Three days after Hal’s interview with Brownell, First Lieutenant Morosco sent in his resignation, it was promptly accepted, he was duly and honorably discharged, and he left the service of the Guard. In due time an order came down from the Governor, through his Adjutant-General, and the Brigadier-General commanding the brigade, to the Colonel of the ——th regiment, of the following tenor:

Whereupon an order of similar purport was directed by Colonel Wagstaff to Major Mowbray Huntington, directing him to proceed to Fairweather and hold such election in person. Notice of the coming election was posted in the armory ten days prior to the time set for it; and then the real campaign for the office began.

It had been taken for granted that Second Lieutenant Brownell would succeed to the first lieutenancy, and that First Sergeant Barriscale would be chosen to fill the office thus made vacant. But when Brownell declared that he was not a candidate for the office of first lieutenant, and would not accept the place if he were elected to it, discussion as to what ought to be done was rife at the armory.

Barriscale at once declared himself a candidate for the position, and argued that, in accordance with all the precedents of promotion, he was entitled to it. But there appeared to be a growing undercurrent of opposition to his candidacy. He had not yet become sufficiently popular with the enlisted men as a body to be their unanimous choice for any elective position of honor in the company. And those who opposed Barriscale’s election united, without exception, on Second Sergeant McCormack as their choice.

When Hal heard of the movement to elect him to the first lieutenancy he tried his best to put a stop to it. He insisted that he was not a candidate, that he was well satisfied with his present position, and that at the end of his term of enlistment—and he had now less than a year to serve—he fully intended to leave the Guard. He besought his particular friends in the company to aid him in putting an end to the movement in his behalf, but, although presumably they complied with his wish, it would not down. Enlisted men came to him and begged him to reconsider his decision. Civilians met him on the street and urged him to stand for the election. To every one he turned a deaf ear. He knew what his reasons were for declining; to him they were good and sufficient; he had made up his mind and that was the end of it.

Brownell besieged him again and again.

“Hal,” he said, “you must be reasonable and accommodating and give us a chance at least to vote for you. If you don’t run Ben will have no opposition; and if he’s elected, heaven help us! there’ll be no living with him!”

“I’ve already told you,” replied McCormack, “that I want to do everything on earth I can for you, because you’ve been very good to me; but I can’t do that. I like the military life. In a way it’s splendid and thrilling. It’s the fascination of it that makes it dangerous. There can be no greater menace to the liberties of a people or to the peoples of the world than the spirit and practice of militarism. Look at Germany, dominated, burdened and brutalized by her military machine, and striving, with no indifferent success, at the cost of millions of lives and seas of blood, to put every nation in Europe under her boot and spur. I tell you, Joe, I’m not a good enough soldier, nor a good enough patriot, to take a commission in the National Guard.”

At that Brownell became vexed and impatient.

“It’s just because Germany,” he declared, “has run amuck among civilized nations, like a wild beast, that she must be subdued like a wild beast, with powder and steel; and unless I lose my guess, the day is not far distant when we as a nation have got to pitch in and help subdue her. In a time like this, Hal McCormack, you can’t leave the Guard without disgracing yourself, and you can’t turn down a commission without doing a gross injustice to every one of your comrades in arms.”

But Sergeant McCormack was obdurate, and Brownell accomplished nothing in any interview.

And then, three days after the notice had been posted, Sarah Halpert sent for her nephew. She always had to send for him when she wanted particularly to see him. She declared that when anything especially important was on, he studiously avoided her society.

“It’s not that I’m so particularly anxious to see you first lieutenant,” she said to him. “I don’t give a rap which one of you is elected. It’s your lack of spirit that I deplore. To think that you, the son of your father, and the grandson of your grandfather, should talk about sneaking out of the Guard when your time’s up; and then to think that you should become a regular slacker just to avoid a contest for an honorable office! Hal McCormack, I’m ashamed of you and disgusted with you! There!”

“But, Aunt Sarah,” protested Hal, “I don’t want the office; why should I fight for it? I don’t want to be a lieutenant, nor a major, nor a brigadier-general. I’m satisfied to be a second sergeant in the company, and a private in the army of the world’s workers for peace when my term of enlistment is out.”

“Now, stop that pacifist, socialistic nonsense! This is no time for it. The thing for you to do is to prove that you’ve got red blood in your veins, as you have. If your mother had one particle of spunk in her, which she never did have, she’d make you go without your dinners till you come to your senses. Now do as I tell you; stand for that election. Show the kind of stuff that’s in you. Fight for it to the last ditch.”

Hal knew there was no use of arguing with his Aunt Sarah, and he did not try to reason with her further. But when he left her she had not convinced him that it was his duty to seek the office of first lieutenant.

Among those who besought him to become a candidate, perhaps the hardest one to refuse was Chick, or, as he had come to be known since the evening when, in a spirit of wrath and contempt, Barriscale gave him the title, General Chick. For Hal had no greater admirer, and no more devoted follower in the company, nor indeed in the whole city, than Chick Dalloway.

It was at the armory just prior to the Thursday evening drill that Chick said to him:

“I couldn’t stay in the company no longer if Sergeant Barriscale was elected first lieutenant.”

“Why not, Chick?” asked Hal.

