Newspaper Page Text
SATURADY, AUGUST 29.
* j[.v * sJjt3 hm mKH Vrar 1.4 P
In this story Mr. Palmer, the
noted war correspondent, has paint
ed war as he has seen It on many
battlefields, and between many na
tions. His Intimate knowledge of
armies and armaments has enabled
him to produce a graphic picture of
the greatest of all wars, and his
knowledge of conditions has led
him to prophesy an end of armed
conflicts. No man Is better quali
fied to write the story of the final
world war than Mr, Palmer, and
he has handled hie subject with a
master hand.
CHAPTHR I.
A Speck In the Sky.
U wus Marta who first saw the speck
to the sky. Her outcry and her bound
from her seat at the teatable brought
her mother and Colonel Westerling
after her onto the lawn, where they
became motionless figures, screening
their eyes with their hands. The new
est and most wonderful thing in the
world at the time was this speck ap
pearing above the Irregular horlaon of
the Brown range, in view of a land
scape that centuries of civilization had
fertilized and cultivated and formed.
At the baße of the range ran a line
of white stone posts, placed by Inter
national commissions of surveyors to
the nicety of an Inch’s variation. In
the very direction of the speck'B flight
a spur of fodt-hills extended into the
plain that stretched away to the Gray
range, distinct at the distance of
thirty miles in the bright afternoon
light. Faithful to their part In refus
ing to oilmb, the white posts circled
around: the spur, hugging the levels.
In the lap of the spur was La' Tlr,
the old town, and on the other side
of the boundary lay South La Tlr, the
new town. Through both ran the dusty
ribbon of a road, drawn straight across
the t plain and over the glistening
thread of a river. On its way to the
para of the Brown range it skirted the
garden of the Gallands, which rose In
terraces to a seventeenth-century
house overlooking the old town from Its
outskirts. They were such a town, Buch
a road, such a landscape as you may
see on many European frontiers. The
Christian people who lived In the re
gion were like the Christian people
you know If you look for the realities
of human nature under the surface dif
ferences of language and habits.
Beyond the house rose the ruins of a
castle, its tower still intact. Marta al
ways referred to the castle as the
baron; for In her girlhood she had a
way of personifying all inanimate
things. If the castle walls were cov
ered with hoar frost, she said that the
baron was shivering; If the wind tore
around the tower, she said that the
baron was groaning over the demo
cratic tendencies of the time. On such
a summer afternoon as this, the baron
was growing old gracefully, at peace
with his enemies.
Centuries older than the speck In
the sky was the baron; but the pass
road was many more, countless more,
centuries older than he. It had been
a trail for tribes long before Roman
legions won a victory in the pass,
which was acolatmed an Imperial tri
umph. To hold the pass was to hold
the range. All the blood shed there
would make a red river, inundating the
plain.
"Beside the old baron, we are par
venus," Marta would say. "And what
a parvenu the baron would have been
to the Roman aristocrat!”
"Our family Is old enough—none
cider In the province!" Mrs. Galland
would reply. “Marta, how your mind
does wander! I’d get a headache Just
contemplating the things you are able
to think of In five minutes.”
The first Galland had built a house
on the land that his king had given
him for one of the most brilliant feats
of arms In the history of the pass.
Even the tower, raised to the glory
of an older family whose descendants,
if any survived, were unaware of their
lineage, had become known ae the
Galland tower. The Gallands were
rooted In the soli of the frontier; they
were used to having Wat's hot breath
blow pest their door; they were at
home In the language and customs of
two peoples; theirs was a peculiar tra
dition, which Marta had absorbed with
her first breath. Town and plain and
range we~e the first vista of landscape
that she had seen; doubtless they
would be the last
One or two afternoons a week Col
onel Hedworth Westerling, commander
of the regimental post of the Grays on
the other side of the white poets,
stretched his privilege of crossing the
frontier and appeared for tea at the
Gallands. It meant a pleasant half
hour breaking a long walk, a relief
from garrison surroundings, and In
view of the order, received that morn
ing, this was to be a farewell call.
