“Wondering about me?”
“Yes, about the way you’re acting on this enlistment business. You want to volunteer and join the army, don’t you?”
“Why, yes, sure I do.”
“Well, you don’t act very happy over it,” put in Ned. “You were enthusiastic at the start, and then you simmered out. Are you getting cold feet? You’re not——”
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean!” blurted out Bob.
“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” put in Ned, quickly. “No one who knows you, as Jerry and I know you, would ever accuse you of that. You’ve gone through too many tight and dangerous places with us to have us say that you’re[60] afraid. And yet something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, I s’pose you could call it that,” assented Bob slowly.
“Are you going to renege in the matter of volunteering?” asked Jerry.
“No.”
“But you aren’t as keen on it as you were at first!” declared Ned. “What’s the matter, Bob? Are you in trouble, Chunky, old man?” and he put his arm affectionately over his chum’s shoulder.
“Yes, fellows, I am in trouble,” said Bob, and he spoke desperately. “I almost wish I hadn’t agreed to enlist! That I’d waited for the draft, and then——”
“What are you saying?” cried Jerry in amazement.
“Well, I mean that then I’d have a good excuse to go to war, and I couldn’t help myself,” and Bob floundered a good deal in his explanation.
“Why do you need an excuse?” asked Jerry.
“Oh, well, I suppose I may as well tell you.”
“Wait a minute!” broke in Ned. “Bob, this is getting a bit personal, I know, but the end justifies the means, I think. Have you been to see Miss Schaeffer lately?”
Bob looked up quickly.
“Last night,” he answered. “You ought to know. You left me there in the car.”
[61]
“So I did. But I have a reason for asking. Doesn’t her father own some stock in a Boston German paper?”
“I believe he does,” said Bob.
“And the paper has been one of the strongest advocates against the United States taking any part in this war, as I happen to know,” went on Ned. “It came out flatly, and justified the sinking of the Lusitania on the ground that it was carrying munitions to England. The same paper has taunted Uncle Sam, since the declaration of war, with siding with our old enemy, Great Britain. Am I right, Chunky?”
“I suppose it’s true. But Helena hasn’t anything to do with the paper.”
“No, but she can’t help siding with her father, and he helps to dictate the policy of that slanderous German sheet! Bob, tell me the truth; isn’t the Schaeffer family pro-German?”
“Well, I suppose they are. It’s natural——”
“It isn’t natural!” burst out Jerry. “If any so-called German-Americans want to side with the Kaiser let them go back to Germany where they belong. Uncle Sam hasn’t any use for ’em! Bob, I didn’t think this of you!”
“Oh, don’t be too severe on Chunky!” interposed Ned. “He hasn’t done anything yet. I know just what the situation is, I think. Bob, you have come to the parting of the ways.[62] You’ve either got to go with us or stay home. What are you going to do? I can see, of late, that you have been rather cold toward this enlistment proposition. Now that won’t do. If you want to wait for the draft, well and good. That’s your business, of course. But we’d hate to see you do it.”
“I should say so!” agreed Jerry. “I never dreamed of this. What does it all mean?”
“It’s his girl—Helena Schaeffer,” said Ned. “Isn’t it true, Bob, that she has spoken to you against volunteering?”
“Yes, she has, and that’s what makes me worry. I was going to keep still about it, and try to work everything out myself. But I don’t believe I can. You know— Oh, well, I’m awfully fond of Helena, and I think she likes me, a little. This is among friends, of course.”
“Of course,” murmured Jerry and Ned.
“And she’s as good as said that if I enlist to fight against Germany, when her father is so fond of the old Kaiser, and what he represents, that she’ll—well—she and I will have to part company, that’s all!” and Bob blurted out the words.
“What are you going to do?” and Ned asked the question relentlessly. This was no time for half-way measures, he felt.
Bob did not answer for a moment. They were talking in the street in front of Colonel Wentworth’s[63] office. And then, at what seemed a most opportune moment, a phonograph in a near-by store began playing one of the popular songs of the day; a song with the lilt of marching steps and an appeal for every one to do his duty and fight for Uncle Sam.
Bob straightened up. His eyes grew brighter and he squared his shoulders in a way his chums well know.
“Boys!” he exclaimed, “I’ve been a fool to hold back one minute on this thing. If you’ll wait a little while, I’ll come back and give you my answer. And you don’t have to guess what it is, either.”
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