The Last Shot Part 5

"Don't you see he's getting you, Gene?"

"He's acting!"

"He always gets you, you old simpleton!" The judge's son gave Eugene an affectionate dig in the ribs.

Eugene was well liked and in the way that a big Saint Bernard dog is liked. At the latest manoeuvres, on the night that their division had made a rapid flank movement, without any apparent sense that his own load was the heavier for it, he had carried the rifle and pack of Peter Kinderling, a valet's pasty-faced little son "Peterkin," as he was called, was the stupid of Company B. Being generally inoffensive, the b.u.t.t of the drill sergeant, who thought that he would never learn even the manual of arms, and rounding out the variety of characters which makes for fellows.h.i.+p, he was regarded with a sympathetic kindliness by his comrades.

"But I don't think you ought to joke about the flag That's sacred!"

declared Eugene.

"Now you're talking!" said Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, who sat on the other side of the bench from Eugene. He was heavily built, with an undershot jaw and a patch of liverish birthmark on his cheek.

"Yes," piped Peterkin, who had an opinion when the two strong men of the company agreed on any subject. But he spoke tentatively, nevertheless.

He was taking no risks.

"Oh, if we went to war the Bodlapoo affair would be only an excuse,"

said the manufacturer's son. "We shall go to war as a matter of broad national policy."

"Right you are!" agreed the banker's son. "No emotion about it. Emotion as an international quant.i.ty is dead. Everything is business now in this business age."

"Killing people as a broad international policy!" mused Hugo _sotto voce_, as if this were a matter of his own thoughts.

The others scarcely heard him as the manufacturer's son struck his fist in the palm of his hand resoundingly to demand attention.

"We need room in which to expand. We have eighty million people to their fifty, while our territory is only a little larger than theirs.

Our population grows; the Browns' does not!" he announced.

"But there is a remedy for that," Hugo interjected loftly, so softly that everybody looked at him. "Why, all the conscripts of the army for two years could take a vow not to marry," he said. "We could reduce the output, as your father's factory does when the market is dull. We should not have so many babies. This would be cheaper than rearing them to be slaughtered in their young manhood."

"Hear ye! Hear ye!" shouted the doctor's son, in the midst of the hilarity that ensued. "Hugo Mallin solves the whole problem of eugenics by destroying the field for eugenics!"

"The levity of a lot of mere unthinking privates who mistake themselves for sociological experts shall not deter me from finis.h.i.+ng my speech,"

pursued the manufacturer's son.

"Speak on!"

"Listen to the fount of wisdom play!"

"A beer if you produce an idea!"

"War must come some day. It must come if for no other reason than to stop the strikes, arouse patriotism, and give an impetus to industry. An army of five millions on our side against the Browns' three millions! Of course, they won't start it! We shall have to take the aggressive; naturally, they'll not."

"And they'll run, they'll run, just as they always have" Eugene cried enthusiastically.

"You bet they will, or they'll be mush for our bayonets!" said Pilzer, the butcher's son.

"Will they? Do you really think they will?" asked Hugo, drawing down the corners of his mouth in profound contemplation that was actually mournful. "I wonder, now, I wonder if they can run any faster than I can?"

Everybody was laughing except him. If he had laughed too, he would not have been funny. His faint, look of surprise over their outburst only served to prolong it.

"Hugo, you're immense!"

"You're a scream!"

"But I am considering," Hugo resumed, when there was silence. "If both sides ran as fast as they could when the war began, it would be interesting to see which army reached home first. Some of us might get out of breath, but n.o.body would be killed." He had to wait on another laugh before he could continue. It takes little to amuse men in garrison if one knows how. "I don't want to be killed, and why should I want to kill strangers on the other side of the frontier?" He paused on the rising inflection of his question, a calm, earnest challenge in his eyes. "I don't know them. I haven't the slightest grudge against them."

No grudge against the Browns--against the ancient enemy! The faces around were frowning, as if in doubt how to take him.

"What did you come into the army for, then?" called Pilzer, the butcher's son. "You didn't have to, being an only son. Talk that stuff to your officers! They will let you out. They don't want any cowards like you!"

"Cowards! Hold on, there!" said Eugene, who was very fond of Hugo. He spoke in the even voice of his vast good nature, but he looked meaningly at the butcher's son.

"Coward? Is that the word, Jake?" Hugo inquired amiably. "Now, maybe I am. I don't know. But it wouldn't prove that I wasn't if I fought you any more than if I fought the strangers on the other side of the frontier."

"Well, if you don't want to fight, what are you in the army for? That's a fair question, isn't it?" growled Pilzer, in an appeal to public opinion.

"Yes, you can carry a joke too far," said the army officer's son. "Yes, why?"

The others nodded. An atmosphere of hostility was gathering around Hugo.

In face of it a smile began playing about the corners of his lips. The smile spread. For the first time he was laughing, while all the others were serious. Suddenly he threw his arms around the necks of the men next to him.

"Why, to be with all you good fellows, of course!" he said, "and to complete my education. If I hadn't taken my period in the army, you might have shaved me, Eduardo; you might have fixed a horseshoe for me, Henry; you might have sold me turnips, Eugene, but I shouldn't have known you. Now we all know one another by eating the same food, wearing the same clothes, marching side by side, and submitting to another kind of discipline than that of our officers--the discipline of close a.s.sociation in a community of service. There's hope for humanity in that--for humanity trying to free itself of its fetters. We have mixed with the people of the capital. They have found us and we have found them to be of the same human family."

"That's so! This business of moving regiments about from one garrison to another is a good cure for provincialism," said the doctor's son.

"Judge's son or banker's son or blacksmith's son, whenever we meet in after-life there will be a thought of fellows.h.i.+p exchanged in our glances," Hugo continued. "Haven't we got something that we couldn't get otherwise? Doesn't it thrill you now when we're all tired from the march except leviathan Gene--thrill you with a warm glow from the flow of good, rich, healthy red blood?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

There was a chorus of a.s.sent. Banker's son clapped valet's son on the shoulder; laborer's son and doctor's son locked arms and teetered on the edge of the cot together.

"And I've another idea," proceeded Hugo very seriously as the vows of eternal friends.h.i.+p subsided. "It is one to spread education and the spirit of comrades.h.i.+p still further. Instead of two sets of autumn manoeuvres, one on either side of the frontier, I'd have our army and the Browns hold a manoeuvre together--this year on their side and next year on ours."

The biggest roar yet rose from throats that had been venting a tender tone. Only the slow Eugene Aronson was blank and puzzled. But directly he, too, broke into laughter, louder and more prolonged than the others.

"You can be so solemn that it takes a minute to see your joke," he said.

"And humorous when we expect him to be solemn--and, presto, there he goes!" added the judge's son.

Hugo's lips were twitching peculiarly.

"Look at him!" exclaimed the manufacturer's son. "Oh, you've had us all going this afternoon, you old farceur, you, Hugo!"

In the silence that waited on another extravagance from the entertainer the sergeant entered the room.

"We shall entrain to-morrow morning!" he announced. "We are going to South La Tir on the frontier."

Oh, joy! Oh, lucky 128th! It was to see still more of the world! The sergeant stood by listening to the uproar and cautioning the men not to overturn the tables and benches. Even the banker's and the manufacturer's sons, who had toured the country from frontier to frontier in paternal automobiles, were as happy as the laborer's son.