Now follows a curious sequent. If, commercially, we want to expand the Empire, strategically we want to contract it. Our object is not to maintain an immense army to pursue a course of foreign wars, but to maintain law and order throughout the Empire and safeguard its existence. The fewer men we employ the less will the army cost, and, be it remembered, military expenditure during peace time is unremunerative. To contract the Empire is not to abandon large tracts of country, this is to cut the Gordian knot in place of unravelling it; but, instead, to move over it quicker than we can to-day. What we want to contract is time and not space, the time taken in moving over ground and particularly over roadless country. The roadless vehicle will help us to solve this problem. A battalion may march a hundred miles in a week, but if carried in roadless vehicles this distance can be multiplied by seven; and what is even more important, for long periods a line of communication can be dispensed with, because the battalion can carry supplies with it for several weeks. [Illustration: DAIMLER THREE-TON LORRY [_Face p. 90_ ] The main strategical importance of the roadless vehicle lies, however, in the fact that it will, by degrees, fill the Dominions and Colonies with virile men. Australia with a population of twenty-five millions has little to fear from Asiatic races; with fifty millions—nothing. All these changes and many others will be discovered in an Empire recreated by a little iron, a little thought, and much perseverance. THE WINGS OF PEGASUS The wings of Pegasus are the wings of imagination—that telescope of the mind which magnifies the glimpses of the future; and, once we have focussed these glimpses, we must bring them down to earth, and chart out their anatomy, so that we and others can set to work. Rudyard Kipling mounted Pegasus when he said: “When a nation is lost, the underlying cause of the collapse is always that she cannot handle her transport. Everything in life, from marriage to manslaughter, turns on the speed and cost at which men, things and thoughts can be shifted from one place to another. If you can tie up a nation’s transport, you can take her off your books.” Shifting of thought, this is our first need, for the Great War destroyed an epoch, yet we still hark back to this epoch. A new world requires new ideas, and in the first half of this little book I have shown how ideas, a hundred years ago, were throttled by the protean stupidity and ignorance of man. To-day, these vices continue, but in their senile forms of apathy and indolence. Every government is faced by trade depression, unemployment and the cost of security, yet each in turn, whether Liberal, Conservative or Labour, turns from these problems and deflates itself on some patent shibboleth—protection, free trade, capital levy, etc., etc., until it is pushed out of office by a blind, but aggravated country. [Illustration: