"Then you do acknowledge it's not the greatest struggle in history--that's something to be thankful for in these days of patriotism," exclaimed Norman, rising and stretching himself before the open fire while he winked mischievously at Elena. "It's big enough, my boy, to show us the truth about our nation. Our old problems are no longer real. The Union our fathers dreamed has come at last. We are one people--one out of many--and we can whip Spain before breakfast----" "With one hand tied behind our back!" laughed the boy. "Yes, and blindfolded. It will be easy. But the next serious job will be to bury a half million deluded fools in this country who call themselves Socialists." The Colonel paused and a look of foreboding clouded his face as he gazed from the window of his house on Nob Hill over the city of San Francisco, which he loved with a devotion second only to his passionate enthusiasm for the Union. Elena sat watching him in silent sympathy. He was the one perfect man of her life dreams, the biggest, strongest, tenderest soul she had ever known. Since the day she crept into his arms a lonely little orphan ten years old she had worshipped him as father, mother, guardian, lover, friend--all in one. She had accepted Norman's love and promised to be his wife more to please his father than from any overwhelming passion for the handsome, lazy young athlete. It had come about as a matter of course because Colonel Worth wished it. The Colonel turned from the window, and his eyes rested on Elena's upturned face. "It will be bloody work--but we've got to do it----" Elena sprang to her feet with a start and a laugh. "Do what, Guardie? I forgot what you were talking about." "Then don't worry your pretty head about it, dear. It's a job we men will look after in due time." He stooped and kissed her forehead. "By-by until to-night--I'll drop down to the club and hear the latest from the front." With the firm, swinging stride of a man who lives in the open the Colonel passed through the door of the library. "Norman, I can't realize that you two are father and son--he looks more like your brother." "At least my older brother----" "Yes, of course, but you would never take him for a man of forty-eight. I like the touch of gray in his hair. It means dignity, strength, experience. I've always hated sap-headed youngsters." "Say, Elena, for heaven's sake, who are you in love with anyhow--with me or the Governor?" A smile flickered around the corners of the girl's eyes and mouth before she slowly answered: "I sometimes think I really love you both, Norman--but there are times when I have doubts about you." "Thanks. I suppose I must be duly grateful for small favours, or else resign myself to call you 'Mother.'" "Would such a fate be intolerable?" Elena drew her magnificent figure to its full height and looked into the young athlete's face with laughing audacity.