He had found Mra. Galland an agree
able reflection of an aristocratic past
The daughter had what he defined
vaguely as girlish piquancy. He found
It amusing to try to answer her un
usual questions; he liked the variety
at her incentive wind, Its dashes
oF downright, matter-of-factness.
Not until tea was served did he men
tion his new assignment; he was going
to the general staff at the capital. Mrs.
Galland murmured her congratulations
In conventional fashion.
Marta’s chair wae drawn back from
the table. She leaned forward In a
favorite position of hers when she was
intensely Interested, with hands
clasped over her knee, which her
mother always found aggravatingly
tomboyish. She had a mass of lustrous
black hadr and a mouth rather large
in repoee, but oapable of changing
curves of emotion. Her large, dark
eyes, luminously deep under long
lashes. If not the reet of her face, had
beauty. Her head was bent, the
lashes forming a line with her brow
now, and her eyes had the still flame
of wonder that they had when she
; was looking all around a thing and
through it to find what tt meant.
‘‘Some day you will be chief of staff,
the head of Gray army!” she suddenly
exclaimed.
Westerling started as If he had been
surprised In a secret. Then he flushed
slightly.
“Why?” he asked with forced care
lessness. “Your reasons? They’re more
Interesting than your prophecy.”
"Because you have the will to be."
she said without emphasis, In the im
personal revelations of thought "Too
want power. You have ambition.”
He looked the picture of it, with Mb
square Jaw, his well-moulded head set
close to the shoulders on a sturdy
neck, his even teeth showing as his
lips parted in an unconscious smile.
"Marta, Marta! She Is—te so ex
plosive,” Mrs. Galland remarked apolo
getically to the colonel.
"I asked for her reasons. I brought
tt on myself-—and it Is not a bad com
pliment,” he replied. Indeed, he had
never received one so thrilling.
His smile, a smile well pleased with
Itself, remained as Mrs. Galland began
to talk of other things, and its linger
ing satisfaction disappeared only with
Marta’s cry at sight of the speck in
the sky over the Brown range She
was out on the lawn before the others
had risen from their seats.
“An aeroplane! Hurry!” she called.
How fast the speck grew!
Naturally, the business war,
watching for every invention that
might serve Us ends, was the first
patron of flight. Captain Arthur Lan
stron, pupil of a pioneer aviator, had
been warned by him and by the chief
of staff of the Browne, who was look
lng on, to keep In a circle close to the
ground. But he was doing so well
"It Mutt Be Bandaged—l’m Not Go
ing to Faint.”
that ho thought he would try rising; a
little higher. The summit* of the range
shot under him, unfolding a variegated
rug of landscape. He dipped the planes
slightly. Intending to follow the ratio’s
descent and again they answered to
his desire. The tower loomed before
him as suddenly as if tt had been shot
up out of the earth. He must turn,
and quickly, to avoid disaster; he mnat
turn, or be would be across the white
posts in the enemy’s oountry.
"Oh!" groaned Marts and Mrs. Qnl
land together.
In an agony of suspense they saw
the fragile creation of cloth and bam
boo and metal, which had seemed as
secure as an albatross riding on the
lap of a steady wind, dip far over,
careen back in the other direction, and
than the whirring noisa that had g*own
with Its flight ceased. It was no longer
a thing of winged life, defying the law
of gravity, but a thing dead, falling un
der the burden of a living weight.
. "The engine hae sWisell” wqlglmed
Westerling, any trace of emotion In
his observant imperturbability that of
satisfaction that the machine was the
enemy's. He was thinking of the ex
hibition, not of the man In the ma
chine.
Marta was thinking of the man who
was about to die. She rushed down the
terrace steps wildly, as If herr going
and her agonized prayer could avert
the inevitable. The plane, descending,
skimmed the garden wall and passed
out of sight. She heard a thud, a crack
ling of braces, a ripping of cloth, but
no cry.
