Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1914-09-03
cOoRtinued1

| DSSauoS VI lho OuuSt lneg tnluA We
are bound to yield, no matter if we are
in the right"
! Let them comet" said the butchers
son. IF we have to go. itxwfll be on a
wave of blood"
And they will come some time"
said the judges son. They want our
{ land"
I'VE gain nothing IL we beat them
back. War will be the ruin of busi-
nese," said the bankers son.
/ yes, We are prosperous now. Let
| we'll enough alone!" said the manufao-
/ turer's son.
Some say II makes wages higher"
said the laborer's son, but am think
ing it's poor way of raising your
I pay"
There won't be any war" said the
bankers son. There can't be without
credit. The banking interests will
not permit it."
There can always be war" said the
Judges son, always when one people
determines to strike at another people
even If It brings bankruptcy"
all others in history e mere exchange
of skirmishee. Every able-bodied man
IN hne-automatics a hundred shots q
minute-guns a dozen shots a minute
and aeroplanes and dirigiblesl" said
the manufacturers son.
ITO the death, tool"
And not for glory! We of the $50
who live on the frontier will be fight
ing for our homes"
IF we lose them we'll never get
them back. Better die than be beaten!"
Herbert Stransky, with deep-set
eyes, slightly squirting inward, and a
heavy Jaw, an enormous man who was
the best shot in the company when
he cared to be, had listened in silence
to the others, his rather thick but ex-
pressive lips curving with cynicism-
His only speech all the morning had
been in the midst of the reception in
the public square of the town when he
said:
This homecoming doesn't mean
much to me. Home? He'll! The
hedgerows Of the world are my homel"
He appeared older than his years,
and hard and bitter, except when his
eyes would light with a feverish sort
OF fire which shone as he broke into
lull in the talk
Comrades" he began.
let US hear from the Socialist" q
Tory exclaimed.
cialist.
There won't be any wari" said
Stransky, his voice gradually rising to
the pitch Of an agitator relishing the
sensation Of his own words. Patriot
ism is the played-out trick of the ruling
classes to keep down the proletariat.
There won't be any war! Why9 Be-
cause there are too many enlightened
men on both sides who do the worlds
work. We OF the SD are a pro-
vincial lot, but throughout our army
| there are thousands upon thousands
like me. They march, they drill, but
when battle comes they will refuse
to f1ght-my comrades in heart, to
whom the flag Of this country means
no more than that of any other coun-
try!"
Hold onl The flag is sacred!"
cried the bankers son.
"Yes, that will dol"
Shut upl"
Other voices formed a chorus OF
angry protest.
Il knew you thought It; now I've
caught you!" This from the sergeant,
who had seen hard fighting against
savage foe in Africa and there
fore was particularly bitter about
! the Bodlapoo affair. The welt Of a
scar on the gaunt, fever-yellowed
cheek turned a deeper red as he seized
Stransky by the collar of the blouse.
Stransky raised his free hand as II
to strike, but paused as he faced the
! company's boyish captain, slender OF
figure, aristocratic OF feature. His in
dignation was as evident as the SER
| geant's, but he was biting his lips to
keep 1t under control.
You heard what he said, sir?"
The latter part-enoughl"
tits incitation to mutinyl An ex-
smplel"
"Yes, put him under arrest"
The sergeant still held fast to the
collar of Stransky's blouse. stransky
could have shaken himself free, as Q
mastiff frees himself from a puppy,
but this was resistance to arrest and
he had not yet made up his mind to
go that far. His muscles were weaving
under the sergeant's grip, his eyes
| glowing as with volcanic fire waiting
on the madness of impulse for erup-
| ton.
Il wonder IL 1t is really worth while
to put him under aTrest?" said some
one at the edge of the group in amiable
/ inquiry.
The voice came from an officer of
about thirty-five, who apparently had
strolled over from a nearby aeroplane
station to look at the regiment From
his shoulder hung the gold cords of
the staf. 1t was Col. Arthur Lanstron,
whose plane had SKINNED the Gal
lands garden wall for the easy
bump" ten years ago. There was some
thing more than mere titular respect
in the way the young captain saluted