hand, the side whereon he wore the Red Cross emblem. Quick tears blinded +her, but she brushed them away and kneeled by the wounded soldier. He +lived, although merciful unconsciousness had come to him. She looked +hastily around to see—at the same time wanting not to see—where the +other man had fallen, and shuddered when she realized that he must have +been blown to dust. The wounded soldier, then, was the only one here who +needed her! She started to roll him on the stretcher, intending to drag +it behind her and in this way sled him in; but its poles had been +shattered. She tried to lift him, and found that to be utterly +impossible.</p> + +<p>The confusion was maddening out there upon that deserted No Man's Land. +To the dug-out openings, pointing away from it, noises had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> been +partially tempered; certainly the acrid smoke was less down in the +quadrangle, and she had therefore not been prepared for quite such a +cataclysm. Now a shell burst within fifty feet of her, providentially +first burrowing, but sending a fountain of earth into the air that fell +upon her like hail. Another burst.</p> + +<p>In desperation dragging the wounded soldier to a nearby crater she slid +him into it, and was about to follow when checked by a curious +sight—for a man crouched there with his face against the side. One +could have died in that position, yet this man lived because his body +trembled visibly. Encircling his sleeve was the band of the Red Cross, +and upon seeing this she leaped down to him, asking fearfully:</p> + +<p>"Are you badly wounded?"</p> + +<p>He did not look around, and she laid a hand gently on his arm, not +daring to touch it firmly lest it be shattered.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she began again, in a louder voice, "are you badly wounded?"</p> + +<p>Slowly he turned a face matted with sweat and powdered earth, haggard, +as though it had been drawn up from a grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> She uttered a wild scream +of recognition.</p> + +<p>"Jeb!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes opened to him. They suggested fluid-vague sympathies and fears +that many a man would have bartered his life for; but this one before +her only stared back with a look that was hardly sane, then turned again +to the crater wall. He seemed to be stunned; without feeling, indeed, +because dust and grit were plastered on one of his eye-balls.</p> + +<p>"Jeb," she screamed, horrified at this, "tell me quickly where you're +hurt!—oh, Jeb!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head, muttering something she could not hear; but his +gesture implied a negative. At first she did not understand; she could +not reconcile this with the fact that he crouched inactive when wounded +men were gasping for relief.</p> + +<p>"Not hurt?" she insisted, taking hold of his arm. "But you must be, Jeb! +You must be—to be <i>here</i>!"</p> + +<p>Petulantly he shook off her hand; slowly she drew away from him, +beginning—yet fearing—to understand. "But you must be, Jeb! You must +be—to be <i>here</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Help me, Jeb! There's a man behind you hit pretty hard!—help me get +him in!"</p> + +<p>She had again reached out and taken hold of him, but this time he jerked +away, crying with his mouth against the earth:</p> + +<p>"Let him stay! Only a fool would go out there!"</p> + +<p>Her young eyes, already schooled in a realm of ravages that exists +beyond the ken of those who do not go to wars, grew suddenly older. They +seemed at last to have met a thing they could not look upon! They had +witnessed the dying of many men—but here was a dying soul! As she had +healed men, she now clutched for an heroic remedy in the hope of saving +this more precious thing than life. But first, pitifully pleading, with +her lips close to his ear, she asked:</p> + +<p>"You <i>must</i> be wounded! For the love of Christ tell me the shell blew +you here—that you didn't come willingly! Tell me even that you're +dying, Jeb, but not——"</p> + +<p>She could not say it, and waited, while his silence answered. Forgetting +everything else she sprang to her feet and stepped back, her eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +narrowing at what she had discovered to be under his uniform—or, +rather, not under it! In a panic she realized that here was a derelict +ship of manliness being irresistibly driven by a hurricane of Fear; that +a complete wreck was imminent unless she were the master-pilot. Her +cheeks were aflame with indignation, her body bending tensely forward +might have been a spring of steel set to release some instrument of +torture—and then she let the bolt descend like the wrath of furies.</p> + +<p>With the smoke of shells sweeping over them, sometimes enveloping her +head and shoulders as though she were looking through a storm of anger, +she called on God to witness that he was a cringing coward. She stood +above him transformed into a superb though outraged figure of Liberty, +lashing him with words that at any other time her tongue would have +refused to speak; words, some of which she did not know the meaning but +had heard from the lips of suffering soldiers. Unconsciously she was +following the maxim of a famous officer who one day said to her that all +men are cowards somewhere, but brave everywhere if sufficiently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +aroused; and now she brutally strove to bruise his soul, hysterically +telling herself that if it could be made to bleed it would become +purified.</p> + +<p>Much of this, owing to her incoherence and the noise of battle—and, +perhaps, the chaotic tumult in his brain—was unheard; but some little +of it registered, for suddenly he turned upon his knees and stared at +her, as though his normal faculties were beginning to quicken. For half +a minute he stared. No words, no gestures, could have been as eloquent +as the look which burned from his pale, haggard face; it was as liquid +fire being poured upon the woman for whom he had once avowed a love, and +who now cursed him! The tableau, with its weird setting—her +condemnation as a whip of flame curled snake-like above his head—might +have been a picture put into life, and called "The Flagellation of a +Soul"! Then, clapping his hands to his ears, he bowed his head, +shrieking:</p> + +<p>"Stop it! You hurt!"</p> + +<p>"I intend to hurt," she cried down at him. "If you were in the Army +you'd be stood before the wall and shot for this!—maybe they'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> do it +yet! Thank God, the people at home can't see you, you damnable coward!" +Yet with her next breath she was wailing to the torn world and tortured +air: "Tell me that I've lied! Oh, Jeb, tell me that I've lied!"</p> + +<p>He pressed his face again into the powdered earth, and something about +his dogged attitude said that she was going too far. Her woman's +instinct sent this warning just in time, abruptly causing her to realize +that a self-esteem once crushed into complete abasement can never look +upon fellow man with its former level eyes—and she was here to save, +not to destroy! The crouching figure on whom she had inflicted a wound +without having done the slightest good, was, after all, a big, +imaginative child in a vast night, utterly unprepared by rearing and +training, psychology or properly directed thought, to cope with this +demon-carnival into which he had been projected. And why should not the +shell's concussion have stunned him into this sad plight?</p> + +<p>Retrospection flickering as a shadow picture on the brain has more than +once averted tragedies. In the passing of a second she now saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> two +long-ago scenes: one, his desperate and victorious fight with a boy who +had kicked her puppy; the other, neighbors rushing with blankets to a +nearby pond, calling that he had swum out and saved a drowning +lad—nearly perishing in the effort! While she stared, still horrified; +while shells rent the air, and dust and smoke half blinded her, a spirit +of maternalism began to plead for this one-time schoolmate—champion of +her little dog, life-saver to a comrade! What had she done but add to +the agony of one already agonized beyond his power to escape!</p> + +<p>A great pity filled her soul, and her body seemed to become liquefied +into a tossing sea of tears. With a sob she bent over him and, as all +ages of womanhood instinctively understand, gently drew his head against +her breast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jeb! Can't you pull yourself together? Won't you try to be a man?" +she asked fiercely.</p> + +<p>He staggered up and backed against the crater, holding his hands out to +keep her off when she would have followed. But his cheeks had turned +from white to crimson, and his eyes flashed a holy, or an unholy, fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope to God I never get back to-night," he cried hoarsely. "I hope to +God you'll never have to look at anything as despicable as I've been!"</p> + +<p>It was he now who occupied the place of the mighty, and she the one who +felt like cowering. Turning savagely he all but tossed the unconscious +soldier to his shoulders, struggled up the shell hole and ran toward the +dressing-stations. Scarcely knowing that her feet touched ground, she +flew behind him; sobbing, laughing, wringing her hands—lifted by the +great storm of victory which swept her soul.</p> + +<p>But at the deserted trench he stopped, laid his burden on the little +bridge and turned back.</p> + +<p>"Jeb, take him all the way in," she pleaded, catching at his sleeve—but +he shook off her hand, yelling like a madman:</p> + +<p>"You can get help from here!—don't touch me!—I ain't fit!"</p> + +<p>The next instant he was dashing headlong into the smoke. Frantically she +screamed:</p> + +<p>"Come back!—Jeb!—your unit!"</p> + +<p>But she might have made the men on Mars hear as easily. Once she started +to run after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> him, yet the fruitlessness of such a chase—and, more +important still, the unconscious soldier's claim for aid—checked her. +Blinded by tears, she dashed up the road and down to the quadrangle, +staggered into the dug-out, and cried in a strange voice to Bonsecours:</p> + +<p>"There's a man out there I can't bring in!"</p> + +<p>He sprang up as if electrified. But her words had not alarmed him so +much as her appearance and, in desperation catching her by the +shoulders, he demanded:</p> + +<p>"What has happened—tell me!"</p> + +<p>"N—nothing," she sank upon the box, burying her face in her folded +arms. She was sobbing hysterically now, and nurses rarely did +this—until they snapped!</p> + +<p>"Tell me!—tell me!" he cried, leaning over her, and fighting as he had +never fought to keep from holding her close to him. His heart had been +too nearly starved, his strength too nearly exhausted, to withstand a +scene like this. "If you pity me, tell me what has happened," he +implored.</p> + +<p>She did not look up, but impulsively reached for one of his hands and +pressed it fiercely, al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>most savagely, against her cheek. This must have +been the comfort she needed, this touch of a man who was every inch a +man, because the sobs at once grew quiet; and, in full control of her +nerves, she arose, saying urgently:</p> + +<p>"Quick! He's on the trench bridge!"</p> + +<p>As in a dream, the great Bonsecours sprang out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p>Jeb dashed blindly ahead, indifferent to shells and death, not caring +where he went so that it was toward the thick of battle. He wanted to be +killed; he wanted to die as Hastings died, showing the world how real +men are capable of making the last big sacrifice. But his torturing +conscience laughed at the presumption, for Hastings had typified a +faultless courage; and his brain ceaselessly echoed the scorn which +Marian had hurled at him, spurring him as rowels of hot steel to greater +speed.