"That I'm going into the ranks, and see if I am a coward--" he paused
and scowled--"it looked like it yesterday for a while, and my
curiosity's aroused. Besides, the country happens to need me."
"Rubbish," the editor cried, "the country will get all the men it needs
without you. You're a trained newspaper man. We need you here."
"Thanks. My mind's made up. I'm going to Missouri and raise a company."
The chief laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Don't be a fool. Stand by the
ship. I'll put your damned story in just as you wrote it if that's what
hurts."
John flushed and shook his head:
"But it isn't. You may be right about the stuff. If I were editor I'd
kill it myself. No. My dander's up. I want a little taste of the real
thing. I saw enough yesterday to interest me. The country's calling and
I've got to go."
The boys crowded around him and shook hands. From the door he waved his
good-bye and they shouted in chorus:
"Good luck!"
Arrived at his room, he wrote a note to Betty Winter. He read it over
and it seemed foolishly cold and formal. He tore it up and wrote a
simpler one. It was flippant and a little presumptuous. He destroyed
that and decided on a single line:
"MY DEAR MISS BETTY:
"Can I see you a few minutes before leaving to-night?
"JOHN VAUGHAN.
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