“And what are they jumping on poor little Serbia for, a big one like Austria? That’s your kings for you.”
It was one of his Irish friends speaking.
“But they’ll fight, them Serbians; they’re scrappers all right. Nikola is going in the morning. Marta too. It is good to live in a country where they don’t have wars.”
“Nikola’s foolish to go,” broke in some one. “I told his woman so, and she flared up and said, ‘He no go, I go! Serbian men fight—not ’fraid.’ I guess she’s right. I don’t see what she is going to do, five kids too.”
Dick walked on. One of the foremen dropped out of the group that sat on the porch.
“May I speak with you, Mr. Dick?” he said. “A man came to-night, Serbian. He was here when Nikola and Marta came up, and went home with them. Nikola was just here. He told me Serbia was going to war, and that he and Marta and Yovan were leaving in the morning. What’s the row? Is there a war?”
Dick told him all he knew. The foreman’s brief comment was, “Must be some country that will take a man like Nikola out of a job like his—family too.”
“It is,” said Dick.
Back at home he called up Ralph. “Better be sure that some one is at the 10:30 to-morrow morning, Sam. Nikola is leaving. Marta and Yovan too.”
“Leaving,” said Ralph. “Why, they’re the best men in the ‘Emma.’ You don’t mean they’re fools enough to rush out without knowing whether there’s going to be a war. It will be over before they get there. Stop ’em, Dick. It is nonsense.”