The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1914-12-04

ana then ne had mastered MS emo
ton. He was the soldier again.
An hour or so before the attack the
telegraph instruments in the Galland
house had become pregnantly silent.
There were no more orders to give;
no more reports to come from the
troops in position until the assault was
made. Officers of supply ceased to
transmit routine matters over the wire,
while they strained their eyes toward
the range. Officers of the staff moved
about restlesely, glancing at their
watches and going to the windows fire.
Auently to see if the mist still held.
No one entered the library where
Westerling was seated alone with
nothing to do. His suspense was that
of the mothers who longed for news
of their sons at the front; his helpless
ness that of a man in a hospital lobby
waiting on the result of an operation
whose success or failure will save or
wreck his career. The physical desire
of movement, the conflict with some
thing in his own mind, drove him out
of doors.
Westerling was rather pleased with
the fact that he could still smile;
pleased with the loyalty of younger
officers when, day by day, the stan
had grown colder and more me-
chanical in the attitude that COM
pleted his isolation. Walking vigor-
ously along the path toward the tower,
the exercise of his muscles, the feel
of the cool, moist air on his face,
brought back some of the buoyancy of
spirit that he craved. A woman's fig
ure, with cape thrown over the shout
ders and the head bare, doomed out Of
the mist.
81 couldn't stay in-not tonight, "
Marta said as Westerling drew near.
Il had to see. It's only quarter of
an hour now, isn't it?"
She seemed SO utterly frail and
distraught that Westerling, in an i'm
pulse of protection, laid his hand on
her relaxed shoulders.
Our cause is at stake tonight" he
declared, yours and mine! We must
win, you and 1! 1t is our destiny!"
you and II" repeated Marta. why
you and II"
1t seemed very strange to be think
ing of any two persons when hundreds
of thousands were awaiting the signal
for the death prepared by him. He
mistook the character Of her thought
in the obsession of his egoism.
what do lives M" he cried with
a sudden desperation, his grip of her
shoulders tightening. 1T is the law
of nature for man to fight. Unless he
fights he goes to seed. One trouble
with our army is that it was soft from
the want of war. 1t is the law of ma
ture for the fittest to survive! Other
sons will be born to take the place Of
those who die tonight. There will be
all the more room for those who live.
Victory will create new opportunities.
What is a million out of the billions
on the face of the earth? Those who
lead alone count-those who dwell in
the atmosphere of the peaks, as we
dol" The pressure of his strong hands
III I1lO uhSOhoS1Ou6 Clupldo1S vi ul0
passion became painful; but she did
not protest or try to draw away, think
ing of his hold in no personal sense
but as part of his self-revelation. "All
all is at stake there!" he continued,
staring toward the range. Its the
Rubicon! have put my career on to-
nights cast! Victory means that the
world will be at our feet-honor, po-
sition, power greater than that of any
other two human beings! Do you
realize what that means-the honor
and the power that will be ours? l
shall have directed the greatest army
the world has ever known to victory!"
And defeat means-what does de-
feat mean?" she asked narrowly, calm
ly; and the pointed question released
her shoulders from the wise.
What had been a shadow in his
thoughts became live monster, strik-
ing him with the force of a blow. He
forgot Marta. Yes, what would de-
feat mean to him? Sheer human ma
ture broke through the bonds of men,
boA AA9SlpAAuO "SdhSuSu ny Sl66pl6SS
nights. Convulsively his head dropped
as he covered his face.
Defeat! Fail! That should fall"
he moaned.
Then it was that she saw him in the
reality of his littleness, which she had
OWNED; this would-be conqueror. She
saw him as his intimates often see the
great man without his front of Jove.
Don't we know that Napoleon had mo-
ments of privacy when he whined and
threatened suicide? She wondered if
Lanny, too, were like that-if it were
not the nature of all conquerors who
could not have their way. 1t seemed
to her that Westerling was beneath
the humblest private in his army-be-
meath even that fellow with the liver
patch on his cheek who had broken
the chandelier in the sport of brutal
passion. All sense of her own part was
submerged in the sight of a chief of
staff exhibiting no mora stoicisDo tbor