</p> + +<p>The smoke, as a heavy fog, shrouded the uncontested No Man's Land, being +quite impenetrable beyond a radius of fifty yards. It was as though he +were running constantly beneath a low, flattened dome which kept +accurate pace with him, through the sides of whose inverted rim new +objects sprang into view with almost magic suddenness. Yet he saw little +of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>thing beyond a girl's look of horror, heard nothing but her +outraged words. Scarcely knowing it he hurdled prostrate figures, +stumbled into craters, tripped on vagrant ends of wire entanglements, +till at last, through sheer exhaustion, he fell face down amidst a small +group of the dead.</p> + +<p>His maddened race had taken him close to the scene of battle; indeed, he +had crossed the old first and second German trenches without observing +them, so completely demolished had they been by the French <i>barrage</i>. +The fighting was yet somewhere beyond, although not waged with anything +like the intensity of an hour ago. The artillery had almost entirely +ceased, and the lesser rattle of machine-guns was diminishing. Yet he +listened, trying to locate the thickest part of it, intending to push +there as soon as he regained his breath; but always just above the +noises came Marian's burning words, and for awhile he lay with tightly +closed eyes, letting them beat upon him as blows.</p> + +<p>Gradually, as his breathing grew more normal, other words mingled with +hers in a kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> of verbal potpourri—jumbled and unmeaning, yet soon +getting clear of the confusion and sounding in his ears like a clarion +voice:</p> + +<p>"When man calls on the highest expression of his will, he becomes +indomitable; he succeeds in the highest terms of success—and thus will +you succeed, <i>mon pauvre enfant</i>!"</p> + +<p>He thought this over with a sense of comfort. It <i>would</i> feel good to +become indomitable, to succeed in the highest terms of success! Had he +ever stopped, and with solemn deliberation called upon the highest +expression of his will? He tried to remember. Surely he had given no +thought to will power when tossed into the ocean from the sinking +ship—nor at any time since coming to this battle front! Each day, from +the historic Sixth of April even unto the present minute, he unsparingly +admitted, had been spent by him amidst concocted fears and magnified +dangers; but never once had he buried his teeth in a single manly +purpose, as Tim might have expressed it. This brought Tim to mind, and +the many sane things he had said aboard ship. Then another voice, +enriched not alone by affection but by the pride of age as it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> had +spoken 'way back yonder in the Hillsdale <i>Eagle</i> office:</p> + +<p>"I want to be proud of you," it now said calmly. "You're going out to +play a mighty big game, boy, wherein Humanity is trumps, and Patriotism, +Righteousness and Service are the other three aces. Yet, even if you +hold all these, you may still lose unless you possess one more magic +card: Self-respect! We all owe to our soul a certain measure of +self-respect, Jeb. It is a gentleman's personal debt of honor to +himself, demanding payment before every other obligation, and is +satisfied only when we face each of life's crises with steel-tipped, +crystal courage!"</p> + +<p>Jeb rolled despairingly over on his back, gripping his hands and +whispering:</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, give me that steel-tipped, crystal courage!"</p> + +<p>The sun had set, and with its decline the battlefield grew peculiarly +still. A barely perceptible current of air was stirring, and he watched +the low canopy of smoke slowly drifting; feeling very small amidst the +dead and desolation as he fancied that it might be a si<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>lent, winged +army of souls gliding eastward to a new dawn.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he wondered about the battle—what had become of it! Except for +desultory cannonading far to the left, perfect quiet, almost peace, +reigned over the darkening ground. In the region where he lay, human +passions seemed to have burned into ashes as cold and lifeless as the +six or eight calm bodies near to him. He knew the Allies were silently +consolidating their gains while, beyond, the Germans strengthened +positions for another resistance; the armies of construction were +creating what armies of destruction would furiously undo. So uncannily +silent had the immediate world become that now, for the first time, he +noticed a singing in his ears, caused by twelve hours of hellish +concussions—and then, coming more completely to himself, he discovered +that for the first time in many days he was hungry.</p> + +<p>Jeb sat up and seriously took stock of himself. He had come here to die, +but was beginning to resent the very thought of it; he had run to get +away from—what? Disgrace and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> mortification? Why continue to suffer +these if a means were at hand to wipe them off the slate? For what +purpose should he be disgraced and mortified if, henceforth, he played a +man's part! Near his feet was a dead soldier whose face happened to be +turned directly toward him, and through the gathering twilight Jeb saw +that the eyes were open, steadily fixed upon him as if waiting to see +what he would decide. But this ghastly picture brought him no feeling of +revulsion as it might have, earlier; instead, he gazed back for quite a +minute, seeming to discover in the dead eyes an expression of reproach +so poignant that he finally whispered:</p> + +<p>"I don't blame you, old fellow; I haven't done the right thing, at all."</p> + +<p>From this he turned to the others about him, and with a new vision saw +them in the places they had occupied at home: father, husband, brother, +son! His mind leapt the span of miles and looked in upon the anxious +faces—hopeful, perhaps—of mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, who +waited; and a new kinship sprang up within him for those stricken +families of France!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, the crucifixion of waiting!" he murmured, his eyes again caressing +the prostrate forms. For he seemed to be living among men, not dead but +yet unborn; helpless, silent, sleeping things whose souls alone were +quick—alive somewhere in a wonderful twilight land of peace! Why pity +these deserted temples of spirit-heroes! "And to think," he whispered +softly, "that you fellows have learned to die! How did it feel? A little +gasp?—some dizziness?—surprise, perhaps?—and then God's great +entwining arms?"</p> + +<p>But the dead eyes staring at him seemed to answer:</p> + +<p>"Not until you face it like a soldier of Humanity! Not until you strike +a manly blow for the little nations which were ravaged; the women, +children, helpless men, ground in the mailed fist of a lying tyrant! God +entwines those within His arms who fight for right, not run from it!"</p> + +<p>Jeb sprang up, alive to action. Death, then, was but an ephemeral part +of this big game; he was fighting not only for today, but for the +future; fighting for the peace and righteous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>ness of years to come, +long, long after he, in any case, would have been dead! He turned +impulsively to the staring eyes, and whispered: "Thanks, old +fellow!"—then started toward the new French lines.</p> + +<p>Night had fallen, and the world about him was dark except when bathed +with the light of star shells, intermittently fired from the opposing +armies. Yet he realized that these balls of blinding whiteness must be +quite a distance away, since their calcium glare but vaguely penetrated +the canopy of smoke, touching the wreckage and the dead with ghost-like +iridescence and making them appear almost as unreal as real. He could +not even tell from what point these shells were fired, as no spot-lights +showed—merely their effect which diffused the smoke alike on all sides.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, somewhere behind him, came a sharp rattle of machine-gun fire. +He dropped to the ground, listening; wondering in a panic how this fight +could have started so far back when he had not even come in touch with +the rear French lines. In five minutes all was still again. Either the +scrimmage hinged on a false<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> alarm, or a rush had been made for the +possession of some slight point, or—but why guess! Anyhow, it had been +short; but, as a barking dog when the night is still will awaken other +dogs far across the country-side, so did this brief fusillade draw +intermittent firing from many points in more distant places.</p> + +<p>Instead of helping Jeb determine his position, these but added to his +confusion. Directions of the compass might be anywhere; he was +unquestionably lost, with the best of chances for walking into an enemy +outpost and being taken prisoner—and he had heard enough of Germany's +treatment of prisoners to prefer death rather than capture.</p> + +<p>Several star shells must now have been fired from flare pistols +somewhere, because objects about him took shape, and he dropped flat, +simulating death, not knowing how many eyes were on the watch for +movements. When darkness came again his sense of location had not been +helped.</p> + +<p>Crouching, sometimes crawling on his stomach, but going forward ever +more cautiously, he was driven cold with terror when, within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> thirty +feet of him, out of the very air about him, came low, guttural sounds of +talking. The words were German.</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to dash wildly through the smoke and escape, but +even as his muscles grew taut to make the spring a voice commanded him +to halt. It was not an outside voice this time, but one within; and, +although trembling, he froze closer to the ground, obeying instantly. +Then the sound of a spade thrust into soil, raised and emptied, told of +digging. Digging what? Graves? No, the German army, that great Imperial +Machine, was being pounded too hard to bother with its dead! The German +God could look after them—or the Allies!</p> + +<p>Not knowing how to cope with this new situation he began cautiously to +crawl away, feeling for a corpse to hide behind should another lot of +stars go up and expose him there; yet when his fingers touched a cold, +bearded face he nearly cried aloud. A sudden loathing for this inanimate +thing almost sent him running;—the next second, answering a silent +command, he stretched beside it as though he and it were bunkies in a +cantonment. But his heart was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> beating unmercifully, confusing his ears +which strained for every sound. Regularly the spades and picks continued +their work; minute dragged into minute, till another iridescence pierced +the smoke. He then peeped out. To his surprise there was but one man in +sight; a solitary sentinel standing above an excavation—Jeb could not +tell how deep.</p> + +<p>When darkness again fell he was more than ever confused. Whether these +men were inside their own lines laying mines for an expected advance, or +by some cunning had got behind the Allies for a devilish purpose, taxed +his ingenuity to decide. At any rate, this was no place for him; no +ingenuity was required to determine that. He felt that somewhere to the +right the French must be, but it was a guess based largely upon hope. +Right or wrong, an effort must be made at once to report this digging +party, and slowly he crept off; prone at first, then arising to his +hands and knees.