"That ain't my fault," said the marshal grimly. "We've got to nip this thing in the bud if we have to—"
"What proof have you got that the Germans are back of all this? Got to have proof, you know."
"Gosh a'mighty, Alf, ain't you got any sense at all? What are all these fellers gittin' married for if there ain't somethin' behind it? They ain't—"
"They're gittin' married because every blamed one of 'em is a slacker," said Alf forcibly.
"A what?"
"Slacker. They don't want to fight, that's what it means."
Anderson pondered. He tugged at his whiskers.
"They don't want to fight who?" he demanded abruptly.
"W'y—w'y—nobody," said Alf.
"They don't want to fight the Germans," said Mr. Crow triumphantly. "That ought to settle the matter, Alf. What better proof do you want than that? That shows the Germans are back of the whole infernal plot. They are corruptin' our young men. Eggin' 'em into gittin' married so's—"