"I wouldn't mind an old-fashioned war, with fighting in the open in the old way," said Hubert, after a moment's thought. "But that hard and dirty trench fighting, the terrible big new cannon, the poison gas, and all the devilish doings of the Germans—it sort of gets on my nerves."
"We'd get used to it," said Ted. "And to go in is the only thing to do. You remember the Greek mythology tale about how the new race of gods knocked out and gave the hideous and terrible Cyclops their finish, fastening them down under great rocks? The Germans and their deviltry make me think of the Cyclops, and they've got to be put down in something of the same sort of way, or the world won't be safe for anybody. It's like going out after mad dogs. It's dangerous, and you don't like it, but you've got to do it."
Hubert's thoughtful silence admitted the correctness of Ted's view. After some minutes without speech the younger boy asked:
"Ted, what are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking that even if the slackers did catch us and take us back to Deserters' Island, maybe it would be for the best, after all," said Ted. "You see, I might make a friend of Mr. Jenkins—there's something nice about him—and maybe I might get him interested in the war and persuade him to go out——"
"Well, you are the limit!" exclaimed Hubert, in disgust.
Then he turned over, refusing to talk any more, and soon fell asleep.
XVIII
IN the early morning they were awakened by the rain falling on their faces, and found their once dry and cosy retreat now thoroughly wet and uncomfortable. Not only did water percolate through the hastily constructed palmetto thatch, but, the wind having changed, the rain now beat in from the front. A slow, steady downfall evidently had continued throughout the night.