"Yes," said Potter, "glad to show you around." He paused, and his eyes darkened. He fixed them on Cantor and said, suddenly, "You weren't fishing up at the Flats about the time I was hurt, were you--back in the marsh?" "Flats? No. What are the Flats, Mr. Waite?" Little points of white appeared at the comers of his jaw. Potter noticed them. "It's nothing. I guess you got mixed up in a dream of mine." "Dreams are queer," said Cantor, flatly. "Damn vivid dream, though," said Potter. "Come again, fellows. My regards to the crowd." CHAPTER VIII Between the date of Potter Waite's injury and the first of the new year tremendous events occurred at home and abroad, and among the most tremendous, the most hopeful to Potter, and to Americans who loved and feared for their country, was the birth of the thing that came to be known as the Plattsburg Idea. It was the one sign of life in an ocean of lethargy; it showed that there were men not unaffected by sinister manifestations--men who foresaw peril, men who were ready to give their abilities and their lives for the safety of the flag that waved over their prosperity. When history comes to be written the Plattsburg experiment will stand out distinct, significant--a rainbow of promise. Inert public opinion was preparing to stir. Germany, pursuing her relentless way, chose to irritate a nation which it might have conciliated. It irritated with patent propaganda; her Bernstorffs and Dernbergs filled the public prints with their sophistry, while their paid agents were fomenting industrial unrest and achieving arson and murder. German bombs were discovered on outward-bound vessels; the German torch was applied to factory and mill. Irritation increased, became acute to such a point that Doctor Dumba, who had used his sacred station as ambassador to shield his activities as arch plotter, was dismissed and sent on his disgraced way Vienna-wards. Von Papen and Boy-Ed, red-handed, were whisked away.... The _Arabic_ was sunk. Then it seemed that Germany hesitated on her course. Mr. Wilson patiently indited note upon note, at last wringing from the Imperial German government its solemn promise to refrain from sinking liners without warning. This was heralded and welcomed as a great victory for our diplomacy, and the country breathed more easily. The cloud threatening the thunders and lightnings of war passed around us harmlessly. But Mr. Roosevelt would not let the country return to its sleep. His alarm-voice rang in its ears, denouncing, demanding, stirring to wakefulness. The news from abroad had been depressing. For a year the western battle-front had stood stationary, presenting a stalemate. The heralded "big push" had failed, or what one might safely call failed. Russia was being beaten into helplessness with a million prisoners captured since May. Siberia had been stricken.