come as a
surprise. Sufficient universal projection of this kind of imagination
might afford sufficient martial excitement without war.

His mind was busy in the gestation of his impressions and observations
since he had crossed the frontier. Definitely he knew that he was not
afraid of bullets or shell fire, and in this fact he found no credit
whatever. The lion and the tiger and the little wild pigs of South
America who will charge a railroad train are brave. But it took some
courage to bear Pilzer's abuse in silence, he was thinking, while he was
conscious that out of all that he had seen and felt in the conflict of
multitudinous angles of view was coming something definite, which would
result in personal action, fearless of any consequences.

The thing that held him back from a declaration of self was the pale
faces around him; his comrades of the barracks and manoeuvres. He
loved them; he thought, student fashion, that he understood them. He
liked being their humorist; he liked to win their glances of affection.
The fortitude to endure their contempt, their enmity, their ostracism
would not save those dear to him in his distant provincial home from
humiliation and heart-break. There was the rub: his father and mother
and his sweetheart. He was an only son. His sweetheart was a goddess to
his eyes. What purpose is there in the rebellion of a grain of sand on
the seashore, in the insubordination of one of five million soldiers?
Hadn't Westerling answered all doubts with the aphorism, "It is a
mistake for a soldier to think too much"?

Thus pondering, in the company of the stars, Hugo, who had so many
thoughts of his own that he led a double life, awaited the dawn. When
the church spire became outlined in the rosy, breaking light of the
east, he thought how much it was like the church spire of his own town.
He saw that he was in what had been a beautiful, tenderly cared-for old
garden before soldiery had ruthlessly trampled its flowers.

Raising his head to a level with the terrace wall--the second terrace
was low--he could see the piles of sand-bags on the first terrace only
twenty feet away and an old house that belonged to the garden. The
location appealed to him as his glance swept over plain and mountains
glistening with dew. It must be glorious to come down from the veranda
at daybreak or day's end to look at the flowers at your feet and the
horizon in the distance.

"Could little White Liver sleep away fro