This time the roar was pierced by a shrill scream,
"What about Russia?"
The booming voice over-rode the interruption as a hurricane over-rides a blade of grass that stands in its track.
"Look at little Serbia!—a handful of peasants standing up against a great militarist Empire. Look at Belgium!—the most peaceful nation on God's earth about to be over-run by the Kaiser's hordes. Look at France, the mother of Revolution, and the home of Democracy!—Could we forsake them now?"
"Never!" in a growing thunder.
"If so we forsook our own ideals, betrayed our past, turned our back on our future. Yea. The People must fight or perish."
"He's got em," sobbed Ruth, her handkerchief tight in her mouth. The Colonel could feel her trembling.
"The question to ma mind," continued the speaker, "is not whether we should fight, but whether the officers of the Army—who have failed us once, mind!—will fight."
The blow went home and hammered a few dissentients into silence.
"If not then we must find our own officers—roosset-coated captains who know what they're fighting for, and love what they know."