"Out of my good, common horse-sense brain! You recall that story of the German Government confiscating the people's copper utensils and taking copper from the roofs of buildings, to keep up the manufacture of ammunition? Any school boy should have known that they didn't appropriate one copper pot, nor lift an inch of copper roofing, when the vast mines of Sweden pour their enormous output--not only of copper, but of unrivaled iron ore--in almost a continuous stream from Stockholm to Luebeck Bay; and von Capelle's fleet is there to see it safely across, too! The cry came forth that they were short of cotton for explosives--and that cry was sent out on the very day a national holiday had been proclaimed to celebrate their discovery of a method by which all types of high explosives can be made without cotton! Why, Amos, lying is a fine art with that government! I read in your own paper a long and pathetic ditty, cabled from Amsterdam, about 'starving Germany!' Don't you know that, with the millions of deported Belgians, Serbians, and Poles--to say nothing of the war prisoners--Germany should have this year a larger acreage under cultivation than at any time since the Confederation? They know how to farm intensively over there, and get their fertilizer, as they have already been getting their fats--from their own dead. These are but the beginnings of other things our common sense would teach us, were we not hypnotized with a morbid craving to swallow their neatly prepared fairy-tales!" "Roger," Mr. Strong sprang to his feet, "by the eternal, you speak inspired words! They _have_ poisoned us with lies of a starving Imperial Government; they'll continue to poison us with lies of an early peace--and then prepare fresh blows while we wallow in our self-complaisance! Open my columns? They'll blaze as columns of righteous fire!" Leaning forward, he added: "Why shouldn't we be getting ready here in Hillsdale? There's fine material for a company of militia! Will you join with me in equipping one?" The Colonel banged his hand down on the table. "Done!" he cried. "And there," the editor continued, pointing out of the window, "is the captain for it!" In an instant the Colonel was upon his feet, looking across the street to where his old friend pointed. "Jeb!--and Marian!" he added, his voice ringing with delight. "Which is going to be the captain, Amos?" he chuckled. "By Gad, they're coming up! He'll make a fine officer!" But Amos Strong was looking tenderly at the girl; then he turned and caught the Colonel's hand, crying: "Roger, we'll set the pace for every city and town throughout our country. We'll equip the company, so it'll be ready to go at the first crack--and Jeb will be a credit!" "One who'll capture hearts as well as Huns, I'll warrant--if he's not already a helpless prisoner!" The two old men looked at each other and smiled, and it was while they were in this attitude that Marian and Jeb entered.