As our Master said, “I bring a sword”—
[At the window again.
Fine fellows those. Look at that boy there, third from the end. And that lieutenant. Strapping, wonderful fellows—with brains! That’s the great thing. Give me five hundred thousand of those and I’ll hold off all comers.
[With nervous acuteness.
How long d’ye think it’ll last?
Six months. Maybe a year.
You couldn’t, I suppose—say—more exactly?
[With a glance of suspicion.
How should I—before it’s even begun?
Oh—er—just a matter of curiosity.
At any rate, we’ll be back in time for the next presidential election. We’re coming back with the General on our shoulders, and when we drop him it’ll be through the skylight of the President’s house.
Don’t talk nonsense.
There’s nothing like a war to make a man President.
More and more and more of ’em. Bully lines. Not natty enough to be a joke, just straight and trim. Those fellows’ll carry you into the presidency, General, if anyone can. A few of ’em’ll have to choke first, but that’s fisherman’s luck.
That’ll do, Dave.
[A PAGE enters Right.
[Crossing the room.
Mr. Grosvenor? Mr. Grosvenor?
[Handing him a telegram.
[Still watching the soldiers.
They are happy.
I wonder which of ’em’ll come back, and which won’t.
[Who has torn open the yellow envelope, sinks back in his chair. To PAGE.