"That you go back to America, and arouse that great Continent to come and help us in this war for peace. I know your President professes to be a peace man. But think! You who could do so much to kill war, are standing by, supine and neutral, while we are shedding our blood to make war impossible. To me, it is the call of God to every young man and to every man who has health and strength, to give his life to kill this war devil at the heart of Europe. And I tell you this, until it is killed, your talk about peace will be so much wind and useless sound. America could, if she would, put an end to this war." "How?" cried the American. "By, raising an army of millions of men, well accoutred and armed and provisioned, to come over to help us. If America placed all her mighty weight on the side of England at this moment, it would paralyse the German Army. If America said, as we are saying, that this war should never cease until Germany was powerless ever to make war again, you would do more for peace than if all the talkers in America were to go round preaching peace. That is why, Quaker as I am, I am a soldier, and will remain a soldier as long as God gives me breath, to make peace not a dream, but a reality." "But what about the Sermon on the Mount, young man?" said the American. "What did our Lord mean," urged Bob, "when He said, 'I came not to bring peace but a sword?' And what did He mean when He said to His disciples, 'He that hath no sword, let him go and buy one?' Mind you, we do not hate the Germans in all this; we do not violate the command 'Love your enemy.' It would be the greatest blessing ever known to the German people if the Kaiser and all his war-fiends were crushed for ever, for then could peace be made possible." "Now, Nancarrow," said the doctor, "you have talked enough. You're getting excited as it is, and we want you back at the front." "I will say this," said the American, holding out his hand to Bob, "you have given me something to think about, and I will tell the Americans what you have said." CHAPTER XXII "Nancarrow, it's a nice day; it might be summer. I want you to get out." It was the doctor who spoke. "Yes, I know you feel weak, but one hour in the sunshine will do you more good than all the medicine ever invented." "I can hardly bear to move my arm yet," said Bob; "and I am as weak as a kitten." "Yes, I know; but, come, you must get out." Five minutes later Bob had been taken to a sheltered spot, where he sat rejoicing in the warm rays of the sun. Close by was the great barn-like building, in which many hundreds of wounded men lay, and where scores of brave women were giving their lives to nurse the men who had been fighting for their country. In the near distance, too, he saw several like himself who were convalescent, and who were drinking in the pure country air and rejoicing in the warm sunlight.