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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