He paused, his voice choking with emotion, as he seized Ned's arm:
"O, Boy, Boy, isn't that a greater ideal? That's all the President is asking to-day—to stand by the Union——"
"He is making war on the South!"
"But only as the South is forcing him reluctantly to defend the Union by force. The South is mad. She will come to her senses after the shock of the first skirmish is over. With the Southern members in their places, they have a majority in Congress against the President. He can move neither hand nor foot. What has the South to gain by Secession? They always controlled the Union and can continue to do so if they stand united with their Northern friends. In the end their defeat is as sure as that twenty millions of free white Americans can whip five millions of equal courage and daring. They have everything to lose and nothing to gain. It's madness—it surpasses belief!"
"That's why I'm going to fight for them!" Ned's answer flashed. "They stand for a principle—their equal rights under the Republic their fathers created. They haven't paused to figure on success or failure. Five million freemen have drawn the sword against twenty millions because their rights have been invaded. Might has never yet made right. The South's daring is sublime and, by God, I stand with them!"
His words had the ring of steel in their finality. The two men faced each other for a moment, tense, earnest, defiant.
The younger extended his hand:
"Good-bye, John."
The handsome face of the older brother went suddenly white and he shook his head:
"No. From to-day we are no longer brothers—we can't be friends!"