</p> + +<p>In this way he must have gone a thousand yards when the terrain began +sharply to ascend, and more than ever puzzled he stopped again, +listening. Only the far off, spasmodic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> growling of the "heavies" told +that fifteen miles away someone was being unmercifully plastered; but +the nearer artillery slept. With eyes and ears straining to their +utmost, with muscles held ready to relax and let him flatten out at the +first sign of enemies, he continued up this new and very dangerous +slope, possessing no idea where it would lead, knowing only that he must +reach his own lines before dawn. And now he realized that the air was +becoming more pure.</p> + +<p>Frequently after sundown in this part of France a light mist rises in +the lowlands. To-night there had been no mist, but the terrain had lent +itself to cup the hovering battle smoke, holding it in depressions as +lakes of vapor, while the higher points stood clear. Jeb was now +creeping up one of these higher points; and within half an hour his eyes +looked at the stars, his grateful nostrils breathed a pure, untainted +atmosphere. Like a snake he slid head-first into the nearest shell hole, +climbed warily back to its edge, and watched.</p> + +<p>The sky was so bejewelled, the Milky Way so white, that a luminosity +bathed the earth about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> him which, in contrast to the smoky lowland, +seemed almost bright. Before him lay what had once been the little +hamlet on the scarp—he recognized it, remembering how the French +<i>barrage</i> had in mercy been lifted over it. But it had not escaped a +severe pounding. A few sections of torn walls, a few chimneys, here and +there a gable still supporting one end of a caved-in roof, made a +skyline that was saggy, unreal and awe-inspiring. No life was anywhere +apparent. Crumbled on its solitary hill, overlooking a white-and-brown +streaked sea of smoke that lapped its feet, it typified the most acute +expression of desolation.</p> + +<p>Having taken his bearings on the North Star and become assured of which +way lay the French and British rear, he was leaving the crater when a +sound made him draw back again in haste, a muffled sound of iron +striking stone.</p> + +<p>The old fear bit into him with all its terrors. He was getting weak from +hunger, anyway, and his nerves had been through more than ordinary +nerves could stand; yet, since the sounds came from somewhere in the +ruins they might well mean a villager trying to dig himself out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> 'Twas +a heartening thought, and Jeb was on the point of creeping forward when +a sentry appeared around a pyramid of fallen stones—a tremendous +fellow, wearing the Boche uniform. A moment later eight Germans came +toward him, picking their way over piles of rubble and carrying spidery +things he recognized as machine-guns. Crouching low beneath the crater's +side he waited breathlessly, while they passed so near that he could +smell their sweaty clothing. After several minutes he peeped out; the +sentry and they had disappeared. Without doubt this was a night party +fortifying the ruined hamlet on the scarp; but, if that were so, where +in the name of God, he asked himself, could the Allied army be!</p> + +<p>Objects were now growing more distinct, and for an instant he was driven +cold with terror believing this to be the sign of dawn; but a silvery +glow in the eastern sky proclaimed a rising moon. In imminent danger of +discovery when this should become still brighter he dared not remain in +the shell hole. On the other hand, fear had him pinioned with such long +claws that he hardly dared to move at all; and had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> one German, wounded +and defenseless, come upon him then demanding his surrender he could not +have raised a finger in defense. He merely wanted safety now; a place to +hide—he cared not for how long. His ears had closed to the stern +demands of will power; the words of Mr. Strong, and Bonsecours, and even +Marian, had lost their potency. An appeal more powerful than all of +these was needed to raise him to the place of man!</p> + +<p>Ahead, almost at his hands, were scattered bricks and clay chunks of +blasted buildings; but twenty feet beyond stood a section of upright +wall, supported beneath by twisted doorway timbers and propped by the +wreckage of a roof which, at one side, reached the ground. It was a +forbidding place, seeming on the point of tottering over, although this +very danger might grant it immunity from German searchers.</p> + +<p>Making himself as flat as possible he wriggled forward, listened a +moment at the threshold, then crept inside and crawled to the farthest, +darkest corner. The next instant his blood was congealed by a piercing +scream not three feet from his face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p>Out of the darkness, right into his face, this scream came, ending in a +weak, despairing, but above all else heartrending, moan; then everything +grew still. Jeb could have neither moved nor uttered a cry; he had +recoiled in terror, crouching as a part of the fallen masonry that +littered the floor.</p> + +<p>Almost at once quick steps resounded through the ruined streets, +scrambling over heaps of wreckage and coming nearer until they passed +with a kind of ruthless determination just outside the tottering wall. +In another moment they had turned an angle and the sentry, silhouetted +against the lighter sky, stood peering through the doorway. He barked +something in German that had an ominous sound, and the nearby voice +began an hysterical whimpering, interspersed with pleading in rapidly +spoken French which Jeb partially understood. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> least, he realized a +girl was in this dark place with him, and that she was promising to make +no further outcry. Weak and thin her voice seemed, though rasping in a +kind of frenzy, as she attempted to excuse a former disobedience by +trying to explain how someone had come and frightened her. Luckily for +Jeb the man gruffly interrupted with another flow of German, or his fate +might then and there have been sealed.</p> + +<p>"Please—please," the girl moaned, "oh, please don't come in! I won't +cry again!"</p> + +<p>He hesitated, as if considering; then growled a threat and turned back.</p> + +<p>Waiting until he had quite gone and the last sound of his boots upon the +rubble had died away, Jeb summoned his French and cautiously whispered:</p> + +<p>"I'm your friend—don't make a noise!"</p> + +<p>A slight movement in the corner first answered him, then a wee voice +asked:</p> + +<p>"Is Monsieur English?"</p> + +<p>"No, American."</p> + +<p>The sound which followed this lingered in his ears long afterward. It +was scarcely a gasp, nor moan, nor groan, but an inarticulate ani<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>mal +sound expressive of what the body feels when snatched in the nick of +time from destruction. A moment later she had crawled through the +darkness; her hands passed quickly over his sleeve, his shoulder, then +found his neck and clasped it passionately.</p> + +<p>Drawing her gently to his lap he realized that she was merely a child +who had come to him—a skeleton child, of perhaps eight or nine years +old, seeming to be little more than bones dressed in scanty clothing. +Touching his lips to her cheeks he whispered encouragement, promising +prodigious things without regard to their possible accomplishment, until +her body ceased to quiver. Then she whispered tremulously:</p> + +<p>"Are you the American who fed us?"</p> + +<p>"No, little one, I haven't fed you." He, too, spoke in the merest +whisper.</p> + +<p>"But yes, Monsieur, indeed you did! <i>Le bon curé</i> said the American gave +us food for many, many months. Oh, I wish I had some now!"</p> + +<p>"He meant the American Relief, little one. Haven't you any food now?"</p> + +<p>"Not since two days, Monsieur. The Boche," he felt her quiver again as +she pronounced this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> name, "used to take our American food and give us +their own black kind; but the curé told us to submit gracefully, as +those who had tried to object were killed. But two days ago a German, a +Kommandantur, they called him, Monsieur, said that he felt so very, very +sorry for us he thought we had better starve; and since then we have had +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Where is the curé now?" he asked, feeling himself grow hot with rage.</p> + +<p>"Dead, Monsieur. They killed him for trying to defend his bell."</p> + +<p>"Defend his bell?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so, Monsieur." She snuggled into a more comfortable position, as +though the presence of this American removed all dangers; she found it +good, furthermore, to talk to someone, even in whispers, and amidst +ruins, and about the horrors buried there. "Before blowing up the Marie +they lowered the bell—for everything iron in the village they said must +be sent into Germany. But the curé loved his bell—so did we all, +Monsieur—and he threw his arms about it, pleading. But this made the +soldiers laugh very much." She waited an instant, as though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> listening, +then continued: "So they got a blanket, Monsieur, and tossed him into +the air, but always let him fall upon the stones. He was very old, was +<i>le bon curé</i>,—but so good! Then officers came up, and they carried +open bottles of wine, and around their necks were strung on cords many +women's finger rings and bracelets. My mother uttered a prayer, because +she thought they would help <i>le bon curé</i>, but when they were told he +had tried to protect his bell, they jumped over and over him, Monsieur, +pretending to prance like horses, and kept sticking him with their spurs +until his poor face was cut and swollen. We cried out for shame, but he +held up the Crucifix toward us and gently shook his head—so we turned +away weeping. But they let us bury him, Monsieur," she added, tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Where are your parents?" Jeb asked, shuddering not alone at the tale of +barbarity, but because this young child had become so inured to these +sights that she could passively recite them.</p> + +<p>"Dead, Monsieur," she answered, in a tone that might itself have been +dead. "Quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> dead," she added, dispiritedly. "My father was summoned +with many others to Avricourt. When they came back the Germans marched +him past our house tied to the tail of one of their horses, but would +not let us speak to him; yet he turned his face so we could see a blue +cross marked upon his cheek, and then my mother fainted—she was not +well, Monsieur. That night they shot him."</p> + +<p>Her poor little body was beginning to shake, but he drew her closer with +soothing words, while his heart was wrung by pity. For the moment he +forgot what had been uppermost in his mind: to discover through her if +this place lay within the German lines and how far were the Allies. She +took courage from his endearments and continued, although in the same +lifeless whisper:</p> + +<p>"The next day they marched my mother and other women away, Monsieur. I +ran after her but was thrust back; yet she called telling me to hide the +children in the cellar."</p> + +<p>"Then your mother may not be dead," he suggested hopefully.</p> + +<p>"But yes, Monsieur. I watched them for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> great way along the +road—there are no trees now, and I could see. Several times she fell; +the last time a soldier raised his gun twice, and twice brought it down. +Oh, I wanted to help her then, but they laughed and held me!"</p> + +<p>Jeb was growing beside himself at these unheard-of barbarities, but he +managed to ask gently:</p> + +<p>"Why are you not in the cellar now?—listen!"