“I don’t know,” replied Floyd thoughtfully. “The idea of Peace does not particularly appeal to me in my present frame of mind. More than three quarters of a million of my fellow-countrymen have been killed during the past four years—most of them in their early twenties—and at my time of life I feel almost ashamed to be alive. And the idea of ‘settling down’ does not altogether attract me, either. As you very rightly observe, Colonel, the community may benefit by a good searching war, but, by God! individuals suffer. Especially if they happen to be of that misguided type which hastens to get into the scrap first, while wiser persons are deciding whether to volunteer or be fetched. That was when I lost my friends—in nineteen-fourteen and fifteen. That stratum of our community has almost ceased to exist. My own Battalion has been replaced—which means wiped out—thirteen times in four years, and I, even I, only am left. So I view the prospect of settling down with mixed feelings. Tell us how _you_ propose to spend the first day of the Armistice, Colonel—when it comes!” “I?” said the Colonel. “I shall start by sending a cable to the best little woman in America, in a little town in Tennessee that you never heard of, Major; telling her that I have come through, and that she and the bunch of marauders that belong to both of us—we have two boys and two girls—can quit worrying. Then I shall sit down and amplify my sentiments in a letter. But I am old and sentimental. What will you do, Jim Nichols?” “I guess I’ll muster the Battalion,” replied the newly promoted and zealous second in command, “and have them clean up their rifles and equipment. They’re in a terrible mess, after the time we’ve been having.” “Well, well! We’ll try some one less wedded to his duty!” laughed the Colonel. “What will you do, boy?” He turned to the youthful aviator. Master Harvey Blane meditated. He had twice been wounded, once brought down in flames, and several times driven down out of control. “I guess,” he said at last, “I shall go along down to the airdrome, and order out my machine, and have the boys tune her up very carefully. Then I shall have her wheeled out, and I shall climb on board and test all the contacts. Then I shall run the engine for a spell, and maybe take a turn around the airdrome, along the ground. Then I shall load up with bombs. Then I shall look up in the sky, and say: ‘Boys, I don’t think after all I feel like going out to-day. Run her back and put her to bed!’” There was appreciative laughter at this, and Floyd said: