to ask the young man at the next stool why he did not go. According to
the papers, England was clamouring loudly for her sons.

"Enlist!" exclaimed the young Englishman angrily, colouring red. "Why
don't you enlist yourself? You say you're an Englishman, I believe!"

The half-breed did not see the sneer. A great flood of light filled
his soul. He was English! One half of him was English! England was
calling for her own--and he was one of her own! He would answer the
call. A high, hot wave of exultation passed over him. His spirit was
uplifted, exalted. The glorious opportunity had come to prove
himself--to answer the call of the blood! Why had he never thought of
it before!

For days afterwards he went about in a dream of excitement, his soul
dwelling on lofty heights. He asked to be released from his position,
and his request was granted. The manager shook hands with him and
wished him luck. His brother clerks nodded to him, on the day of his
departure, and wished him a good voyage. They did not shake hands with
him, and were not enthusiastic, as he hoped they would be. His spirits
were a little dashed by their indifference. However, they had always
slighted him, so it was nothing unusual. It would be different after
he had proved himself--it would be all right after he had proved
himself, had proved to himself and to them, that English blood ran in
his veins, and that he was answering the call of the blood.

His adventures in the war do not concern us. They concern us no more
than the gap in the office, caused by his departure, concerned his
employer or his brother clerks. Within a few weeks, his place was
taken by another young Englishman, just out, and the office routine
went on as usual, and no one gave a thought to the young recruit who
had gone to the war. Just one comment was made. "Rather cheeky of him,
you know, fancying himself an Englishman." Then the matter dropped.
Gambling and polo and golf and cocktails claimed the attention of
those who remained, and life in Shanghai continued normal as usual.

In due course of time, his proving completed, he returned to his
native land. As the ship dropped anchor in the lower harbour, his
heart beat fast with a curious emotion. An unexpected emotion, Chinese
in its reactions. The sight of the yellow, muddy Yangtzse moved him
strangely. It was his river. It belonged, somehow, to him. He stood,
a lonely figure, on the deck, clad in ill-fitting, civilian clothes,
no