o, they won't talk about it, or let any one else--"

"Oh, I guess it isn't that they don't realize it," Grace interrupted
thoughtfully. "You know my father always used to say that a man who never
knew what it was to be afraid wasn't really brave at all. He said it was
the man who was scared to death in his heart, that gritted his teeth and
went ahead and faced things anyway, that deserves all the credit."

"I presume that's right," said the Little Captain, leaning forward
earnestly. "I don't suppose there is any one in the world who really
enjoys the thought of losing an arm or a leg, or being broken in health
for the rest of his life. I think what our boys are doing is just to take
the fear of that with a smile and go ahead gayly to face whatever may
come. Brave--" Her voice trailed off, and for a long time there was
silence while the big car hummed rhythmically along the road and the miles
swept by uncounted.

"Of course, there are lots of people," Betty resumed after a while, "who
say the boys just enlisted for the love of adventure, the love of a good
fight, and I suppose that had something to do with it."

"Of course it had," Mollie agreed. "And that's one thing that makes it
harder for us who have to stay at home and can't have any of the thrill
and excitement that helps to carry the boys through. But it's only one of
a dozen reasons, after all."

"I wish we knew when they were going," said Grace, irrelevantly. "The
suspense is worse than anything else. It's like cutting a dog's tail off
an inch at a time."

"Goodness, isn't she complimentary?" flung back Mollie, laughing. "You can
compare yourself to a four-footed dog, Grace, but please leave me out of
it."

"Did you ever hear of a two-footed dog?" Grace retorted.

"To change the subject," Betty interposed hastily, seeking to avoid a
storm. "Don't you think it's almost time to be turning back? We've gone
farther than--Oh, Mollie! Girls! Look!"

They had rounded a curve in the road at their usual breakneck speed, and
Mollie stopped the car with a jolt that very nearly sent its occupants
flying into the roadway.

Before them, not twenty yards away, a little figure in black lay huddled
in the road while the motorcyclist who had caused the accident, sped by
the girls, exhaust open and head lowered.

Dazedly they gazed after machine and rider for a minute till they
disappeared round a turn in the road. Then, with a cry of dismay, Betty
tumbled out of the