"The thing being to carry it out!" said Partow. "God with us!" he added devoutly. XV CLOSE TO THE WHITE POSTS Have you forgotten Hugo Mallin, humorist of Company B of the 128th Regiment of the Grays, whom we left in their barracks under orders for South La Tir on the afternoon that Westerling called on Marta Galland? Have you forgotten Eugene Aronson, the farmer's son, and Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, and pasty-faced little Peterkin, the valet's son, and the judge's son, and the other privates of the group that surrounded Hugo Mallin as he aired heresies that set them laughing? Through the press, an unconscious instrument of his purpose, the astute premier has inoculated them with the virus of militant patriotism. Day by day the crisis has become more acute; day by day the war fever has risen in their veins. Big Eugene Aronson believes everything he reads; his country can do no wrong. Jacob Pilzer is most bellicose; he chafes at inaction, while they all suffer the discomforts of an empty factory building in the rear of South La Tir which has become a temporary barracks. On Tuesday they hear of crowds around the Foreign Office demanding war, on Wednesday of panics on the stock exchanges, on Thursday of mobilization actually begun and a rigid press censorship established, and on Friday other regiments and guns and horses are detraining and departing right and left. Hurrying officers know nothing except what they have been told to do. "When do we start? What are we waiting for?" demanded Pilzer. "I want to be in the thick of the fighting and not trailing along with the reserves!" If any one in the 128th wins the bronze cross he means that it shall be he and not Eugene Aronson. "Never mind, you'll have a chance. There'll be war enough to go around, I am sure!" said Hugo Mallin. "More than you'll want!" Pilzer shot back, thrusting out his jaw. "I'm sure of that!" answered Hugo, the mask of his face drawn in quizzical solemnity. "I don't want any at all." This brought a tremendous laugh. All the laughs had been tremendous since mobilization had begun in earnest, and the atmosphere was like the suspense before a thunder-storm breaks. On Saturday evening the 128th was mustered in field accoutrements and a full supply of cartridges. In the darkness the first battalion marched out at right angles to the main road that ran through La Tir and South La Tir. At length Company B, deployed in line of skirmishers, lay down to sleep on its arms. "We wait here for the word," Fracasse, the captain, whispered to his senior lieutenant. "If it comes, our objective is the house and the old castle on the hill above the town." The tower of the church showed dimly when a pale moon broke through a cloud. By its light Hugo saw on his right Eugene's big features and massive shoulders and on his left the pinched and characterless features of Peterkin. A few yards ahead was a white stone post.