Westerling had started after her, ex
claiming, “This is a case for first aM!”
while Mrs. Galland, taking the steps
as fast ae she could, brought up the
rear. Through the gateway in the gar
den wall could be seen the shoulders
of a young officer, a streak of red
coursing down his cheek, rising from
the wreck. An inarticulate sob of re
lief broke from Marta's throat, fol
lowed by quick gasps of breath. Cap
tain Arthur Lanetron was looking into
the startled eyes of a young girl that
seemed to reflect his own emotions of
the moment after having shared those
he had in the air.
"I flew! I flew clear over the range,
at any rate!” he said. “And I’m alive.
I managed to hold her so she missed
the wall and made an easy bump.”
He got one foot free of the wreck
and that leg was all right. She shared
his elation. Then he found that the
other was uninjured, just ae she cried
in distress;
“But your hand—oh, your hand I"
His left hand hung limp from the
wrist, cut, mashed and bleeding. Ha
nerves numbed, he had not as yet felt
any pain from the injury. Now he re
garded It In a kind of awakening stare
of realization of a deformity to come
"Wool-gathering again!” he mut
tered to himself crossly.
Then, seeing that she had turned
white, he thrust the disgusting thing
behind his back and twinged with the
movement The pain was arriving.
‘Tt must be bandaged! I have a
handkerchief!” she begged. "I’m not
going to faint or anything like that!”
"Only bruised —and it’s the left. I
am glad It was not the right,” he re
plied. West- rling arrived and joined
Marta In offers of assistance Just as
they heard the prolonged honk of an
automobile demanding the right of
way at top speed in the direction of
the pass.
"Thank yon, but they’re coming for
me,” said Lanstron to Westerling as
he glanoed up the road.
Westerling was looking at the wreck.
Lanstron, who recognised him as an
officer, though In mufti, kicked a bit of
the torn doth over some apparatus to
Mde tt At this Westerling smiled
faintly. Then Lanstron saluted as of
ficer to officer might salute across the
white posts, giving his name and re
ceiving In return Weeterllng’s.
They made a contrast, these two
men, the oolonel of the Grays, swart
and sturdy, his physical vitality so evi
dent, and the captain of the Browns,
some seven or eight years the Junior,
bareheaded, In dishevelled fatigue
uniform, his lips twitching, hla slender
body quivering with the pain that ha
could not control, while hts rather
bold forehead and delicate, sensitive
features suggested a man of nerve and
nerves who might have left experi
ments In a laboratory for an adventure
In the air. There was a kind of chal
lenge In their glances; the challenge
of an ancient feud of their peoples;
of the professional rivalry of polite
duellists. Lanstron’s slight figure
seemed to express this weaker number
of ths three million soldiers of the
Browns; Westerllng’s bulkier one, the
four million five hundred thousand of
the Grays.
"You bad a narrow squeak and yon
made a very snappy recovery at the
last second,” said Westerling, passing
a compliment across the white posts.
"That’s In the line of duty for you
snd me. Isn’t it?” Lanstron replied,
his voice thick with pain as he forced
a smile.
There was no pose in his fortitude.
He was evidently disgusted with him
self over the whole business, and he
turned to the group of three officers
and a civilian who alighted from a big
Brown army automobile as if he were
prepared to have them say their worst.
They seemed between the impulse of
reprimanding and embracing him.
"I hope that you are not surprised at
the result," said the oldest of the of
ficers, s man of late middle ags, rather
affectionately and teasingly. He wore
s single order on bis breast, a plain
Iron cross, and the insignia of his rank
was that of a field marshal.
"Not now. 1 should be again, sir,”
said Lanstron, looking full at the field
marshal in the appesd of one asking
for another chanoe. "I was wool-gath
ering. But I shall not wool-gather next
time. I've got a reminder more urgent
than a string tied around my finger."
"Yes, that hand needs Immediate at
tention,” said the doctor. He and an
other ofltoer began helping La nitron
into the automobile
- HC/oofl-by 1" no bailed to the young
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA=
girl, who was still watching him with
big, sympathetic eyes. “I am coming
back soon and land in the field, there,
and when I do. I'll claim a bunch of
flowers.”
