Crittenden

"Hold on there, little brother."

Crittenden stopped in the doorway, smiling affectionately, and the boy

thrust the blade back to the hilt.

"Why, Clay," he cried, and, as he ran forward, "Are you going?" he

asked, eagerly.

"I'm the first-born, you know," added Crittenden, still smiling, and the

lad stretched the sabre out to him, repeating eagerly, "Are you going?"

The older brother did not answer, but turned, without taking the weapon,

and walked to the door and back again.

"Are you?"

"Me? Oh, I have to go," said the boy solemnly and with great dignity, as

though the matter were quite beyond the pale of discussion.

"You do?"

"Yes; the Legion is going."

"Only the members who volunteer--nobody has to go."

"Don't they?" said the lad, indignantly. "Well, if I had a son who

belonged to a military organization in time of peace"--the lad spoke

glibly--"and refused to go with it to war--well, I'd rather see him dead

first."

"Who said that?" asked the other, and the lad coloured.

"Why, Judge Page said it; that's who. And you just ought to hear Miss

Judith!"

Again the other walked to the door and back again. Then he took the

scabbard and drew the blade to its point as easily as though it had been

oiled, thrust it back, and hung it with the cap in its place on the

wall.

"Perhaps neither of us will need it," he said. "We'll both be

privates--that is, if I go--and I tell you what we'll do. We'll let the

better man win the sword, and the better man shall have it after the

war. What do you say?"

"Say?" cried the boy, and he gave the other a hug and both started for

the porch. As they passed the door of his mother's room, the lad put one

finger on his lips; but the mother had heard and, inside, a woman in

black, who had been standing before a mirror with her hands to her

throat, let them fall suddenly until they were clasped for an instant

across her breast. But she gave no sign that she had heard, at breakfast

an hour later, even when the boy cleared his throat, and after many

futile efforts to bring the matter up, signalled across the table to his

brother for help.

"Mother, Basil there wants to go to war. He says if he had a son who

belonged to a military organization in time of peace and refused to go

with it in time of war, that he'd rather see him dead."