Without a word Lane handed the paper back to his friend. "Red was a queer duck," said Blair, rather hoarsely. "You remember when I 'phoned you last over two weeks ago?... Well, just after that Red got bad on my hands. He wouldn't accept charity, he said. And he wanted to beat it. He got wise to my mother. He wouldn't give up trying to get money from the government--back money owed him, he swore--and the idea of being turned down at home seemed to obsess him. I talked and cussed myself weak. No good! Red beat it soon after that--beat it from Middleville on a freight train. And I never heard a word from him.... Not a word...." "Blair, can't you see it Red's way?" queried Lane, sadly. "Yes, I can," responded Blair, "but hell! he might have gotten well. Doc Bronson said Red had a chance. I could have borrowed enough money to get him out west. Red wouldn't take it." "And he ran off--exposed himself to cold and starvation--over-exertion and anger," added Lane. "Exactly. Brought on that hemorrhage and croaked. All for nothing!" "No, Blair. All for a principle," observed Lane. "Red was fired out of the hospital without a dollar. There was something terribly wrong." "Wrong?... God Almighty!" burst out Blair, with hard passion. "Let me read you something in this same paper." With shaking hands he unfolded it, searched until he found what he wanted, and began to read: "'If the _actual_ needs of disabled veterans require the expenditure of much money, then unquestionably a majority of the taxpayers of the country will favor spending it. Despite the insistent demand for economy in Washington that is arising from every part of the country, no member of House or Senate will have occasion to fear that he is running counter to popular opinion when eventually he votes to take generous care of disabled soldiers.'" Blair's trembling voice ceased, and then twisting the newspaper into a rope, he turned to Lane. "Dare, can you understand that?... Red Payson was a bull-headed boy, not over bright. But you and I have some intelligence, I hope. We can allow for the immense confusion at Washington--the senselessness of red tape--the callosity of politicians. But when we remember the eloquent calls to us boys--the wonderfully worded appeals to our patriotism, love of country and home--the painted posters bearing the picture of a beautiful American girl--or a young mother with a baby--remembering these deep, passionate calls to the best in us, can you understand _that_ sort of talk now?"