"Do! What fun!” ehe cried, as the
car started.
"The field-marshal was Partow, their
chief of staff?” Westerling asked.
"Yes,” said Mrs. Galland. “I remem
ber when he was a young infantry offi
cer before the last war, before he had
won the iron cross and become so
great. He was not of an army family
a doctor’s son, but very olever and
skilful.”
"Getting a little old for his work!"
remarked Westerling. "But apparent
ly he is keen enough to take a per
sonal Interest in anything new."
“Wasn’t It thrilling and—and ter
rible!” Marta exclaimed.
“Yes, like war at our own door
again,” replied Mrs. Galland, who knew
war. She had seen war raging on the
pass road. “Lanstron, the young man
said his name was,” she resumed after
a pause. "No doubt the Lanstrone of
Thorbourg. An old family and many
of them In the army.”
“The way he refused to give In—that
was fine!” said Marta.
Westerling, who had been engrossed
in his own thoughts, looked up.
"Courage Is the cheapest thing an
army has! You can got hundreds of
young officers who are glad to take a
risk of that kind. The thing Is,” and
his fingers pressed in on the palm of
his hand In a pounding gesture of the
forearm, “to direct and command—
head work —organization!"
"If war should come again— * Marta
began. Mrs. Galland nudged her. A
Brown never mentioned war to an offi
cer of the Grays; It was not at all In
the accepted proprieties. But Marta
rushed on: "So many would be en
gaged that it would be more horrible
than ever.”
“You cannot make omelets without
breaking eggs.” Westerling answered
with suave finality.
"The aeroplane will taks its place as
an auxiliary," he went on, his mind
still running on the theme of her
prophecy, which tho meotlng with Lan
stron had quickened. “But war will,
as ever, be won by the bayonet that
takes and holds a position. We shall
have no miracle victories, so—"
There he broke off. He did not ao
company Mrs. Gallaud and Marta back
to the house, hut made his adieus at
the garden-gate.
"I'm sure that I Bhall never marry a
soldier!” Marta burst out as she and
her mother were ascending the stepo.
CHAPTER 11.
Ten Year* Later.
His Excellency the chief of staff at
the Grays was seldom In his office. His
Excellency had years, rank, prestige.
'Hie breast of his uniform sagged with
the weight of his decorations. He ap
peared for the army at great func
tion#; hla picture was In the shop
windows. Hedworth Westerling, the
new vice-chief of staff, was content
with this arrangement His years
would not permit him the supreme
honor. This was for a figurehead, while
he had the power.
His appointment to the staff ten
years ago had given him the field he
wanted, the capital Itself, for the play
of his abilities. His vital energy, hi#
impressive personality, his gift for
courting the Influences that counted,
whether man’s or woman's, his astute
readiness In stooping to some meas
ures that wore In keeping with the
times but not with army precedent,
had won for him the goal of his ambi
tion. He had passed over the heads of
older men, whom many thought his
betters, rather ruthlessly. Those who
would serve loyally he drew around
him; those who were bitter he crowd
ed out of hla way.
In the adjoining room, occupied by
Westerling, the walls were hung with
the silhouettes of Infantrymen, such
as you see at maneuvers, In different
positions of firing, crouching in shal
low trenches, standing in deep
trenches, or lying flat on the stomach
on level earth. Another silhouette,
that of an Infantryman running, was
peppered with white points In arms
and legs and parts of the body that,
were not vital, to show In how many
places a man may be hit with a small
caliber bullet and still survive.
In this day of universal European
conception. If Westerling were to win
In war It would be with five million#—
five hundred thousand more than when
he faced a young lirown officer over
the wreck of an aeroplane—lncluding
the reserves; each man running, firing,
crouching, as was the figure on the
wall, and trying to give more of the
white points that peppered the sil
houette than he received.
Now Turoaa, the assistant vice-chief
of staff, and Bouchard, chief of the di
vision of Intelligence, standing cm
either side of Westerllng’s deck, await
ed his derisions on certain matters
which they had brought to hla atten
tion. Both were older than Wester
ling, Turcas by ten and Bouchard by
UfVeen yems.
