The Pulaskian., 1915-03-12

on the road. Then, with an accelera- tion of reckless determination, he ierked the belt itself from his body and hurled it away from him, the bayonet in it's sheath falling with a chatter far from the discarded gun.
 There followed buttons, and num- bers, and all else that was detachable from his once complete and proper uniform.
 This" he cried, "is my answer!" He raised himself erect, folded his arms. and looked with mingled def1- ance and appeal at the amazed and si- lent men.
 'This is my answer to the murder ers-my answer to the emperors, kings, presidents, politicians, capital ists, bankers, makers of guns and pow der-all the money-sodden and power crazed schemers who have brought twenty millions of slaves together to shoot each other down."
 "Stop!" flung out voice from the group of men before him.
 Duprez paused and looked anxious ly but fearlessly toward the speaker.
 Well, Martineau?" he demanded sharply.
 This is treasoni" replied the man resolutely. He was the largest among them-a very presentable figure of a soldier in his new uniform-and his honest face had perhaps little less of the interpretive expression that characterized the pale countenances of his compaions.
 Treason? Treason to whom ? Treason to what?" demanded Duprez, advancing step and treading his Lebel under his feet.
 Treason to your country! Trea- son to France!" retorted Martineau.
 Among the others there was now apparent a division of feeling, con fiict of emotions aroused by the fiery and appealing words of Duprez and the sharp and antiseptic reminder of Martineau.
 Duprez saw instantly that he had perhaps half of his men already won, prepared as they had doubtless been by their reading, and that he had a fair chance to convince the others.
 "Treason!" he cried scornfully. Treason to France, already betrayed by parliamentary cliques! Treason to a country already plundered by grasp ing politicians! Treason to the Patrie already tottering to the grave dug for her by her own men-so-called men who fill the magazines of her battle ships with rotten powder Don't you know why the Liberte blew up?-men who fill their pockets with millions appropriated to buy worn-out and bankrupt railroad-men who trade in the nations property and the nations lives-men who fatten on the corpses of the poor-men who reek with"
 "No!" shouted Martineau. Urea son to the country of Deroulede and Poincare; treason to the nation at tackled by the tyrant who wants to put his foot on every province of France as he has on Alsace and"
 "Oh, there you are!" broke in Du- prez. That foolish cry of Alsace and Lorraine! What is Alsace? What is Lorraine? What is France? What is Germany, Austria, Russia? What are these imaginary lines drawn across fields and mountains and valleys?
 What are these artificial divisions of men that are set to fighting one another on the fimsiest pretexts to gratify the lust of rulers. The Ger man tyrant, you say! Yes, the Ger man tyrant. the Russian tyrant the French tyrants. What is the republic of France, as it stands today, but an- other form of that same corruption, that same autocracy, that same tri- umph of the few over the many that rules in all the world? Because you go to the polls and vote, do you think