"Oh, yes, he does," Billy continued unabashed.—"So it's up to you. Will you make us all happy, or will you send me to meet my fate amid the horrors of war?"
"That'll be about all of that," Philip said, scowling. "We came out here to talk war and not nonsense. I won't stand for it!"
"We mustn't get these two great questions confused, Billy," Huntington said soothingly. "I have something to tell you later which may solve one of them, and we should approach the other with a calm and judicial mind. I haven't any right to advise you, Philip, for your mother and father probably have definite ideas which must be respected; but if a way could be found for Billy to have some of the experiences over there without running too much danger, I should be inclined to throw my influence in favor of his going."
"Hurrah!" Billy cried.
"That is all I could possibly expect, Mr. Huntington," Philip acknowledged. "If Billy is allowed to go, I'm sure Mother and Dad will consent."
"Very good. I promise you to look into it carefully, and Billy will keep you posted as to the result."
"What's the other solution?" Billy asked suspiciously.
"I'll tell you later.—Now let me speak with the others. There is nothing more for us to talk about, is there?"
"I'm sorry I spoke so lightly about the war," Philip said, grasping Huntington's hand as they separated. "I have fighting in my blood somewhere, and I'm so excited over it all that I forget myself sometimes."
"War means to forget one's self at all times, my boy," Huntington answered kindly. "With all its savagery, with all its brutal return to primeval instincts, the sacrifices and the heroism it calls for ennoble those who are drawn into its hideous vortex. No man can once feel this and ever again look upon life in a small way. That is why, under certain circumstances, I might favor Billy's desire."