"The battles! Shades of all the heroes! Why, Daisy, Europe has done nothing but fight for a hundred thousand years. There isn't a half inch of it that hasn't had a battle. See, there was one, and there was another tremendous; and there, and there, and there, and there, and all over! This little strip here that is getting swallowed up in the Mediterranean there has been blood enough shed on it to make it red from one end to the other, a foot deep. That's because it has had so many great men belonging to it."
Daisy looked at Captain Drummond.
"It's pretty much so, Daisy," he said; "all over the south of
Europe, at any rate."
"Why over the south and not the north?"
"People in the north haven't anything to fight for," said Gary. "Nobody wants a possession of ice and snow more than will cool his butter."
"A good deal so, Daisy," said Captain Drummond, taking the silent appeal of her eyes.
"Besides," continued Gary, "great men don't grow in the north. Daisy, I want to know which is the battle-field you are going to die on."
Daisy sat back from the map of Europe, and looked at Gary with unqualified amazement.
"Well?" said Gary. "I mean it."
"I don't know what you mean."