Red Fleece | Page 8

a private and
public nuisance, when allowed to feed too long alone on the strong diet
of his own convictions.... An hour sped by. Fallows replenished the fire
and turned to Berthe Solwicz.
"All evening you've had something in your mind to tell me and I've
been giving forth. You must forgive a man for so many words--when
he has been living with little children so long. What is it?"
"Just a reading of a tea-cup to-day--but everything you said has its
meaning concerned in it."
"I'm almost as interested in tea-cups as in the stars," said Fallows.
"You know a toy-bear, such as the Germans make?"
"Yes--"
"Well, it would have been like that--if one were thinking of toys. We
thought of the Russian Bear. It was perfect--in the bottom of the cup
--standing up, walking like a man--huge paunch, thick paws held out

pathetically, legs stretched out, just as he would be, rocking, you
know--"
Fallows bowed seriously. Mowbray turned his smile to the shadows.
"Near him," Berthe added, "was a Russian soldier--perfect--fur cap,
high boots, tightly belted, very natty--more perfect than we see in the
streets, as if drawn from ideal. He was stabbing the bear with a long
pole, leisurely--"
"It was a rifle and bayonet," said Peter. "We both saw it, but didn't
speak until now. He was churning the bayonet around in the great
paunch as if feeling for the vitals. The bear looked large and helpless."
Fallows' bronzed head had sunk upon his chest. His eyes, red with
firelight, seemed lost to all expression. "I was thinking it would happen
in Germany first," he said.
A moment afterward he added: "There's a time when a man wants to
die for what he believes, and another time when he's afraid he will die
before he gets a chance to make his life count."
Again he paused, and then looked up to Mowbray. "It's a good omen.
That's the real war.... And was it your cup?"
"Yes."
"You say that you are going out for the Galician service?"
"Yes, possibly with Kohlvihr's column."
"You will see much service," said Fallows. "That used to be our dream
--to see service. It will be easier seen with the Russians. They are not so
modern in method as the French or Germans, or even the Japanese. Of
course, war is the same. The nation at the end will win on the fields, not
in the skies. The sky fulfillment is reserved for a better utility than war.
But war belongs under the sea.... You will not be suppressed so rigidly
with the Russians. You will see the side of the war which will have the

most bearing on the future. I do not believe France and Germany are in
the future as Russia is--"
"And England?" Peter asked quickly.
"The key to that is the wealth of the Indies--as of yore."
"You mean if India remains loyal?"
"If India remains under the yoke."
"But, if Britain should preserve her tenure in India with the Japanese
troops--" Peter suggested.
Fallows shuddered. "As yet I can see no philosophy under heaven to
cover that."
"And you think Britain and Russia are enemies in spite of this
alliance?"
"Enemies, temperamental and structural--enemies, past and future."
Peter recurred to this point: "You think that India would not remain
loyal if she had arms?"
"I was in a little village of the Punjab two years ago," Fallows replied,
"and there was a lad of sixteen there, wonderful in promise-- a mind, a
spirit. They could not raise in the village enough money to send him
across the seas steerage for his education. A single rifle costs nearly
three pounds. It is hard for us to realize how poor India is."
Peter stood fast against this in his mind; his intellect would not accept....
"Are you going to take the field again, Mr. Fallows?"
"Not in a newspaper way. I shall nurse wounded soldiers. At least they
have accepted me.... These are fearful and amazing days. We have all
been in a kind of long feeding dream, like the insects, accumulating
energy and terrible power for these days. Such death as we shall see!"

There was silence.
"I wonder how they are taking it in America?" Fallows mused.
"Doubtless as an opportunity for world-trade," said Peter.
"Oh, I hope not!" the exile said passionately. "There must be another
America."
Fallows placed his hands on Berthe's shoulders, looking down: "You
make me think of a young woman I once knew," he said. "Not that you
look like her--but that you have the same zeal for something.... You are
a very true daughter of your father--"
"You knew him?" she said huskily.
"We all knew him--we who dare to think we look ahead. When he died,
his courage came