A Great Story of Present War Between
Germany and France . Modern War
and the Moves of Game Thrillingly De
scribed by Famous War Correspondent
Turcas had been strongly urged In
inner army circles for the placo that
Westerling had won, list Ills manner
and his ability to court influence were
against him. A lath of a man and stiff
as a lath, pale, with thin, tightly-drawn
Ups, quiet, steel-gray eyes, a tracery of
Ulue veins showing ou his full temples,
he suggested the ascetic no less than
the soldier, whllo his Incisive brevity
of speech, flavored now and then wtth
pungent humor, without any Inflection
In his dry voice, was in keeping with
his appearance. He arrived with the
clerks In the morning and frequently
vemaiued after they were gone. As a
master of detail Westerling regarded
him as an invaluable assistant, with
certain limitations, which were those
of the pigeonhole and the treadmill.
As for Bouchard, nature had meant
him to be a wheel-horse. He had never
had any hope of being chief of staff.
ill
“One-Seventh the Allotted Span of
Life I” He Mused.
Hawk-eyed, with a great beak nora
and Iron gray hair, Intensely and sol
emnly serious, laoklng a sense of
humor, be would have looked at home
with his big. bony hands gripping a
broadsword hilt and his lank body
clothed In chain armor. He had a
mastiff’s devotion to Its master for his
chief.
“Since Lanstron became chief of in
telligence of the Browns Information
seems to have stopped,” said WeHter
llng, bat not oomplalnlngly. He appre
ciated Bouchard's loyalty.
"Yes, they say he even hams him
laundry billß, he Is so careful," Bou
chard replied,
"But that we ought to know,” Wee
terllng proceeded, referring very In
sistently to a secret of the Browns
which had baffled Bouchard. "Try a
woman," he went on with that terse,
hard directness which reflected one of
hla sides. “There Is nobody like a
woman for that sort of thing. Spend
enough to get the right woman.”
Turcas and Bouchard exchanged a
glance, which roae suggestively from
the top of the bead of the seated vice
chief of staff. Turcas smiled slightly,
while Honchard was graven as usual.
"You oould hardly reach lanstron
though you spent a queen’s ransom,”
said Bouchard In his literal fashion.
“I should say not!” Westerling ex
claimed. “No doubt about Lanstron’a
being all there! I saw him ten yearn
ago after his first aeroplane flight un
der conditions that proved It. How
ever, be must have susceptible subor
dinates."
“Wo’H set all the machinery we
have to work to find one, sir,” Bou
chard replied.
“Another thing, we mast dismiss any
Idea that they are concealing either
artillery or dirigibles or pianos that
we do not know of,” continued Wester
ling. "That Is a figment of our appre
hensions. The fact that we find no
truth In ths rumors proves that there
Is none. Such things are too Important
to be concealed by one army from an
other."
"Lanstron certainly cannot carry
them In his pockets," remarked Tur
ca*. "Still, we must be sure," he
added thoughtfully, more to hlmeelf
than to Westerllng, who bad already
turned his attention to a document
which Turoas laid on the desk.
"The 128th Regiment hue been or
dered to South I-a Tir, but no order
yet given for the 182 d, whose place tt
takes,” he explained.
"Let It remain for the present!"
Westerllng replied.
After they had withdrawn, the look
that passed between Turcas and Bou
chard was s pointed question. The
l?2d to remain at South {.a Tir! V.juj
there something more than "newspa
per talk" In this latest diplomatic
crisis between the Grays and the
Browns? Westerling alone was In the
confidence of the premier of late. Any
exchange of Ideas between the two
subordinates would be fruitless sur
miso and against the very Instinct o:
staff secrecy, where every man knew
only his work and asked about no om
else’e.
Westerling ran through the paper:
that Turcas had prepared for him. If
Turcas had written them. Westerllny
knew that, they were properly done.
