Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1915-01-13

We prepare for the movement
your excellency." answered Turcas.
! II was a steel harness Of his own
VIII that Westerling wore, without ad-
hitting that It CALLED him. and be laid
II on only In Marta's presence. With
her, mis- growing sense Of isolation had
the relief Of companionship. She be
came a kind of mirror of his egoism
and ambitions. He liked to have her
think OF him as great man unrufiled
among weaker men. In the quiet and
seciqsion OF the garden. inyoIuntarily
as one who has no confidant speaks
= himself. reserVing fortitude for his
part before the staff, while she, under
the spell of her purpose, silently, with
serene and wistfully listening eyes,
played hers, he outlined how the final
and telling blow was to be struck.
We must and we shall win!" he
kept repeating.
Through rubber disk held to his
ear in the closet of his bedroom a
voice, tremulous with nervous fatigue,
was giving Lanstron news that all his
| aircraft and cavalry and spies could
not have gained; news worth more
than a score of regiments; news fresh
from the lips OF the chief Of staff of
the enemy The attack was to be
made at the tight of Engadir, its CEN
ter breaking from the redoubt manned
by F'racasses men.
Marta, you genius!" Lanstron cried
You are the real general! YOU
mot that, pleased" she broke in.
I'm as foul and deprayed as a dealer
in subtle poisons in the middle agesI
oh, the shame of it, while look into
his eyes and feign admiration, feign
everything which will draw out his
plans! l can never forget the sight
Of him as he told me how two or three
or four hundred thousand men were
to be crowded into ram, as he called
it-a ram of human fleshl-and guns
enough in support, he said, to tear any
redoubts to pieces; guns enough to
make their shells as thick as the bull
let's from an automatlcl"
Wen meet ram with ram! Wen
have some guns, too" exclaimed Ian
stron. Wen send as heavy a shell
fire at their infantry as they send into
our redoubts."
Don't It's too like Westerling. It
has become too trite!" she protested.
THE end! II really were helping
toward that aud to save lives and our
country to it's people. what would my
private feelings matter? My honor,
my soul-what would anything mat
ter? For that, any sacrifice. I'm
only one human being--a weak, luna
tic sort of one, Just nowl"
Marta, don't suffer SO! You are
overweight YOU"
81 can say all that for you, Lanny,"
she interrupted with the faintest laugh.
1--WE said It so many times to myself.
Perhaps when l call you up again /
shall not be so hysterical"
Lanstron was not thinking of war or
wars combination when he hung up
the receiver. II was some moments
before he returned to the staff room,
and then be had mastered his 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 restlessly, glancing at their
watches and going to the windows fire.
quently 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 man In a hospital lobby
waiting on the result of an operation
whose success or failure win 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 staff
had grown colder and more me
ehanical 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 wonian'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 a 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 /! 1t is our destlnyi"
you and Il" repeated Marta. why
you and I?'
II seemed very strange to be think
| ing Of any two persons when hundreds
/ of thousands we're awaiting the signal
\ for the death prepared by him. He