“The bigger the better,” declared Carter. “It takes a big job to wake us up.” The boy was surprised and encouraged by his father’s aggressive attitude, and yet when he ventured to reintroduce the subject of ambulance service he saw his father shy off again. He was puzzled by this and went away after lunch to meet his chum Stanley. A week later, as Carter was about to settle down on the front porch for an after-dinner smoke, Ben came along, took his arm and led him down the graveled path toward the road—out of sight of the house, where Mrs. Carter was washing the dishes. The boy kept his father’s arm in an unusually demonstrative manner until he stopped beneath an electric light. Then he asked quite casually: “Dad, got your fountain pen with you?” “Eh?” The lad held out a paper. “What in thunder is this?” demanded Carter. “My enlistment papers, dad. I went down to the Marine Recruiting Office the other day and passed my physical. Now—they’ve left a place along the dotted line for you to sign because I’m under age.” The thing that astonished Carter most after the initial shock was a feeling of helplessness. It was as though his relations with his son had suddenly changed and the son had become the father. He was a foot shorter than the boy anyway, and now he felt two feet shorter. He saw a new light in the boy’s eyes, heard a fresh note of dominance. And yet it was only a brief time ago—a pitifully brief time ago—that he had been holding this same boy in his arms as a baby. Now he stood at the lad’s mercy, even though he still saw below the stalwart figure of the boy-man the downy-headed baby. Carter gulped back a lump in his throat. “Good Lord!” he choked. “I can’t. I can’t. You’re all I’ve got.” The young man placed a steady hand upon his father’s shoulder. “You must take this thing right, dad,” he said firmly. “In another year——” “I’d never forgive myself if I waited,” cut in Ben. “I’ve heard too much from the fellows who’ve been over there and seen. I want you to understand that it isn’t the adventure of the thing that gets me. It’s the right of it. I’m strong enough for the game, and that’s all that counts. Another year wouldn’t make me any more fit.” “You’d be ready for Plattsburg—in a couple of years.” “Maybe,” Ben nodded; “but somehow—well, I just hanker to use my arms and legs rather than my head. The way I feel, nothing short of a chance with the bayonet will satisfy me. That’s why I went in for the Marines.” Carter glanced up. He saw those lips, which had once been so tender and soft, now sternly taut. “Have you told your mother?” asked Carter. “No, dad. I want it all settled first.” “I—I don’t know what it will do to her,” Carter struggled on feebly. “She’ll take it right,” declared the boy with conviction. “She’ll take it right because—because it’s for women like her that we’re going over there.”