y more subdued key. A state of
things which at first had seemed merely exciting and soul-stirring
was coming home more keenly. They were beginning to make individual
applications. Captain Chalmers would be called out, of course. Though
over thirty, Mr. Curtis himself might enlist. Then some one thought
suddenly of Wesley Becker, who was just nineteen. That seemed the
strangest thing of all, for Wes, despite his semi-leadership, was merely
one of themselves. But of course it was all the merest speculation;
they didn't really know anything yet. So when the meal was over and
Mr. Curtis rose slowly in his place, there was a long, concerted sigh
of relaxing tension.

"Fellows," began the scoutmaster, quietly, "I want to read you the
President's message delivered to Congress last night. You won't find
it dull. On the contrary it's about the most vivid, vital piece of
writing I have ever read. It puts clearly before us the situation we
are facing. It will make you prouder than ever of your country and its
head."

And without further preamble he began to read that wonderful document
which has stirred the world and has taken its place among the immortal
utterances of men. And as he read, eyes brightened, boyish faces flushed,
brown hands gripped the rough edges of bench or table, or strained
tightly over clasped knees. He finished, and there came a brief,
eloquent moment of utter silence, followed by a swift outburst of wild
applause.

The scoutmaster's face lit up with a smile. "It's great, isn't it?"
he said. "Makes you feel mighty proud to have a man like that at the
helm." He folded the paper and laid it on the table before him. "And
now," he went on, his shoulders squaring a bit, "I want to say a few
words myself. A state of war exists, for Congress cannot help but back
up the man who wrote that message. It's been coming for a long time.
Many of us have felt it and tried to plan a little in advance. Your
signaling and first aid and drilling have all been with that idea in
view. What I want now is that you shall give more time than ever to
those things--practically all the rest of your time in camp here.
Remember George Lancaster, that English chap who was in Troop One
several years ago. To-day he's one of the best signalers in the British
army. It will mean hard work, but, unless I'm far wrong, work will
swiftly come to be the great slogan throughout the country. Will you
do this, fellows? Stand up, every one who's will