“I feel,” was Hal’s reply, “that I am doing a far greater service for humanity by upholding the laws of my country than I could possibly do by letting a mob work its will.”
“But those laws,” protested Donatello; “you know by whom they were made.”
“I know; I have gone all over that phase of the matter a thousand times. But it’s democracy; and, so far, democracy has proved to be the best form of government that any peoples of the earth have ever lived under. I tell you, Donatello,” he was growing eager and emphatic now, “when Gabriel tried to cut down my flag that morning, a sudden reverence for the ‘Stars and Stripes’ took hold of me, and I would have dared anything to protect them. I am just as much of a humanitarian as I ever was. I am just as much in sympathy with the toiling masses of the world as ever. But since that moment I have felt that my first duty is to protect my own. I believe I am not lacking in a sense of chivalry, but my mother and my sisters are my first concern above all other women in the world. Just so my own country must come first in my loyalty and devotion.”
And never, after that, could any argument or appeal shake Halpert McCormack’s conception of patriotism.
It was four days after the riot. Captain Murray was still at the hospital, recovering but slowly from the shock and severity of his wounds. There was no longer any doubt that his condition was the result of a deliberate attempt to cripple the efficiency of the local militia company on the eve of the proposed invasion of Fairweather. His assailants were being held in the county jail without bail to await the result of his injuries.
In the same hospital lay also General Chick. He was desperately ill. The powers of disease had fastened upon his crippled and weakened body with terrible avidity. It could not be denied that his grief and anxiety over the anticipated fate of his beloved lieutenant had not only hastened his illness but was mainly responsible for the ferocity of the attack. Repeated and positive assurances had not been sufficient to free his mind of the harassing belief that he, as an unwilling witness, was to be the chief cause of the officer’s downfall.
It was on the morning of this fourth day that Miss Anderson, the trained nurse who was caring for Chick, went into Captain Murray’s room, as she had been requested to do, to make her daily report concerning the boy’s condition.
“He is no better,” she said. “Of course we do not expect that he will be any better. But if we could only get his mind relieved as to Lieutenant McCormack’s fate—you know that is what he worries about mostly—I am sure he would have less temperature, and be much more comfortable.”
Captain Murray started to raise himself on his elbow, but fell back with a gasp of pain.
“Why!” he exclaimed, “hasn’t he heard yet? Doesn’t he know about McCormack?”