WAR
As the crowd of young fellows came trooping into the office, old
Peterson, who alone had kept at his books, looked up with a reproof
upon his lips.
"What do you fellows think this is, a business office or an athletic
club?" he demanded.
But the querulous look and tone vanished when he had heard the story of
Oliver's rescue, and as he turned to his books again the old veteran of
many battlefields muttered to himself:
"The old American stuff is in the boys yet. If he's the kind that
Uncle Sam is going to send to the trenches, Heaven help the Kaiser!"
Three weeks went by, weeks of stern resolve and feverish expectation.
It was becoming evident now to every mind that America could not, if
she would, keep out of the war except at the expense of national honor.
Every day brought its toll of sinking ships and murdered crews, of
wanton brutality and flagrant disregard of plighted faith. The whole
world was sickening of the German name.
The city of Camport felt the quickening thrill that was running through
the continent from coast to coast. War was the universal topic. In
the shop, in the street, in the church, in the courthouse, the one
prevailing subject was war.
The mad dog of Europe was running wild, and it was up to America to
join with all the rest of the civilized world in putting an end to his
depredations.
The Thirty-seventh had come back to Camport from the Mexican border,
the men hard as nails, sound as nuts, brown as berries, eager and
ardent for the tremendous task before them, and as the regiment swung
through the streets, headed by the band, keeping step to the strain of
martial airs, the little city went wild with enthusiasm.
"There's no use, Frank," said Bart, as with the other young fellows of
the place they thronged the windows to see the regiment go by. "I'm
going to join."
"Same here," said Frank. "I can feel Uncle Sam's hand on my shoulder
this minute."
"We're coming father Abraham, one hundred thousand strong!" sang out
Reddy, from his place on a stool behind them where he had perched
himself so as to be able to look over their heads.
Just then Billy Waldon passed in the ranks and looked up at them with a
cheerful grin.
"There's Billy!" cried Tom. "Oh, boy! wouldn't I like to be marching
alongside of him!"
"Let's go around to the armory this very night, Frank, and give in our
names!" cried Bart. "I tell you, this thing's got me, got me bad."
"It's got me just as bad," said Frank, "and the only question is, in
just what branch of the service I'm going to enlist when the President
calls for troops. I want to see action and see it quick, and I have
the idea that perhaps the regular army boys will get into the trenches
sooner than the national guard. I'll talk it over with my mother
to-day and then I'll decide."
By the time the noon hour arrived the parade was over, and Frank, with
his heart and mind full of the stirring scenes he had witnessed, went
home to lunch.
It was only when the modest little house came into view that his
thoughts took a more sober turn and his step slowed a little. Up to
now he had been thinking chiefly of himself. He was like a hound
straining at the leash. Every instinct in him clamored to be in the
very thick and front of the coming fight.
But there was his mother, his mother, whose eyes had grown larger and
more wistful of late as every day had brought nearer and nearer the
conflict that was about to claim her only son. He was all that she
had, her one strong support and sure refuge and loving comrade.
What would she do, alone and anguished in this quiet home while he was
battling at the front in a rain of shells, of poison gas, of liquid
fire?
But he must not sadden her by carrying into the house this shadow of
coming events that for the moment had flung itself over him, and he
assumed a gaiety that he did not feel as he ran lightly up the steps
where she, as usual, stood waiting for him in the open door.
She on her part had hidden her heartache beneath a mask of vivacity.
It was a loving deception where each knew that the other was trying to
deceive and failing in the attempt.
"Well," she asked, cheerily, as they sat down to the tasteful meal she
had prepared for him, "what is the news in the city to-day? It seems
to me that I have heard nothing but band music all morning."
"I guess the band didn't leave anything out," said Frank with a smile.
"They played through the whole list of national airs from the "Star
Spangled Banner" to "Dixie."
"But I heard something else too," went on his mother. "What was it the
newsboys were crying through the streets?"
"Oh it was an extra of some kind," said Frank, evasively.
"But of what kind?" asked his mother with a gentle persistence.
"Why, it was about the President's speech," said Frank, reluctantly.
"He's expected to address the Senate this afternoon, and everybody is
eager to know what he will have to say."
"I can guess what it will be," said his mother, sadly.
"Yes," agreed Frank, "There's no use blinking the facts, little Mother.
He's going to declare that the United States is at war with Germany.
And high time, too!" he burst out, his pent-up convictions finding
voice. "We've been patient, Mother, till patience becomes a fault.
We've waited and hoped and written and argued, and all the while
Germany has been growing more vile and brutal. Any further patience
would be cowardice. And that's one thing that, with all its faults,
our country has never been guilty of. It's up to us now, Mother, every
one of us," and he emphasized the words, "to show that we're worthy to
be called Americans."
"Yes," faltered his mother, "I suppose it is--in my heart I know it is.
But oh, my boy! my boy! how can I let you go?"
"It's duty, Mother," said Frank, gently. "It isn't a question of
choice. I must go. My country needs me, and I know my mother well
enough to be sure she would be the last one in the world to hold me
back."
Before his mother could reply there was a commotion in the street
outside. They looked at each other inquiringly and then rose from the
table and hurried to the window.
Most of the houses in Camport had been decorated with Old Glory in
honor of the return of the favorite regiment. Frank had seen to it
early in the morning that his own flag had swung from a pole set in the
upper window.
Through the whole length of the street there was not a house that did
not show from some point of vantage the Stars and Stripes.
The house directly opposite Frank's had gone even further. Upon one of
the pillars of the porch had been deftly grouped the flags of France
and England with Old Glory in the center. It was a type of the
alliance that bound together or was soon to bind three of the great
nations that were to fight side by side the battle of civilization
against barbarism.
Before the house where these emblems were displayed, a little knot of
people were arguing and gesticulating. One of them, a burly fellow,
had a face that bore the German stamp. He was greatly excited and his
arms were waving like windmills as he pointed at the three flags that
seemed to have stirred him to anger.
Suddenly, in a fit of rage, he broke away from the group, ran up the
walk to the house, grabbed the offending colors from the pillar of the
porch and threw them to the ground where he stamped upon them.
Mrs. Sheldon gasped.
With a bound Frank reached the door, flung it open and rushed across
the street. The fellow who had vented his rage on the flags looked up.
He saw Frank coming, and the sight of that flying figure, with taut
muscles and blazing eyes was not reassuring.
He ran down the walk in an effort to escape. Frank met him at the
gate. Like a flash Frank's fist shot out and the vandal measured his
length on the ground.