broken by the Kid. He
turned from the window and looked toward Hamlin. "That's right!" he
said.

He sat down on the edge of the table, and at the deserter pointed his
forefinger.

"Son," he said, "this war is some war. It's the biggest war in
history, and folks will be talking about nothing else for the next
ninety years; folks that never were nearer it than Bay City, Mich. But
you won't talk about it. And you've been all through it. You've been
to hell and back again. Compared with what you know about hell, Dante
is in the same class with Dr. Cook. But you won't be able to talk
about this war, or lecture, or write a book about it."

"I won't?" demanded Hamlin. "And why won't I?"

"Because of what you're doing now," said Billy. "Because you're
queering yourself. Now, you've got everything." The Kid was very much
in earnest. His tone was intimate, kind, and friendly. "You've seen
everything, done everything. We'd give our eye-teeth to see what
you've seen, and to write the things you can write. You've got a
record now that'll last you until you're dead, and your grandchildren
are dead-and then some. When you talk the table will have to sit up
and listen. You can say 'I was there.' 'I was in it.' 'I saw.' 'I
know.' When this war is over you'll have everything out of it that's
worth getting-all the experiences, all the inside knowledge, all the
'nosebag' news; you'll have wounds, honors, medals, money, reputation.
And you're throwing all that away!"

Mr. Hamlin interrupted savagely.

"To hell with their medals," he said. "They can take their medals and
hang 'em on Christmas trees. I don't owe the British army anything.
It owes me. I've done my bit. I've earned what I've got, and there's
no one can take it away from me."

"You can," said the Kid. Before Hamlin could reply the door opened and
John came in, followed by Uncle Jim. The older man was looking very
grave, and John very unhappy. Hamlin turned quickly to John.

"I thought these men were friends of yours," he began, "and Americans.
They're fine Americans. They're as full of human kindness and red
blood as a kippered herring!"

John looked inquiringly at the Kid.

"He wants to hang himself," explained Billy, "and because we tried to
cut him down, he's sore."

"They talked to me," protested Hamlin, "as though I was a yellow dog.
As though I was a quitter. I'm no quitter! But, if I'm ready to quit,
who's got a better right? I'