sequently the country too,
and that honor and glory and the fatherland had been redeemed. They've
all been promoted and decorated since. They're a queer lot, those Frank
officers."

"We ought not to be too quick in judging foreigners," said Sam. "Their
methods may seem strange to us, but we are not competent to criticize
them. Let each army judge for itself."

"As a matter of fact," said Cleary, "every army is down on the others.
If you believe what they say about each other they're a pretty bad lot.
They all say that the Mosconians are barbarians, and they call the
Tutonians thugs. The rest of them call the Franks woman-hunters, and
they all call us and the Anglians auctioneers and looters and
shopkeepers, and drunkards, and we're known as temple-burners and
vandals too."

"What an outrage!" ejaculated Sam.

"The Anglians are more like us, but they've got a few old generals and
then a lot of small boys, and nothing much between. I should think the
generals would feel like school-masters. I told one of their officers
that, and he said it was better than having second lieutenants
seventy-five years old as we do. We're loving each other a lot just
now, the Anglians and us, but one of our naval officers let on to me
that they were dying to have a war with them. You see, since South
Africa nobody's afraid of them except the Porsslanese, and they don't
read the papers. And how the Anglians despise the Franks! Why, we were
discussing lying in war at a lunch-party, and one of their generals was
there, a rather dense sort of a machine of a man. They had been saying
that lying was an essential part of war, and that an officer must be a
good liar and able to deceive the enemy well, as well as a good
fighter, and the conversation drifted off into the question of lying in
general. Somebody asked the general if he would say he was a Tutonian
to save his life. 'Of course,' he answered. 'But would you say you
were a Frank under the same circumstances?' asked some one else.
'Certainly not,' he said. Everybody roared, but he didn't see any joke,
and looked as grave as an owl all the rest of the afternoon. Then the
commanders are all so jealous of each other. They are spying on each
other and putting sticks in each other's wheels. Officers are queer
people. There's only one profession that can compete with them for
feline amenities, and that is the actress profession."

"Cleary," said Sam, "I l