Fatherland and our homes against the assaults of our enemies. Forward with God, who will be with us, as He was with our fathers!"

Sad as he had never been before, Stewart walked on. Something was desperately wrong somewhere; this people did not want war—most probably even the Kaiser did not want war. Yet war had come; the fate of Europe was trembling in the balance; millions of men were being driven to a detested task. Caught up in mighty armies by a force there, was no resisting, they were marching blindly to kill and be killed——

A sudden outbreak of angry voices in the street ahead startled Stewart from his thoughts. A section of soldiers was halted before a house at whose door a violent controversy was in progress between their sergeant and a wrinkled old woman.

"I tell you we must have him," the sergeant shouted, as though for the twentieth time.

"And I tell you his wife is dying," shrieked the woman. "He has permission from his captain."

"I know nothing about that. My orders are to gather in all stragglers."

"It is only a question of a few hours."

"He must come now," repeated the sergeant, doggedly. "Those are the orders. If he disobeys them—if I am compelled to use force—he will be treated as a deserter. Will you tell him, or must I send my men in to get him?"

The sunken eyes flamed with rage, the wrinkled face was contorted with hate—but only for an instant. The flame died; old age, despair, the habit of obedience, reasserted themselves. A tear trickled down the cheek—a tear of helplessness and resignation.

"I will tell him, sir," she said, and disappeared indoors.

The sergeant turned back to his men, cursing horribly to himself. Suddenly he spat upon the pavement in disgust.

"A devil's job!" he muttered, and took a short turn up and down, without looking at his men. In a moment the old woman reappeared in the door. "Well, mother?" he demanded, gruffly.

"I have told him. He will be here at once."

As she spoke, a fair-haired youth of perhaps twenty appeared on the threshold and saluted. His eyes were red with weeping, but he held himself proudly erect.

"Hermann Gronau?" asked the sergeant.

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