</p> + +<p>The sound of iron striking stone again reached him. She understood, and +answered quietly:</p> + +<p>"It is where they dig, Monsieur. They have been doing it since sundown; +and it was their coming and going through the cellars that made me bring +the children here, in fear of them."</p> + +<p>"But where are the children?" he asked, for no sound had come from the +corner she had left.</p> + +<p>"There are three, Monsieur, in the dark behind me. Two live, but they do +not know me any more. They are so young," she said apologetically, "that +the things they have seen quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> put out their minds—but they obey me, +very nicely."</p> + +<p>"Merciful God," he gasped.</p> + +<p>"The other," her voice resumed its tone of dull despair, "was killed but +a little while ago by the man who looked in. Monsieur, we were very +hungry and frightened, and she was crying; but I tried—oh, how I +tried—to comfort her! Then in anger he came, and—and stuck her with +the long knife on his gun. Oh, Monsieur," she whispered, clinging to him +in a new terror, "I was glad for the darkness!"</p> + +<p>A sob, arising from the very depths of Jeb's soul, burst from his lips. +Scalding tears of rage and anguish streamed down his cheeks; and these +must have touched her upturned face, for she raised a thin hand and +patted him, whispering:</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, Monsieur, to weep for her."</p> + +<p>"My poor little child," he moaned, "my poor little child! Oh, what a +plight they've left you in!—with only the dead, and worse than dead!"</p> + +<p>The moon had cleared by now, bathing the ruined hamlet with a silvery +sheen, although<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> the place which sheltered them remained in darkness. +But through a rift in the broken wall stole one narrow beam of light, +and he moved slightly to let this fall upon her face—then just in time +caught himself, else he would have given a cry of pain and fury.</p> + +<p>Her eyes, horrified and shadowed by the cruelties she had witnessed, +were turned to him; great, dark, hollow eyes which seemed to be looking +directly through him to some confusion of thoughts beyond. Her face was +pinched and blue with lack of nourishment, the skin stretched tightly +over cheek bones which seemed about to push through; her lips were +wax-like, dry and cracked, and her ears were almost transparent. But +even more appalling than any of these was the utter despair, the absence +of hope or desire of life, that had changed the bloom of youth to the +decay of age. She might have been the wan ghost of a shrivelled old +woman lying in his arms, instead of young flesh and blood!</p> + +<p>This martyred child, who should be sleeping happily amidst dreams of +dolls and play—what was the ghastly thing into which she had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +made? The father, who with horse and plowshare should be summoned by the +morning cock to yielding fields—where was that servant of the vineyard? +The mother, who should be planning for the harvest which her capable +hands would convert into winter comforts—what of her? A wee tot, whose +sobbing should have been stilled by tender arms—did she understand the +caress of steel? And the other two, whose minds had been snapped by +horrors and privations—did their locked-in souls realize these things +to be the result of military necessity?—or a nation's degeneracy!</p> + +<p>Yet what could he expect from a people whose idol in philosophy, their +pampered Nietschke, teaches and writes: "Morality is a symptom of +decadence! There is no right other than that of theft, usurpation and +violence!" It is in his book for all to read! What hope of an army, or +hope of mercy from it, whose Kaiser confesses himself to be a liar or a +lunatic by proclaiming: "The spirit of God has descended upon Me because +I am the German Emperor! I am the instrument of the Most High. I am His +sword, His representative on earth. Woe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> and death to those who oppose +My will! Death to the infidel who denies My mission! Let all the enemies +of the German nation perish. God demands their destruction—God, who by +My mouth summons you to carry out His decrees!"<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + + +<p>As Jeb recalled these utterances, their blasphemy made him cringe. He +wrapped the little broken body tighter in his arms. Was she, then, what +she was by a loving God's decree? He kissed her hair and groaned in +righteous anger. Did that Outcast Emperor dare call himself the +representative of God on earth, and thereupon urge his menials to do +evil for the sake of evil, destroy for destruction's sake, pillage for +the bestial love of it, outrage the life, honor and liberty of the +helpless, leaving a wide trail that everywhere led to the most loathsome +crimes?—did "the spirit of God descend upon" this vampire, and call him +"chosen"?</p> + +<p>Jeb found himself trembling in every muscle as a deep rage at these +blasphemies spread throughout his frame. As tropic storms strike<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +languid forests, swaying, threshing, rending trees this way and that, so +a mighty rush of fury swept him. Slowly at first, then faster, the +almost forgotten taper flame of manliness that flickered on the altar of +his inmost being leaped higher, until it blazed as a consuming fire. The +eyes of his soul were open; the strength of his soul grasped the sword +of Humanity to strike for this child, and the thousands like her, whose +injury was irreparable, who had been blasted, damned, by the ego-mania +of accursed hypocrites!</p> + +<p>"Oh, little one," he whispered to her fiercely, "if all the boys back +home could see the things you've shown me, they'd break their necks +getting over here to smash that upstart German power!"</p> + +<p>For a moment he bowed his head, as though in prayer. The far-off +rumbling of cannon, sublimely rising from the distant horizon, might +have been a deep-toned organ sending its hymn of victory through the +vaulted space; and, while he listened, the little hand was raised again +to touch his cheek, as the weak voice murmured:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, I feel better since you came."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must get you away," he kissed her quickly. "Now listen well, and +answer well, for everything depends on what you know!"</p> + +<p>The indomitable spirit of France which kept these people alive through +hardships and outrages that will never be written, bounded through her +veins and warmed them. He felt her body snuggle more confidingly, as if +to assure him that he would not be disappointed in her share of this new +partnership.</p> + +<p>After careful questioning he learned enough to open his eyes. The French +lines had indeed passed northward, leaving this ruined hamlet in its +wake. But for several months prior to yesterday's engagement the Germans +had been working on gigantic subterranean operations, beginning at the +levels of the cellar floors and penetrating downward until the entire +village sub-area had been converted into a kind of catacomb. Here a +great number of machine-guns were stored with quantities of ammunition, +and a garrison put in charge which numbered upwards of two thousand men. +A machine-gun regiment, he mentally noted. These had fought when the +French came but, instead of retreat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>ing, ducked into the sub-cellars and +closed the openings which had been artfully contrived to escape notice. +When the French passed, thinking the enemy had been driven before them, +the Boche quietly emerged after nightfall and slipped away in several +directions, taking many guns and spades and boxes of ammunition.</p> + +<p>Jeb felt that he now understood the mystery of that digging party back +on the plain, as also the nearer sounds. They were units of this +garrison—and there must be many others like them scattered +about—fortifying for a particular counter attack tomorrow when, with a +line of machine-gun sections operating in the Allied rear, defeat might +be turned to victory. It was an audacious scheme, thus to burrow while a +victorious army passed over them, and then come up out of the ground and +strike again!</p> + +<p>"How far is it to the place they're digging here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Just there, beyond this wall—but a little ways," she pointed in the +direction from which the sentry had come.</p> + +<p>"How many are there?"</p> + +<p>"I could not say, Monsieur; but few, assur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>edly, as I saw quite as many +as I thought were in the ground, and more, slip away after dark with the +guns and spades and boxes."</p> + +<p>"Then wait very quietly till I come back," he lifted her from his lap, +but she clung desperately and would have cried had he not promised to +return safely.</p> + +<p>She let him go then and he crawled away, passing just outside the door +to see if the street were clear. Skirting the torn walls and keeping in +the heavier shadows, creeping over piles of rubble as silently as a rat, +he came at last to a point which overlooked the hole where men toiled, +wearily, though in desperate haste. The sentry paced back and forth +within a hundred feet of him, sometimes speaking in monosyllables to his +comrades below.</p> + +<p>At highest tension Jeb waited, until he felt not only sure of their +strength but reasonably certain that no others remained in the lower +strata of catacombs; because they rested at frequent intervals, implying +a state of exhaustion, and this, in turn, indicated an absence of relief +shifts. Fifteen men in all were there, besides the sentry. On the street +level their rifles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> had been stacked. The hole—a machine-gun +redoubt—in which they dug was about five feet deep; the sides were +steep; the only weapons near at hand were picks and spades.</p> + +<p>Tingling with excitement, he stole carefully back to the ruined door and +entered, bringing with him a stout club picked from the débris. The +girl's arms flew about him at once, and the wan voice whispered +tremulously:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Monsieur, if you had not come!"</p> + +<p>"But I did come," he took her again upon his lap, seeming in a much +better humor than when he had gone out. "We're about to get away, little +one; are you big enough to do just what I say?"</p> + +<p>There was a look of reproach in her eyes which he could not, of course, +have seen, but he felt her arms tighten.</p> + +<p>"Everything," she whispered. "Can Monsieur carry the little sisters?"</p> + +<p>"Monsieur can, but he isn't going to," he muttered fiercely. "They'll +have two-legged horses to ride, and so will you. Now, I'm going over by +the door, and when I get there I want you to give a loud cry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Monsieur," she trembled, "he will come and—and——"</p> + +<p>"I want him to come, but he won't do any more than that. We're going to +take those men and punish them for a lot of things they've done."</p> + +<p>"Capture them, Monsieur?—by Monsieur's own self?"</p> + +<p>"By Monsieur's own self," he gave her a squeeze, then sat her back upon +the ground. "Now, when I get close to the door, cry!—then you may close +your eyes until I say look; but don't cry again, whatever happens."</p> + +<p>Picking up the club he took a position in the deepest shadow and waited. +Spartan little soldier that she was, she now sent a wail into the night +that would have brought a dozen sentries; then, as before, everything +was silent. Also, as before, hurried, angry steps soon were heard; yet +this time, as the sentry passed close outside the rear wall, he talked. +Jeb at first thought that it might be the mumbling of an enraged man, +but he took a tighter grip upon his club when another voice laughed a +reply.