ecure in the minds of all the soldiers of the world. The public would
forget its unrest in the thrill of battles won and provinces conquered,
and its clatter would be that of acclaim for a new idol of its old
faith.

V

OFF TO THE FRONTIER

Ranks broken in the barracks yard, backs free of packs, shoulders free
of rifles, the men of the first battalion of the 28th, which Westerling
had seen marching through the park, had no thought except the prospect
of the joyous lassitude of resting muscles and of loosening tongues that
had been silent on the march. They were simply tired human beings in the
democracy of a common life and service.

The 128th had been recruited from a province in the high country distant
from the capital. In the days of Maria's old baron, a baron of the same
type had plundered their ancestors, and in the days of the first Galland
they formed a principality frequently at war with their neighbors of the
same blood and language. At length they had united with their neighbors
who had in turn united with other neighbors, forming the present nation
of the Grays, which vented its fighting spirit against other nations.
Each generation must send forth its valorous and adventurous youth to
the proof of its manhood in battle, while those who survived wounds and
disease became the heroes of their reminiscences, inciting the younger
generation to emulation. With each step in the evolution learning had
spread and civilization developed.

Since the last war universal conscription had gone hand in hand with
popular education and the telegraphic click of the news of the world to
all breakfast tables and cheap travel and better living. Every private
of the five millions was a scholar compared to the old baron; he had a
broader horizon than the first Galland. In the name of defence, to hold
their borders secure, the great powers were straining their resources to
strengthen the forces that kept an armed peace. Evolution never ceases.
What next?

In a group of the members of Company B, who dropped on a bench in the
barrack room, were the sons of a farmer, a barber, a butcher, an army
officer, a day-laborer, a judge, a blacksmith, a rich man's valet, a
banker, a doctor, a manufacturer, and a small shopkeeper.

"Six months more and my tour is up!" cried the judge's son.

"Six months more for me!"

"Now you're counting!"

"And for me--one, two, three, four, five, six!"

"Oh, don't rub it in," the manufac