"You and your fussily thunderous wings!" he said, half aloud. "I wonder
if you think you're an aeroplane. Surely, they'd never train you to
evolute in squadrons. You are an anarchist, you are, and an epicurean
into the bargain!"

He went with his barrow for more bulbs. Meanwhile, the sun sank behind
the range. The plain lay bathed in soft, golden light; the ravines were
tongues of black shadow. As the evening gun boomed out from a fortress
on the Brown side of the frontier, Feller glanced around to see if any
one were watching. Assured that he was alone, he removed his hat, and,
though he wiped the brim and wiped his brow, in his attitude was the
suggestion of the military stance of attention at colors. A minute
later, when the evening gun of the Grays across the white posts
reverberated over the plain, he jammed his hat back on his head rather
abruptly and started to the tool house with his barrow.

"War! war!" he repeated softly. "Yes, war!" he added in eager desire.




IV

THE DIVIDENDS OF POWER


Westerling realized that the question of marriage as a social
requirement might arise when he should become officially chief of staff
with the retirement of His Excellency the field-marshal. For the present