</p> + +<p>The two Germans turned the angle of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> side wall, stumbling over loose +stones and uttering words that scarcely needed translation. A patch of +moonlight fell athwart the sill, and Jeb watched this, knowing it would +tell better than his ears when the crucial time had come. The men were +just outside now, and the breathing of one became audible—a workman, +doubtless, following to see what would happen. Then a shadow fell across +the spot of light, and slowly a bayonet glided within two feet of Jeb's +face—the bayonet that might yet be warm from having dried a child's +tears! After it came the sentry, stooping as he entered, while his +companion, who chortled with a kind of insane glee, pressed closely at +his heels.</p> + +<p>Jeb had been standing in deep shadow to one side, with the club drawn +back. He waited until both men were well within the door, then made a +vicious swing, and then another; there were two sharp cracks of wood on +bone, and the two who had come to kill lay dead.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he whispered through the darkness. "Bring the +children, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Thank God, Monsieur," her voice reached him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>Kneeling, he stripped the sentry of ammunition, examined the rifle until +he had mastered its mechanism, and saw that it was loaded and ready. +When the children reached him—the two smaller ones staring vacantly +ahead as if walking in their sleep—he whispered:</p> + +<p>"Now, do just as I say: follow closely, keep in the shadows and make no +noise. When I put back my hand, stop and wait; when I call, come at +once. Is that clear, little one?"</p> + +<p>"But, oh, Monsieur," she panted, "should we not run now?"</p> + +<p>"We couldn't make it, for one thing," he answered slowly, "and, besides, +I—I don't think I'll ever run again, little one," he stooped and kissed +her—although she did not understand. "Ready? Come along!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p>He felt the call now of three great forces: America, Humanity, and his +soul—but the greatest of these was Humanity! Each held him by a new, a +strong appeal; each looked confidently to the best there was in him, +wrapped him in entreating arms that struggled to inspire the highest +type of courage.</p> + +<p>Carefully the little refugees followed him out into the calm moonlight, +the tots whose minds had gone back to shadowland acting as automatons +under the silent direction of their sister. He stopped once, as though +with indecision, and looked at them; then set his teeth fast and again +went on. Hugging the snagged walls, crossing open places on hands and +knees, they came finally to the spot Jeb had previously selected for +them to wait, while he crept ahead to reach the pyramids of stacked +rifles before letting his presence be known.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>He could distinctly hear the sounds of digging now, but there was no +exchange of words—doubtless the stilled sentry had been the only +loquacious spirit among them. This presence of human beings laboring in +silence at dead of night made his task decidedly ticklish, and minutes +passed before he gained a position behind the last pile of rubble, +overlooking the hole.</p> + +<p>Besides the fourteen Germans he had expected to see below, he now made +out one other, an officer, who, doubtless because he sat well beneath +the opposite wall, had escaped observation during the first +reconnaissance. This brought the total to fifteen—three clips of +cartridges and no misses, he told himself, if it came to a fight. The +men toiled surlily, as though that beaver-like industry, everywhere +displayed by the German army in fatigue work, had about reached the +quitting point. It was, moreover, possible that they sulked for having +been detailed to a duty which meant almost certain death.</p> + +<p>Jeb did not know how to challenge them, but a pointed rifle and a stern +command in any language is never difficult of translation between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +soldiers of opposing armies. He saw now that six of them were laboring +with a large stone, and there could be no more favorable time for him to +act. With a bound he reached the edge.</p> + +<p>"Hands up!" he barked.</p> + +<p>The fifteen faces turned to him were blank with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Hands up!" he repeated.</p> + +<p>The officer, first to recover, made a quick reach for his pistol, and +Jeb dropped him in his tracks. This shot, and its effect, broke the +spell. Spades and picks were thrown aside, the stone fell with a crash, +and the men, thoroughly cowered, raised their hands, calling: "Kamerad! +Kamerad!"—the same old cry that has rung from Verdun to the sea, +although Jeb was hearing it for the first time.</p> + +<p>By gesture he commanded them to climb out, one at a time, and in single +file to march farther away from the rifles, since at some personal cost +they might have yet attempted a rush and overpowered him. But there was +no rush in these exhausted men, and, except for a few who showed signs +of relief, they took the situation with stolid gravity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>In a hundred yards he halted them and called the child, who came bravely +out of hiding with the remnants of her family; but, confronted by the +grimly uniformed line, she drew back screaming.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, little one," Jeb called reassuringly. "These are your +horses; come quickly, hop up and ride!"</p> + +<p>One of the prisoners, understanding French, began to laugh as he +translated this to his comrades, but Jeb peremptorily stopped all +conversation. To let these fellows get an inch beyond the strictest +discipline was to invite disaster. Yet now he could give orders through +this interpreter, and soon the column was marching silently southward, +its first three men each bearing on his shoulders a wan little victim +from the "empire of death." The others followed obediently enough, while +Jeb, in a position to enfilade the column—thus maintaining a command of +each file—brought up the rear. From his attitude and voice the captives +seemed to know that he was on a very dangerous tension, and that the +slightest hesitation on their part would mean instant death. They had no +desire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> to test his skill further than that one snap shot through their +officer's brain.</p> + +<p>His first concern was to drive straight southward and get clear of the +machine-gun redoubts, which he felt sure were being extended westward; +and as the success of this plan hinged largely upon absolute silence, he +had promised fourteen inches of bayonet to the first man who spoke, +coughed, sneezed, or stubbed his toe. Moreover, he was recklessly +prepared to execute this threat without a second's hesitation, fully +realizing that if he would hold supremacy against such overpowering odds +he must let his words and acts mesh with the nicety of machine gears, or +his authority would vanish.</p> + +<p>From time to time, when the burden of this responsibility began to wear +down his courage, and fear came creeping in at the sheer audacity of +this undertaking, he would raise his eyes to the three little tots +ahead—and feel every nerve grow steady. As a consequence, the men were +thoroughly in hand, stepping with caution and showing every disposition +to carry out his orders.</p> + +<p>In this way they covered perhaps a mile,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> reaching a ground of +comparative safety where their silence might have relaxed without +bringing about disaster. But Jeb would take no chance, and forced the +column to proceed with the same scrupulous care. As he was skirting a +group of the dead, that looked frightfully grotesque in the pale +moonlight, a voice almost at his back sent terror to his soul—then joy.</p> + +<p>"Well, w'ot d'ye know about thot!" it said guardedly.</p> + +<p>"Tim!" he cried, instantly calling a halt. There could be no mistaking +that voice, were it heard anywhere on earth. "Tim, where are you?"</p> + +<p>"If it ain't Jeb, may I be shot for a spy! B'ys, deliverance is come!" +And the sergeant raised himself to a sitting position, while several +forms about him also began to stir.</p> + +<p>"You blessed Irishman," said Jeb, delightedly, "if I could take my eyes +off this bunch, darned if I wouldn't kiss you!"</p> + +<p>"Ye've brought better'n a kiss, lad—but ye can do thot yit, mind ye, if +I see inither sun!"</p> + +<p>"Are you too badly hurt to be carried in?"</p> + +<p>"Thot's a divil av a question, now! Sure,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> me an' the b'ys is too +continted to move for annything, lest 'tis a pitcher av ice-water——" +his voice seemed to crack at the mention of this.</p> + +<p>Through the interpreter Jeb ordered a man to lift him; and as a big +fellow stepped forward, Tim chuckled:</p> + +<p>"If this don't beat the Dutch, may I be shot—ow! me leg! Here, ye +butcher, don't ye know better'n to handle a mon like a trunk! Kneel, ye +spalpeen, whilst I straddle the neck av ye!"</p> + +<p>When the German arose with Tim firmly astride his shoulders Jeb sent out +another prisoner, then another, until nine wounded were prepared for +transport rearward.</p> + +<p>"You're sure there aren't any more, Tim?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' I wisht there was, lad," the sergeant answered soberly. +"Pass me up me rifle, like a good b'y, forinst we start! I see be the +black-and-gold button on me ar-rmy mule thot he's a Landstrumer, an' +they's tricky b'ys, at times!"</p> + +<p>There was a cheer so spontaneous about this Irishman, whose very genius +for happiness had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> lightened many a heavy burden, that his mount began +to shake with laughter; whereupon Tim, in spite of a wound that pained +grievously, grinned down at him.</p> + +<p>"Laugh away, ye fat-headed Fritz," he said. "But don't go tryin' to buck +me off, or 'tis Tim Doreen'll crack yer periscope—bein' as he's settin' +on it! Jeb, ye've two spare ar-rmy mules—let thim bring in all the +rifles, like a good lad!"</p> + +<p>They had gone but a little way when Tim caught the German by the ear, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Gee-haw, ye beggarly Boche! Turn 'round, an' take me to the boss av +this job!"—but, as the prisoner did no more than flinch, he called +back: "Jeb, order this outcast to halt, whilst ye come up to us!"</p> + +<p>When this had been accomplished through the interpreter, and the two +friends were moving side by side, the sergeant asked:</p> + +<p>"D'ye think there's no fear av this divil understandin' God's language? +Thin, I've a mind to ask w'ot's come over ye, lad—but ye mustn't be +takin' it amiss! Ye know thot whin I saw ye last, ye wasn't w'ot I'd +call love-sick for a scrap!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tim," he answered, in an awed voice, "it was the sight of those +children!"</p> + +<p>"The childer, ye say! Thim w'ot's forinst us?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They did it! God, but they were a terrible sight to see—it sort +of made me crazy!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis a Christian kind av insanity, lad," the sergeant mused. "I hope +ye'll be havin' a domn fine lot av it!"</p> + +<p>Thus, when the low-lying moon flooded the dressing-station quadrangle, +Jeb, with fourteen prisoners, nine wounded comrades and three little +citizens from the "empire of death," was challenged by lookouts of a new +regiment that had arrived during the night to occupy the old front line +trench. The next minute cheers were ringing from a thousand throats.</p> + +<p>Crossing the narrow bridge Tim, though weak from pain, yelled:</p> + +<p>"Sind a squad after us, lads, an' ye can have our mules whin they're +unloaded!