Having clenred his desk into the hand :
of his executive clerk, he looked at the
clock. It had barely turned four, “a
picked up the final staff report, of ob
nervations on tho late Balkan cam
paign, just printed in book form,
danced at it and laid it aside. Already
he knew tho few lessons afforded hv
this war "done on the cheap,” with
limited equipment and over hud roads.
No dirigibles had been used and few
planes. It was no criterion, except in
tho effect of the tiro of the new pattern
guns, for the conflict of vast masses of
highly trained men against, vast masses
of highly trained men, with rapid
transportation over good roads, com
plete equipment, thorough organiza
tion, backed by generous rosnuroes, In
the cataclysm of two great European
powers.
Rather Idly, now, he drew n pad to
ward him and, taking up a pencil,
, made the figures seventeen and twen
ty-seven. Then he made the figures
thirty-two and forty-two. He black
ened them with repeated tracings as
he mused. This dono, he put seven
teen under twenty-seven and thirty
two under forty-two. He made the
subtraction and studied the two tens.
A swing door opoued softly and hie
executive clerk reappeared with a soft
tread.
"Some papers for your signature,
sir," ho said as he slipped them on the
blotter In front of Westerling. “And
the 132 d—no order about that, sir?"
he asked.
“None. It remains!” Westerling re
plied.
Tho clerk went out Impressed. His
chief taking to sums of subtraction
and totally preoccupied! The 132 dto
remain! He, too, had a question-mark
In his secret mind.
Westerling proceeded with his math
ematics. Haring hoavily shaded the
tens, he essayed a sum In division. He
found that ten went Into seventy Just
seven times.
“One seventh the allotted span of
life!" he mused. “Take off fifteen
years for youth and fifteen after fifty
five --nobody counts after that, though
I mean to—and you have tan Into
forty, which Is one-fourth. That Is a
good deal. But it's more to a woman
than to a man—yes, a lot more to a
woman than to a man!”
The clerk was right In thinking
Westerling preoccupied; but It was
not with the international crisis. Over
hts coffee the name of Miss Marta Gal
land, In the list of arrivals at a hotsl,
had caught ht« eye In the morning pa
per. A note to her had brought an
answer, saying that her time was lim
ited, but she wuild be glad to have
him call at five that afternoon.
Westerling realized that the ques
tion of marriage as a social require
ment might arise when he should be
noma officially chief of staff with the
retirement of His Excellency the field
marshal. IR>r the present he enjoyed
his position as a bachelor who was
the most favored man In the army too
much to think of marriage.
It was a little surprising that the
bell that the girl of seventeen had
rung In his secret mind when bn waa
on one of tho first rounds of the lad
der. now lost In tho mists of a lower
stratum of existence, should ever
tinkle again. Yet he had beard Its
note In the tone of her prophecy with
each step In his promotion; and while
the other people whom he bad known
at Ia Tlr were the vagueet shadows of
personalities, her picture waa as defi
nite In detail as when she said: "You
have the will! You have the ambi
tion!" Hhe had recognized In him the
power that he felt; foreseen his ascent
to the very apex of the pyramid. She
was still unmarried, which was
strange; for she bad not been bad
looking and she was of a fine old fam
ily. What was ehe like now? Com
monplace and provincial, most likely.
Many of the people he had known In
his early days appeared so when he
met them again. But, at the worst, he
looked for an Interesting half-hour.
The throbbing activity of the streets
of the capital, as his car proceeded on
the way to bar hotel, formed an ener
getic accompaniment to his gratifying
backward survey of how all his plans
had worked out from the very day of
the prophecy. Had he heard the re
mark 'if a great manufacturer to the
hanker at his side In a passing limous
ine, "There goee the greatest captain
of Industry of us all!" Weeterllng
would only have thought: "Certainly.
I am chief of staff. I am at the bead
of all your workmen at one time or
another!” Had he heard the banker's
answer. "But pretty poor pay, pretty
small dividends!” he would have
thought, “Splendid dividends —the divi
dends of power!”
