“There’s a man down in Washington,” he said in his gentle, reasonable voice, “with a hard job on his hands. He has a lot of decisions to make every day. We newspaper men have the same kind of decisions, but where ours affect a few thousands, his affect a hundred millions. From now on he’s going to have bigger decisions put up to him. He can lift his hand and there’ll be war to-morrow, and six months from to-morrow there’ll be thousands of us back home here in mourning. It’s a hard decision, Mr. Robson. You and I did our best to beat the President for election. We’ve differed from him in many things. But this is n’t politics. It’s something else now. And, knowing what he’s got to face, I don’t feel exactly like yelling in the President’s ears.” He resumed his glasses. “Seen the Governor since your editorial?” “No. He’s up at his home in Spencerville.” “It’s going to be put up to him pretty hard, too. Your outbreak is responsible.” “How?” “The German legislative outfit in Bellair,” said Kimball, who had an uncanny knack of knowing things before they were ready to be known, “is cooking up a bill to offset your editorial. They intend to put the State on record. The bill will call on the President and Congress to declare that any American sailing on a ship of a belligerent nation forfeits all right to the protection of his own country.” “What will The Journal do about that?” “Fight it.” “Can we beat it?” “No. But the Governor can.” “Will he?” “Ah! What do you think? You’re closer to him than any one else.” Jeremy shook his head. “Not on the war. I don’t even know what he’s thinking, most of the time. Your paper has more influence with him than The Guardian. If I could think of Martin Embree as being afraid of anybody, I’d say he was a little afraid of The Journal.” “Of course, he doesn’t want to lose us,” answered Kimball reflectively. “He can’t afford to lose us. But there isn’t much danger of that.” He rose. “I’ll send you a word before the bill is ready. They intend to spring it suddenly.” Jeremy thanked him, and after he had left, sat down to think out the Governor’s situation. He could appreciate its perplexities. He could foresee that Embree would blame him for stirring up dissension unnecessarily, when he might have held his peace. Therefore he was prepared for a difficult interview when, on the Governor’s return, he was invited to lunch with him. But “Smiling Mart’s” smile was as open and friendly as ever. “You dipped your pen in earthquake and eclipse that time, my boy,” he observed. “I had to speak out or blow up, Martin.” “Therefore you did both. Up in the Northern Tier you’re not precisely popular.” “No. The circulation reports show that. We’re getting two or three dozen stop-the-paper orders from there per day.” “I’ve done my best for you, there. But I can’t hold the more rabid elements. There’s one saving grace, though.” “That’s--?” “You’ve gone no further than criticism. You didn’t even hint at war.”