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. Bonsecours had turned with a sigh of relief from the last of his +cases and stepped out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>side for a breath of air, when the sound of +cheering reached him.</p> + +<p>"There is some good news," he called to Marian, who came and stood +nearby, listening. Yet, even at that moment, his thoughts were of her, +and he turned, saying gently: "You must rest; I really insist upon it! +If you don't, I—I shall break down, myself."</p> + +<p>She looked at him searchingly, reading well the fatigue, the unutterable +strain, which marked his face, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"You're the one who needs it! Don't you realize how helpless we would be +here without you?"</p> + +<p>"And how helpless I would be without <i>you</i>?" he murmured. "Oh, my +wonderful Marian——!" He checked himself with an effort; yet, had the +moon been brighter, he would have seen the pallor in her face yield to a +flood of warm color.</p> + +<p>The tramp of men was coming nearer, men who slipped and stumbled down +the steep road, and then a group of curious figures staggered into view, +seeming in the uncertain light scarcely to be human. Turning right they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +marched heavily to the dressing-station entrance and, at Jeb's command, +halted.</p> + +<p>Bonsecours, with mouth agape, stepped back at their approach, while +Marian drew slightly closer to him. There is nothing in the French +language which exactly corresponds to our expression of amazement: +"Well, I'll be damned!" but whatever comes nearest to it is what the +great surgeon now said, like a common sapper. At the same instant the +nurse at his side gave a low cry. She was not looking at Jeb, but at the +children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p>Scarcely were the children lifted down before Marian had kneeled and +taken them in her arms. Quicker than Bonsecours she had read the story +of their destruction, and now sobbed over them as though her heart would +break. One had clasped her neck, but the other two, unable to stand, +merely stared with wide-open eyes devoid of the slightest understanding. +It was when the great French surgeon looked upon these—little tots +whose minds were shattered by cruelties purposely conceived for them, +and whose bodies were starved to skeleton thinness in order that thieves +and degenerates might grow fat—that he swore a mighty oath and buried +his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu, mon Dieu</i>," he muttered fiercely, "how many more will they +add to the thousands I have already seen!"</p> + +<p>Jeb had glanced only once at Marian, being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> afraid of the reproach her +eyes might still hold for him; but as soon as a squad trotted up to +receive the prisoners he turned away, welcoming another duty which +sternly summoned him back to the plain. For the machine-gun redoubts had +to be taken before their deadly fire could pour into those brave fellows +who had swept ahead—and this must be done before uncompromising +daylight made the work too costly! So he turned without glancing again +at Marian. Yet no decoration for a brave deed might have been more +brilliant than her look which followed him, could she have shut out the +torturing picture of his debasement at the shell hole. A quick prayer +sprang from her soul into space as she whispered fervently: "God keep +his courage stiff!" She had not thought about his body; she did not care +about his body! It was to make a soldier that she prayed.</p> + +<p>Bonsecours, having seen the look and movement of her lips, asked gently:</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?"</p> + +<p>"We grew up in the same town, back home," she answered, still gazing +after Jeb.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said. It was a gasp of pain, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> stood as though a shell +had burst and stunned him. In his headlong work between guns of opposing +armies, he had never stopped to wonder if there might be someone else in +this Nurse Marian's life; and now, stung by a possible realization of +it, his mind leaped outward to fears and fancied facts—all of which she +might have told him were groundless. Turning toward the dug-out, he said +briefly over his shoulder: "Please see to the children. My own cases are +waiting."</p> + +<p>Down into the trench Jeb had run, calling for an officer, and was soon +making his report to the Colonel, who peremptorily asked:</p> + +<p>"You can show us these positions?"</p> + +<p>"Two of them, sir; the others must occupy the same general line."</p> + +<p>Silently, but in the highest spirits, three thousand men went over the +top, deploying in open order to make their drag-net stretch to its +farthest capacity and sweep up the redoubts, whose locations, after all, +were largely a matter of conjecture.</p> + +<p>Jeb, fighting hard to hold himself steady, pressed toward the right, +where he thought the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> first digging party could be found; yet, before he +sighted it, firing broke out to his left, then farther to his left—each +time with the unmistakable fusillade of machine-guns answered by +cracking rifles. One bunch at a time, the enemy was being flushed from +cover; yet at each new outburst he gasped more and more for +air,—feeling in his soul what was coming over him, and swearing roundly +to drive it back.</p> + +<p>"We ain't going to miss anything, are we?" a cheery voice at his back +called out.</p> + +<p>"We'll find it, all right," he panted; but might have saved his breath, +for that very instant they were met by a fire which, in a light less +deceptive, would have been gruelling even to their openly deployed +skirmish line.</p> + +<p>Without awaiting commands—were there any to wait for—the men, ducking +low, dashed past him toward the pit, leaped down into it gouging their +bayonets right and left. With the sentry's rifle still in his hands he +tried to follow; but at the brink, being confronted by sounds of steel +upon steel, oaths, grunts, yells of victory and of pain, his legs +refused to move. The old fear was wrapping itself about him. But then +came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> cries of "Kamerad!"—and upon hearing these he bounded in, knowing +the place had surrendered.</p> + +<p>"The ruined hamlet next," he yelled. "There's a lot of supplies there!"</p> + +<p>The men sprang out after him, laughing now in sheer exuberance of +spirits, and throwing taunts at a few of their disgruntled mates who had +been left to watch the prisoners and spoils. But Jeb could not laugh. +His jaws were set in grim determination. He was soul-sick and furious. +He had not played fair—although his comrades were far from suspecting +it. He swore to himself over and over, on the memory of those children +whom he had saved at this place, that he would be the first to go in and +the last to come out, were it to mean death a hundred times.</p> + +<p>But the hamlet put up no resistance; it lay still and deserted, as +though some marauding monster had torn it in its teeth and passed on by. +This silence, however, did not deceive Jeb. Even through the chaos of +his brain he had a rather fair idea of how many small engagements had +taken place back on the plain, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> judged them to be far short of the +newly built redoubts; thereby conjecturing that several of the companies +must have deserted their positions and fallen in upon the more secure +catacombs. Advising the men to scatter and search the cellars, he +discovered at last a large, although artfully disguised, opening to the +subterranean area below.</p> + +<p>"Who speaks German?" he asked, of those who stood about him.</p> + +<p>"I," said one.</p> + +<p>"Then yell down and tell 'em to come out, or be blown out!"</p> + +<p>But someone below must have understood English and quickly translated, +because long cries of "Kamerad, Kamerad," floated eerily up, as if a +cover had been lifted from some pit in hell releasing the wails of +incarcerated spirits. Answering with yells of derision the troops +climbed to the street level and formed to receive prisoners; whereupon, +casting rifles aside as they gained the open, the inhabitants of this +underworld filed out.</p> + +<p>When the catacombs had been searched and quantities of munitions for the +machine-guns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> salvaged, Jeb led the way back across the now silent No +Man's Land that had passed into the pages of history. One by one the +other units were picked up, standing guard over captured positions. +Everything had been swept into the Allied pocket at an insignificant +cost.</p> + +<p>Dawn had not yet streaked the east. Except for a fitful shot somewhere +back across the plain, where an overstrained sentry fired at a shadow, +the world slept. The regiment, flushed and happy, sprang down into its +trench; and Jeb was turning glumly toward the gravelly road, when the +Colonel stepped after him.</p> + +<p>"I haven't your name," he said. "I want to send it in."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," Jeb answered, afraid to look at this commander +of men, lest even in the dim light his stricken conscience might be +revealed.</p> + +<p>"But it isn't all right," the officer smiled. "I heard what you did +earlier to-night—a rather fine thing, that!—and now you've turned +another trick, giving us eight hundred prisoners, twelve machine-gun +sections, and various stuff. You deserve a mention."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then just tell 'em," Jeb began; but he could not claim it and, blushing +guiltily, hurried off, yelling over his shoulder: "It isn't worth while, +really!"</p> + +<p>Yet there had been something else that happened out on the field which +meant a great deal more to him. It had been while they were marching +homeward, when this same officer had laid a hand upon his arm and said: +"I hope the American army which landed yesterday is made up of your +stuff!" The words did not in any sense imply doubt; merely compliment, +but Jeb inwardly cringed because the American Army had been graded, even +in ignorance, with such as he. At that instant he had made a resolve—an +earnest, solemn resolve—to join that army and, by its influence, prove +himself worthy.</p> + +<p>He now went hurriedly down into the quadrangle and turned to the dug-out +where he expected to find Bonsecours—the man who superseded Barrow in +authority. For he guessed that an ambulance would be standing farther at +the rear, waiting for the nine men whom he had brought in. When it took +them back, he determined that it would also take him to the fellows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +from home who had just landed—to a new opportunity! Perhaps it was +ready to leave at any moment, and this thought gave him greater speed.</p> + +<p>As he entered Tim, the last to receive attention, lay in a stretcher +ready to be moved. He had insisted upon being last, claiming this +preference because of the fact that he was a sergeant; and now, although +with a badly shattered leg which the surgeon had told him might later +have to go, he grinned broadly as Jeb clasped his hand. Bonsecours' +greeting also was affectionate and genuine; for, despite his fading hope +of happiness, and the memory of Jeb's face which had worn the stamp of +abject fear twenty-four hours earlier, he was too big a man to refuse +tribute to a manly deed.</p> + +<p>"Well, lad," Tim, his mouth drawn with pain, tried to laugh—tried to +"bluff it out" so Jeb would not suspect the truth, "I'm thinkin' thot +life's wan domn hole after anither! First, mind ye, 'tis the swimmin' +hole, thin the shell hole, thin a hole in me leg, an' next we know 'tis +a stay-for-keeps hole in the ground! W'ot a divil av a hole the ould +world is, after all! But me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> leg'll be all right in a fortnight, lad," +(oh, Tim, you beloved liar!) "an' thin I'll be back wid the b'ys twict +as strong as iver!"