s, who had already signed for fifty
thousand dollars, rose and added another twenty-five thousand to that
sum. This act elicited another ripple of applause; more questioning
looks were exchanged between those assembled, but there were no further
offers to subscribe.

The hearts of the committeemen fell. Was this meeting, on which they
had so greatly depended, destined to prove a failure, after all?

Jake Kasker, the owner of "Kasker's Clothing Emporium," finally made
his way to the platform and mounting the steps faced his townspeople.
There was a little murmur of surprise and a sudden tension. The man had
been distrusted in Dorfield, of late.

"You all know what I think about this war," said Kasker in a loud voice
and with a slight German accent. "I don't approve of it, whatever
anyone says, and I think we were wrong to get into it, anyhow."

A storm of hisses and cries of "Shame!" saluted him, but he waited
stolidly for the demonstration to subside. Then he continued:

"But, whatever I think about the war, I want to tell you that this flag
that now waves over my head is as much _my_ flag as it is _yours,_ for
I'm an American citizen. Where that flag goes, Jake Kasker will follow,
no matter what fools carry the standard. If they don't think I'm too
old to go to France, I'll pack up and go to-morrow. That's Jake
Kasker--with a Dutch name but a Yankee heart. Some of you down there got
Yankee names an' hearts that make the Kaiser laugh. I wouldn't trade
with you! Now, hear this: I ain't rich; you know that; but I'll take
two thousand dollars' worth of Liberty Bonds."

Some one laughed, jeeringly. Another shouted:

"Make it three thousand, Jake!"

"I will," said Kasker; "and, if there ain't enough of you war-crazy,
yellow-hearted patriots in Dorfield to take what we got to take, then
I'll make it five thousand. But if I have to do that--an' I can't
afford it, but I'll do it!--it's me, Jake Kasker, that'll cry 'Shame!'
and hiss like a goose whenever you slackers pass my door."

There was more laughter, a few angry shouts, and a movement toward the
platform. The German signed the paper Mr. Jaswell placed before him and
withdrew. Soon there was a line extending from the banker's table to
the crowd below, and the signatures for bonds were slowly but steadily
secured.

Colonel Hathaway faced the German clothier, who stood a few paces back,
a cynical grin upon his features.

"Thank you, Kasker," said the old gentlem