ion from Kurt. The second happened to be a great
blunder for the soldier who invented it. He was not in Dorn's squad, but
he knew Dorn pretty well, and in a moment of deviltry he had coined for
Dorn the name "Kaiser Dorn." Dorn's reaction to this appellation was
discomfiting and painful for the soldier. As he lay flat on the ground,
where Dorn had knocked him, he had struggled with a natural rage,
quickly to overcome it. He showed the right kind of spirit. He got up.
"Dorn, I apologize. I was only in fun. But some fun is about as funny as
death." On the way out he suggested a more felicitous name--Demon Dorn.
Somehow the boys took to that. It fitted many of Dorn's violent actions
in training, especially the way he made a bayonet charge. Dorn objected
strenuously. But the name stuck. No comrade or soldier ever again made a
hint of Dorn's German name or blood.

"Fellows, if a funny story can't make Dorn laugh, he's absolutely a dead
one," said Owens.

"Spring a new one, quick," spoke up some one. "Gee! it's great to
laugh.... Why, I've not heard from home for a month!"

"Dorn, will you beat it so I can spring this one?" queried Owens.

"Sure," replied Dorn, amiably, as he started away. "I suppose you think
me one of these I-dare-you-to-make-me-laugh sort of chaps."

"Forget her, Dorn--come out of it!" chirped up Rogers.

To Dorn's regret, he believed that he failed his comrades in one way,
and he was always trying to make up for it. Part of the training of a
soldier was the ever-present need and duty of cheerfulness. Every member
of the squad had his secret, his own personal memory, his inner
consciousness that he strove to keep hidden. Long ago Dorn had divined
that this or that comrade was looking toward the bright side, or
pretending there was one. They all played their parts. Like men they
faced this incomprehensible duty, this tremendous separation, this dark
and looming future, as if it was only hard work that must be done in
good spirit. But Dorn, despite all his will, was mostly silent, aloof,
brooding, locked up in his eternal strife of mind and soul. He could not
help it. Notwithstanding all he saw and divined of the sacrifice and
pain of his comrades, he knew that his ordeal was infinitely harder. It
was natural that they hoped for the best. He had no hope.

"Boys," said Owens, "there's a squad of Blue Devils camped over here in
an old barn. Just back from the front. Some one said there wasn't a man
in i