</p> + +<p>"That's mighty fine news," Jeb laughed. "But I hope to go back with you +now!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not goin' now," Tim cried angrily. "I've swore 'tis not a step I +take till I've said 'God bless ye' to thot angel nurse!"</p> + +<p>"There, there, Tim, keep quiet! Haven't I promised that you could?" +Bonsecours smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"Thin w'ot's the lad sayin' about takin' me now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I only meant when you are ready, Tim," Jeb did his part to quiet +the excited little sergeant; then, to the doctor, he added quickly: "I +want to go back with the ambulance, that's all. The Americans landed +yesterday, and——"</p> + +<p>"But," the surgeon gasped at this unusual request, "Barrow needs you!"</p> + +<p>"I guess he doesn't, so awfully much," Jeb flushed. "If you can possibly +arrange it for me, I'll be greatly obliged. I've—I've just got to get +in the ranks, Doctor! I can't explain what I mean—but it's those +children! Why, if each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> of the ten million American fellows who +registered for our New Army could see only a part of cruelties I've +seen, they'd break their necks getting over here!—and they wouldn't go +back, either, not even for Christmas, till the last of these German +High-in-Command was in prison, or dead! I'm only asking for a chance to +make good——"</p> + +<p>"Cut thot out," Tim called huskily. "It hur-rts me leg!"</p> + +<p>Bonsecours laughed but, still protesting, said:</p> + +<p>"I can't keep the ambulance waiting!"</p> + +<p>"You won't have to; I'm ready now."</p> + +<p>"But your kit——?"</p> + +<p>"Is on my back, sir."</p> + +<p>Two big orderlies came in and picked up the stretcher, whereupon Tim +grew again excited.</p> + +<p>"Put me down, ye little runts," he yelled, "afore I git up an' +smash——"</p> + +<p>"There, there," Bonsecours hastily interposed; saying to them: "Take +this brave fellow to Dug-out Three—he wants to see Nurse Marian. I'll +be right after you." But the instant they had left he turned to Jeb, +asking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> sharply: "Do you realize what your leaving means?"</p> + +<p>"I think I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"You would deliberately put upon me the responsibility of sending you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," Jeb answered, somewhat perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Then I refuse!" the surgeon snapped. "I refuse, until you bring me word +that your little nurse friend from America desires it!"</p> + +<p>Unaware of what was passing in Bonsecours' mind, Jeb stared after him in +complete amazement. He had intended, of course, to see Marian and say +good-bye to her, although it was an interview toward which he looked +with so much dread that once or twice he had thought of escaping it, and +writing her from somewhere else. Yet now he must bring some word from +her to this cranky surgeon, or he dared not leave, at all! His nerves +were rattled, and he fumbled through his pockets for the "makings"; +spilled the tobacco and threw his ineffectual effort away in disgust. +Marian was in Dug-out Three, with Tim, Bonsecours, and the +stretcher-bearers! Oh, well, he told himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> perhaps it would be +easier to have them all present!—and he went out resolutely, turning +toward the third entrance. But on the threshold his resolution failed, +and he drew back, staring.</p> + +<p>The soft light from an oil lamp made the interior look warm and +attractive, particularly because Marian was standing by the side of Tim, +smiling tenderly down at him. Across from her Bonsecours stood, also +smiling, but with a look of weariness—perhaps it was unhappiness. The +bearers were grinning, as the little sergeant now continued with what, +evidently, he had been saying:</p> + +<p>"So ye see, lass, I couldn't go Blighty till I'd whispered a 'God bless +ye' to me own, an' only, sister!"</p> + +<p>"I'd be very proud if you were my brother, Tim," she replied, +soothingly.</p> + +<p>"She'd be very proud <i>if I were</i>," he looked at Bonsecours with a broad +grin. "Now w'ot d'ye know about thot, Doctor! If <i>I were</i>, indade!—as +if I <i>wasn't</i>! Shure, an' if the same blood don't run in both our veins, +'tis not Tim Doreen as would be here now, a-tellin' av it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're perfectly right," the surgeon laughed. "I did that deed myself, +and it ought to make you her brother!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ought</i> to! Faith, an' it <i>did</i>!—iver since thot day the blessed angel +says to ye: 'Thin do yer dooty an' save 'im!', as she put out her ar-rm +for the sacrifice thot kept me here on earth!"</p> + +<p>"Please stop—both of you!" she implored.</p> + +<p>"Shure, lass, an' 'tis no harm speakin' av a noble deed. An' now," he +added, folding his hands upon his breast, and closing his eyes in mock +contentment, "'tis me last wish an' tistament to make the good Doctor +Bonsecours me brother-in-law!"</p> + +<p>"One must be in his right mind to make a last 'wish and tistament,'" +Marian tried to look at him severely; but, the next instant, she leaned +impulsively over and kissed his cheeks—then ran out the doorway.</p> + +<p>Jeb had barely time to draw back when she dashed past him and turned +toward the road leading above the dug-outs. She might readily have seen +him had her haste and confusion been less, because the dawn was coming, +and objects<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> in the quadrangle were vaguely beginning to take shape. A +new day was creeping up over the hill. The cold, unsympathetic light, +matching the compass of his thoughts, made the world look gray and +sordid.</p> + +<p>He had heard, and now realized with a new depression that henceforth he +could be no more a part of her life than any one of the millions who +were fighting the battle of Humanity in this stricken land. Not that he +pretended to love her inordinately, by any means, but a man need only +love a girl with a very small portion of his heart to feel a throb of +pain when she surrenders to some one else. It was this sense of being +left behind that hurt; of being deserted by his old playmate—and of +deserving it! He turned slowly and followed after her.</p> + +<p>She did not hear him as he came up, and when he approached to within a +few feet of her he saw the reason. The dawn was streaking the sky with +pink and salmon tints, and, although her eyes were gazing into it, her +thoughts reached far beyond. Standing upon the hilltop, her hands +crossed over the red emblem on her breast, the half-light of soft color +touching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> her immobile face, she typified the Spirit of Mercy poised +above the unawakened battlefield, ready at the first gun's crash to fly +downward with her warmth, her strength, her sympathy.</p> + +<p>For the moment forgetting his own mission in the presence of the +transfigured Marian, Jeb stood abashed. Yet the minutes were passing, +and the ambulance would not wait.</p> + +<p>"I—I came up to say good-bye," he stammered, awkwardly. "I'm going."</p> + +<p>She turned, seeming reluctant to be torn from her meditations, and +quietly asked:</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>He told her in a few words, adding:</p> + +<p>"Bonsecours won't give his permission unless you agree."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>But she knew. From a multitude of small things, and with an intuition +almost divine, she read another chapter of the great surgeon's nobility, +and turned her eyes again toward the rainbow east. It was perhaps what +she saw there in the changing sunrise that impelled her to whisper +softly:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope you'll always be as brave as you were last night, Jeb."</p> + +<p>His cheeks burned, but he faced her without flinching and replied:</p> + +<p>"I'm never going to run away again, if that's what you mean!"</p> + +<p>"I had not intended to put it so cruelly, Jeb. You've done a great thing +to-night, because you conquered two enemies at the same time—the one +within you being infinitely a harder fight than the one without. I +appreciate that, and am glad for you."</p> + +<p>"I want you to forget that—that disgrace at the shell hole," he said, +doggedly.</p> + +<p>"Forget?" Her voice broke hysterically, and her eyes filled with tears +of pity. "Ask me to forgive it, Jeb, and I may—but, forget it? Oh, how +can I? Don't you understand?—I <i>saw</i> it! I <i>saw</i> it!"</p> + +<p>"Stop, stop—please!" he cried huskily, passing his hand across his +face. "Then don't forget, if—if you can't; but I'd hate to think of the +Colonel, and Aunt Sallie, and——"</p> + +<p>"Your secret is safe, if that's what you fear," she said, now as +composedly as she had a mo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>ment before been moved. Again, for half a +minute, she faced the sunrise, when her voice came wistfully:</p> + +<p>"Oh, God, if—if I just hadn't <i>seen</i> it!"</p> + +<p>He realized with full conviction that an impassable gulf lay between him +and this girl. It was not his debasing weakness, so much as her +discovery of it, that would forever stamp him with the brand of shame. +The Arab sheik who one time said: "A thief may loot my tent and I will +curse all thieves, but do I catch him at it and he dies!"—expressed the +mind of all humanity. Marian had <i>seen</i> Jeb; and this meant that he was +dead to her.</p> + +<p>He watched her for a moment longer, then in a dispirited voice asked:</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell Bonsecours it's all right for me to go?"</p> + +<p>Without taking her face from the east, she answered evenly:</p> + +<p>"Yes; tell him it's all right for you to go. I am praying God to watch +over you, and—and make you truly worthy of a place among our soldiers +from home."</p> + +<p>He glanced back, and saw, far beyond the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> quadrangle, two +stretcher-bearers carrying Tim to the waiting ambulance. Once more he +looked at Marian, tried twice to speak, but stood humbly mute before +her—awed by her ennobling beauty. For again her exquisite hands were +crossed over the red emblem upon her breast, her eyes gazed into the +glorified sky, and her lips moved as she pleaded with the God of Hosts +to fire this playmate at her side with the divine spark of courage—and +keep him brave.</p> + +<p>Jeb bowed his head, feeling as though he were within the precinct of a +holy shrine; then in silence turned and went down the road, walking with +firm steps which, he prayed, would lead to the dawn of a new manhood.</p> + +<p>The first of the "75's" crashed spitefully, and in a chaotic instant the +air and earth again were shorn of their blessed peace. Instantly the sky +became streaked with trails of smoke from over-passing shells. Far to +the north they fell and burst into white spray, as though a long +Atlantic comber were pounding on a rocky shore.</p> + +<p>She turned once and looked toward it, moved by infinite pity for the men +who were being shattered; then started slowly back into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> quadrangle, +just as Bonsecours dashed wildly up in search of her.</p> + +<p>There were no words that he could say; he merely stood in front of her, +holding out his arms. Her fingers, still laced over the Red Cross, +fluttered nervously, as a butterfly, at the beginning of a summer storm, +will cling to a flower—wanting, yet not daring to leave lest its frail +wings, caught upon the wind, might carry it far out into an unexplored +world. But her eyes gazed at him with illimitable yearning; then gently +she swayed, stretched out her hands, and ran to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p>Trees that lined the streets of Hillsdale were touched with tints of red +and gold, frescoed by the magic brush of approaching winter.