y tried to hit his twisters.
Bob's father was a United States Senator, who, after the sinking of
the _Liusitania_, was all for war with Germany. America, in his eyes,
was mad to let time run on until she should be dragged into the
world-conflict without spending every effort in a national
getting-ready for the inevitable day. Senator Haines' speeches were
matter-of-fact----just plain hammering of plain truths in plain
English. Many of his utterances in the Senate were quoted in the
local papers, and Bob's schoolmates read them with enthusiasm when
they were not too long.

Then, too, a number of the Brighton boys had already entered the
service of Uncle Sam. Several were already at the front and had
written thrilling letters of their experiences in the trenches, at
close grip with the Boches. Still more thrilling accounts had come
from some of their former classmates who were in the American
submarine service. Other Brighton boys who had gone out from their
alma mater to fight the good fight for democracy had helped to fan
the flame of patriotism.

So the school gradually became filled with thoughts of war, and almost
every boy from fourteen years of age upward planned in his heart of
hearts to one day get into the fray in some manner if some longed-for
opportunity ever presented itself.

Jimmy Hill---who was fortunate in that his home was within walking
distance of the Academy---commenced his breakfast in silence. Mr.
Hill read his paper and Mrs. Hill read her letters as they proceeded
leisurely with the morning meal. The porridge and cream and then two
eggs and a good-sized piece of ham disappeared before Jimmy's appetite
was appeased, for he was a growing boy, who played hard when he was
not hard at some task. Jimmy was not large for his age, and his
rather slight figure disguised a wiriness that an antagonist of his
size would have found extraordinary. His hair was red and his face
showed a mass of freckles winter and summer. Jimmy was a bright,
quick boy, always well up in his studies and popular with his teachers.
At home Jimmy's parents thought him quite a normal boy, with an
unusually large fund of questions ever at the back of his nimble
tongue.

Breakfast went slowly for Jimmy that morning when once he had finished
and sat waiting for his parents. Mr. Hill was scanning the back page
of the paper in deep concentration. Again the big black letters stared
out at Jimmy. "The war will be won in t