He had a caste contempt for the men
of commerce, with their mercenary
talk about credit and market prices;!
and also for the scientists, doctors, en
gineers, and men of other professions,
who spoke of things In books which
he did not understand. Reading books
was one of the faults of Turcas, his so,
sistant. No bookish eoldler, he knook
had ever been a great general. He re
sented the growing power of thane
leaders of the civil world, taking
tlnotion away from the military, even
when, as a man of parts, he had ta
court their influence. His was th«
profession that was and ever should
be the elect. A penniless subaltern
wae a gentleman, while he could novag
think of a man In business as one.
All the faces in the street belonged
to a strange, busy world outside his in
terest and thoughts. They formed
what was known as the public, often
making a clatter about things which
they did not understand, when theg|
should obey the orders of their en
poriors. Of late, their clatter had bean
about the extra taxos for the reoent in
crease of the standing forces by an
other corps. The public was bovtnt
with a parrot's heed. Yet it did not
admire the tolllqg ox, hut the eqgta
and the Hon.
As his car came to the park his m T mm
lighted at sight of one of the dividends
—one feature of urban life that eves
gave him a thrill. A battalion of tbel
128th, which he had ordered that after*
noon to the very garrison at South 1a
Tlr that he had once commanded, was
marching through the main avemm.
Youth# all, of twenty-one or two, th«j>
were In a muddy-grayish uniform
which waa the color of the plain aa|
#een from the veranda of the Gallant!
house, Where these oame from were
other boys growing up to take their
places. The mothers of th# nation
were doing their duty. All the land!
was a breeding-ground for the divi
dend# of Hedworth Westerling.
At the far side of the park he sew
another kind of dividend—another!
group of marching men. These werw
not In uniform. They were the unem
ployed. Many were middle-aged, withj
worn, tired faces. Beside the flag of
the country at the head of the proces
sion was that of universal radicalism.
And his car had to stop to let them
pass. For an Instant the indignation,
of military autocracy rose strong wltb
ln him at sight of the national colors
in such company. But he noted how
naturally the men kept step; tho
solidarity of their movement. Tho
stamp of their army service In youth,
could not be easily removed. He nab
land the advantage of heading an army
in which defense was not dependent
on a mixture of regulars and volun
teers, but on universal conscription
that brought every able-bodied mam
under discipline.
Theee reservists, la the event of
war, would hear the call of rmoe and'
they would fight for the one flag that
then had any significance. Yes, the
old human Impulses would predomi
nate and the only enemy would be os*
the other side of the frontier. Than
would be pawns of bis will—tha w4li
that Marta Galland had said would
make him chief of staff.
Wasn't war the real cure for tha
general unreal? Wasn’t the nation
growing stale from the long peace? Ha
was ready for war now that he had bo
coms vice-chief, when the retlremead
of Hie Excellency, unable to bear tha
weight of hie years and decorations tn
the field, would make him ths supress*
commander. One ambition gained, ha
beard the appeal of another; to lira
to see the guns and rifles that hod
fired only blank cartridges to practice
pouring out shells and bußeta aad all
the battalions that had playsd at shana
war In maneuvers engaged to roal
war, under hla direction. He saw his
columns sweeping np the slopes of tha
Brown range. Victory was certain. Ha
would be the first tn lead a great modi
era army against a groat modem
army; bis place ss the master of mod
era tactics secure in the minds of al!
the soldiers of the world. The public
would forget Its unrest In the thrill of
battles won and provinces conquered,
and Its clatter would be that of so
cial m for a new Idol of Its old faith.
(To be costlaned Tomorrow.)
RECOGNIZED SINEWS OF WAR.
On the occasion of the annuel en
campment of a Western militia one
of the eoldlers, a clerk who lived well
at home, waa experiencing much dif
ficulty In disposing of hie rations.
A fellow sufferer nearby waa watch
ing with no little amusement the first
soldier’s attempts to Fletchertie a
piece of meat. “Any trouble, TomT”
asked the second soldier sarcastically.
“None In particular," waa the re
sponse. Then, after a sullen survey
of the bit of beef he held In hla hand,
the amateur fighter observed:
‘‘Bill, I now fully realise what peo
ple mean when they speak of the
alnewa of wax.”
FIVE