Arne laughed. “Wish I could go, too,” he smiled. “I’d like it—oh, I’d like to be in a big battle an’ hear the noise an’ see the guns an’ get right at the enemy an’ plant a flag where it’d wave for victory! It’d be great! I’d rather fight in this war than any other that ever was—more’n Bunker Hill or Lexington, I would.” He stopped. Across his mind there flashed the phrase he had so often seen, “Help win the war.” It was on so many posters that the government used, and weren’t the thrift stamps helping to win the war? Surely they were!
Lyman broke in upon these thoughts. “You couldn’t go for a long time, kid,” he teased. “You’re just a colt. You don’t have to work in the field a-gettin’ that hay fixed tomorrow! There’s circuses for you yet. It’s work for us men, though, double-time work, too. We’ll be doin’ our bit in the field on Fourth of July. It mayn’t seem glorious as a celebration but it’s all we can do till we’re at camp for trainin’.”
No circus for Lyman and Leslie! Work in the field on Fourth of July! Arne stopped swinging his feet and looked thoughtful. Maybe he wasn’t living up to the colors, after all! How about the money for that thrift stamp? Suppose every boy and girl should buy a circus ticket instead of a thrift stamp—how about Uncle Sam’s helping to win the war with that money?
Nobody knew that there was a battle going on. Nobody heard it. Nobody saw it. The battle was between Uncle Sam’s need and Arne’s love of fun. It was a hot battle. Sometimes it went a little in favor of Arne’s love of fun and then, again, it came back to Uncle Sam’s need. Arne slid down from the hay-wagon quietly and slipped off to the house. He was quiet at supper time. At sunset, he went out to take in the flag. It always waved from the white flag-pole in front of the house. As the colors touched his hands, Arne knew which had won. It was Uncle Sam, of course!
He jogged into Danville creamery on the morning of the Fourth of July with Christopher’s reins flapping hard as they passed by the big poster. He met Harold. He told him. “I guess this year I won’t go to the circus, after all,” he explained. “I want to help Uncle Sam win this war—’tain’t much I can do but I can give the money for the stamp.”
And when he rattled into the big red barn afterwards, he was whistling The Star Spangled Banner. “I’ll bet we win this war!” he shouted to Lyman who was bringing in a load of hay. “I’m goin’ to work with you men today—I’m not a-goin’ to any kid circus, I ain’t!”