</p> + +<p>In the <i>Eagle</i> office sat the Colonel and Mr. Strong, looking +thoughtfully into their laps. Tears glistened on their cheeks; for +several minutes neither of them had spoken. Held in the editor's fingers +was an open letter just received, while in the Colonel's inert hand lay +a clipping from the Paris <i>Figaro</i>. The Colonel now glanced up slowly +but, seeing Mr. Strong's face, sharply exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd stop your infernal weeping, Amos!"</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd stop your own!" the editor replied with equal asperity; +then both of them began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"I confess, Amos, that it's hard to keep back tears. Why, by gad, sir, +he has done as much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> as we ever did in the old fracas over here!—more, +sir! And Marian—who the devil is that fellow she eulogizes to the sky? +Here," he handed over the clipping, "read this again! It's a pity it +isn't printed in English!"</p> + +<p>"Let me first read what Marian says, Roger; then we'll take the +clipping."</p> + +<p>Three times within the last half hour these old gentlemen had followed +exactly this same routine: first taking Marian's letter, written from +Paris where she had been sent for a well-earned rest, and then +laboriously translating the newspaper item she inclosed to them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong now adjusted his glasses and began the letter a fourth time, +while the Colonel leaned forward, hanging upon each word. It recited +first what Tim Doreen had magnanimously told about Jeb, losing none of +that Irishman's vividness; then it went on at great length to describe a +certain Dr. Georges Bonsecours. Page after page she wrote of him; citing +innumerable instances of his valor, both while under gruelling fire out +on the field and endless hours of indefatigable work beneath the dug-out +shelters. Having fully covered his present,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> she dashed into his past +with a reckless disregard of ink and paper, and filled many other pages. +Only once did the Colonel interrupt, and then to remark drily:</p> + +<p>"Seems like a pretty thorough biographical sketch, Amos."</p> + +<p>He had made this same observation, just at this same place, upon each of +the previous readings; and the editor had hesitated, cleared his +throat—as he now did—before continuing with the only mention Marian +had written of this great surgeon's future, which was, briefly:</p> + +<p>"When the war is over, he is coming out to Hillsdale."</p> + +<p>For a fourth time now Mr. Strong's eyes grew moist, as he asked:</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose he wants to come out here to Hillsdale for?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel had not previously deigned to answer this; he had merely +subsided into silence and let a lump rise in his throat in sympathy with +the editor. This time, however, he turned squarely to his friend and +asked:</p> + +<p>"Amos, are you trying to be a pig-headed old fool, or do you really want +the truth!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Strong looked at him rather humorously.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll dodge the truth, at any rate, Roger—until this doctor +arrives. How do you think Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie will take it?"</p> + +<p>"Take it? Why, they'll take it just as we do—with joyful hearts, +because their boy and our girl have achieved great things! I never +wanted her to marry Jeb, anyhow!" And to Mr. Strong's smile of surprise, +he thundered: "By cracky, I tell you I didn't, Roger! Jeb was too +immature for her—he had yet to prove himself!"</p> + +<p>"He's proved himself now," the editor emphatically replied.</p> + +<p>"He has, indeed," the Colonel's voice sank to tenderness. "He has, +indeed," he added to himself, as though he could not quite understand +it. "But, Amos, she needs a man of broader calibre—you know she does! +They weren't ever seriously in love with each other, anyhow!—don't +interrupt me again!—I tell you they weren't! Just because their dear +mothers expressed a wish for them to marry, you, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> those two little +old maids out there, got to sentimentalizing over it until the poor +children were hypnotized. Why, confound it, I call them lucky to have +escaped! I wonder, by the way," he added thoughtfully, "if this Doctor +What's-his-name talks English, or the jargon in which that clipping is +printed! He'll have a stupid time here in Hillsdale, that's all I've got +to say."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"You're mighty cock-sure about him and Marian!"</p> + +<p>"Because I don't admit being a pig-headed old fool," the Colonel +grinned. "If ever invisible words were written between lines of a +letter, they're there in your hand! He's asked her, to a certainty; and +she has either said yes, or intends to! Wait for the next mail! The +little vixen is just preparing us—see if I ain't right! Now, read the +other, Amos," he added gently.</p> + +<p>The clipping was a long one, being a list of men in the American Army +who had been recommended for the <i>Croix de Guerre</i>, and, among the many, +he read:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Soldier Jebediah Tumpson, for going through a heavy barrage to search +for a wounded platoon leader, and after two hours under constant fire +bringing him back in safety.'"</p> + +<p>"What's that thing they want to give him?" the Colonel asked, after they +had been silent with their own thoughts for several moments. There was a +huskiness in his voice that suggested another approach of tears.</p> + +<p>"<i>Croix de Guerre</i>," Mr. Strong coughed and answered. "It means the +Cross of War."</p> + +<p>"Then why the devil didn't you say Cross of War, Amos," he demanded, +trying valiantly to hide his emotion. "What's the sense of using words +that sound like a dog fight!—g-r-r-r-r!—Croix de G-r-r-r-r, +indeed!—when you know how to say it in decent American English!"</p> + +<p>The editor smiled understandingly, and again they relapsed into +meditation; their hearts beating happily, the Colonel's stout boot +tapping contentedly upon the oaken floor.</p> + +<p>"Amos," he shouted, springing at last to his feet, "there's no damned +German army ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> recruited can stand before our boys when we get good +and mad!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Strong arose and closed his roll-top desk with a bang. Laying a hand +on his friend's shoulder, he said:</p> + +<p>"You're damn right! Now get your overcoat——"</p> + +<p>"Pouf! I don't need any overcoat!" the Colonel cried disdainfully, +feeling himself warmed by the old spirit of 1861, which had been fanned +into a comforting glow by the new spirit of 1917.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, Roger, for I heard you coughing only yesterday!—and you +remember what I promised Marian!"</p> + +<p>"I will, if you put on your muffler, Amos!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. But what I started to say is, that—while I don't make a +practice of it—I think we're entitled to go to the hotel for a +small—er-a! Then we'll walk out Main street, and take this good news to +the little aunts!"</p> + +<p>"And some flowers, Amos! Tulips, if we can find any—a big bunch of +'em!"</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Berliner Tageblatt.</i> March 26, 1917.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Berlin Lokalanzeiger</i>, March 27, 1917.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From the Kaiser's proclamation to his army, Sept. 13, +1914.</p></div></div> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Of all the charming books that may come forth this year, none will be +more welcome than</h2> + + + <h2>GEORGINA'S<br /> + SERVICE STARS</h2> + + <h3>By Annie Fellows Johnston</h3> + + <p class="center">TO BE PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 1st</p> + + +<p>In it will be found a new story of beloved Georgina whose Rainbow +adventures led into her tenth year. Now she is older—sweet sixteen, if +you please—and Richard, her playmate of childhood days, is a grown man +of seventeen—and as devoted as ever. Of course he got into the great +war enough to give Georgina a second star to her service flag; her +father, being a famous surgeon, his star is rightfully at the top. But +watch out for Richard! (Beautifully illustrated. $1.35 net.)</p> + +<p class="center">AS USUAL—FOR ALL THE FAMILY</p> + + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> + <h3>GEORGINA of the<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 8em;">RAINBOWS</span></h3> + <p class="center">Now selling in beautiful popular edition, 60 cts.</p></div> + + <hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2>He has written another one—and it is as good as his famous book "Laugh +and Live"</h2> + +<h3>MAKING LIFE WORTH WHILE</h3> + +<p class="center">—that the title of <i>Douglas Fairbanks'</i><br />new book to be published in +early autumn</p> + +<p>It is written in his own inimitable style—another book of inspiration +for people of all ages and either sex—a new vein of optimistic cheer +for us mortals of a war-worn world—another message from the man who +knows how to keep himself happy and well, and who is willing to pass his +recipe on to others.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>His book makes for Success Everybody will want it</i></p> + +<p class="center">12mo.—Beautifully Illustrated with 16 New Photographic Duotones</p> + +<p class="center"> +Cloth, $1.00 Khaki, $1.00<br /> +Leather, $2.00 Ooze, $2.50</p> +<p class="center">To be published September 1 +</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>Over the Seas for Uncle Sam</h2> + +<h3> +By ELAINE STERNE,</h3> +<h4>Author of "The Road of Ambition"</h4> + +<p>Miss Sterne is Senior Lieutenant of the Navy League Honor Guard, which +has charge of entertainment and visitation in behalf of sick and wounded +sailors sent home for hospital treatment. Their experiences, such as may +be published at this time, now appear in book form. This book brings out +many thrilling adventures that have occurred in the war zone of the high +seas—and has official sanction. Miss Sterne's descriptive powers are +equaled by few. She has the dramatic touch which compels interest. Her +book, which contains many photographic scenes, will be warmly welcomed +in navy circles, and particularly by those in active service.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cloth Illuminated Jacket $1.35 Net</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>Ambulancing on the French Front</h2> + +<h3>By EDWARD P. COYLE</h3> + +<p>Here is a collection of intensely interesting episodes related by a +Young American who served as a volunteer with the French Army—Red Cross +Division. His book is to the field of mercy what those of Empey, Holmes +and Peat have been in describing the vicissitudes of army life. The +author spent ten months in ambulance work on the Verdun firing line. +What he saw and did is recounted with most graphic clearness. This book +contains many illustrations photographed on the spot showing with vivid +exactitude the terrors of rescue work under the fire of the big guns.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cloth 16 Full page Illustrations $1.35 Net</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Britton Publishing Company—New York</span><br /> +</p> + +<div class="trans-note"> + +<p class="center">There was no Table of Contents in the original. One has been added to this etext +to facilitate easy navigation.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Where the Souls of Men are Calling, by +Credo Harris and John R. 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