“I was up at four,” I whispered, as the applause died away and the governor began to speak.

The Governor of the State of Harpeth is a good and substantial man, who was himself born out on Paradise Ridge, and he had called in all of his people from their fields to talk to them about a problem so serious that the world of men, who had hitherto considered themselves as competent to guide the great national ship of state through peaceful waters, had been impelled to turn and call to council the men from the plows and reapers, to add their wisdom in deciding the best methods of safeguarding the nation.  His speech was a thoughtful presentation of the different methods of preparedness which the whole of America was weighing in the balance.  He explained the army policy, the Congressional policy, and then that of the State guard, and he asked them to weigh the facts well so that if it should come to the vote of the people of the nation, they would vote with instructed wisdom.

There was a strained gravity on all the listening faces, and I could see some of the women in the groups of farmer folk draw nearer against the shoulders of the men, who all sat with their arms along the back of the seats as Matthew sat beside me.  Young Mrs. Buford held the precious, limp, blue bundle much closer in her arms, and hid her head on the broad shoulder next her own, but on Mrs. Spain’s comely face I saw a light beginning to dawn as she proudly surveyed the four sturdy sons with shining faces who flanked her and Mr. Spain.

“And now,” said the governor, “I have asked you here to-night to introduce formally to you one of the great sons of Old Harpeth, who has come back from the world, with his wealth and honors and wisdom and science, into his own valley, to show us how to make the plowshare support the machine-gun with such power that the world will respect its silence more than any explosion.  A year or more ago he came home and asked me for his commission, and since then he has lived among you so as to become your friend, in hopes that he might be your chosen leader in this food mobilization.  Gentlemen and ladies of the Harpeth Valley, I present to you Mr. Evan Baldwin, who will speak to you to-night on the ‘Plowshare and the Machine-gun.’  Friends, Evan Adam Baldwin.”

For a second there was expectant silence, and then from the back of the platform from behind a group of State officials stepped—­my Pan!

For a long second the whole hall full of people held their breath in a tense uncertainty, because it was hard to believe in the broadcloth and fine linen in which he was clothed, but the brilliant hair, the ruffling crests, and the mocking, eery smile made them all certain by the second breath, which they gave forth in one long masculine hurrah mingled with a feminine echo of delight.  For several long minutes it would not be stilled as he stood and smiled down on them all and mocked them with his laugh mingling with theirs.