“Oh, he’d lord it over everybody,” was the reply. “He’s bad enough as first sergeant. I don’t know what he would be if he was first lieutenant. You’ve got to run, Sergeant ’Cormack; you’ve simply got to run. We’ll see that you’re ’lected, all right. I’ll work my hands an’ feet off, an’ my head, too. An’ they’s plenty more of us’ll do the same thing. I know. I’ve heard the boys talk. Won’t you run, Sergeant ’Cormack?”

“No, Chick. I’m sorry to disappoint you; I’m awfully sorry; but I can’t run. It—it wouldn’t be quite right for me to run, Chick, feeling as I do about certain things.”

“What things, Sergeant ’Cormack?”

“I’ll tell you some time. In the meantime you stay with the company and take whatever comes, and make the best of it, like a good soldier.”

“All right! if you say so I will.”

The assembly was sounding, the men were taking their places in the ranks, and Sergeant McCormack hurried away to the fulfilment of his duties.

It was after the drill was over and the company had been dismissed, and while Hal stood talking to a little group of his friends on the drill floor, endeavoring not only to dissuade them from putting forth any efforts in his behalf as a candidate, but also to smother, if possible, any efforts that might be put forth by others, that Barriscale approached him. This was an unusual thing for the first sergeant to do. Heretofore the two men had been “on official terms,” that was all. Outside the ranks the second sergeant had been studiously ignored by the orderly. It was something of a surprise, therefore, when Barriscale came up and asked Hal for the privilege of speaking to him a moment in private. The request was willingly granted, and the two men walked away to a remote corner of the drill-hall. When they were well out of ear-shot of the others Barriscale said:

“The reason I want to speak to you is that I want to know your real attitude concerning this election. I want to get it straight. Do you propose to stand for the election or don’t you?”

Notwithstanding the somewhat imperative form of the question, and the somewhat domineering manner of the questioner, Hal replied good-naturedly:

“There’s no secret about my attitude. I’ve said over and over again that I’m not a candidate.”

“I know you’ve said so. But what I want to know is whether or not you mean it?”

Hal looked down at him in surprise.

“Why do you ask such a question as that?” he said.

“Because it’s come to me pretty straight that all this talk about your not running is simply to pull the wool over my eyes, catch me off my guard, make me think I’ll have no opposition, and come in at the last minute with a whirlwind campaign and sweep me off my feet. If there’s any game of this kind on foot I want to know it.”

For a moment Hal was too greatly shocked and too deeply amazed to reply. He could not quite understand why he should be accused of such trickery.

“Would you suspect me,” he said at last, “of being guilty of playing this kind of politics?”

“I don’t know,” replied Barriscale bluntly. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you two years ago; but it’s said that a man is no better than the company he keeps. And the crowd you’ve been running with lately will bear watching every hour of the twenty-four. But that is neither here nor there. What I want to know is whether you are going to stand as a candidate for the first lieutenancy?”

At last Sergeant McCormack’s wrath was roused.

“Do you think,” he asked angrily, “that your insolent manner and language entitle you to that information?”

“I think,” was the equally angry reply, “that I was a fool to expect decent treatment from a Guardsman who has no respect for his country or his flag.”

With other men, in other surroundings, the next thing would have been blows. But these men were soldiers, and this was the armory, and it was inconceivable that the place should witness such a physical encounter as befits only the barroom or the slums. Simultaneously the two men turned on their heels and started back across the hall. But another thought came into Barriscale’s mind and he swung around and again faced his rival.

“I want to give you notice now,” he declared savagely, “that if you do oppose my election, either with your own or any one else’s candidacy, I shall file charges against you and demand your dismissal from the Guard.”

Suddenly Hal seemed to have recovered his composure.

“Indeed!” he inquired calmly. “On what ground?”

“On the ground of disloyalty to the Guard and treason to the flag.”

“So! And if I don’t oppose you?”

“Then I’ll let you alone, as I have done. And when your time’s up you can get out of the service quietly, without disgrace.”

“I see. In other words you would buy me off.”

“Call it what you choose. I’ve no doubt you’re purchasable.”

McCormack came a step closer to the first sergeant and looked him squarely in the eyes.

“Barriscale,” he said quietly, “I have decided to be a candidate for the office of first lieutenant of Company E.”

So the die was cast. The contest was on. Threats, insolence and insult had accomplished what the entreaties of friends and relations had failed to bring about.

When Lieutenant Brownell was told of Hal’s decision to stand as a candidate he was delighted beyond measure. He said little openly, but the grip of the hand that he gave the second sergeant when he saw him, meant more than words.

As for Sarah Halpert, when she heard of it she ordered her car to be brought to the door, and she went at once to see Hal’s mother. She swept into the little house like a west wind, and caught her sister in her arms and kissed her twice.

“You’ve got a boy now,” she said, “that you can be proud of. He’s turned out to be a real McCormack after all. He’s got soldier blood in his veins.”

“I’m afraid so,” sighed little Mrs. McCormack. “I’m sorry he got into it. From what Hal says it’s going to be a fight, and I do hate fights.”

Sarah Halpert’s eyes snapped.

“Why, you miserable little pacifist!” she exclaimed. “Don’t you know that you’ve got this splendid country to live in because some one was willing to fight for it? Don’t you know that the only hope for civilization in the world to-day lies in the fact that red-blooded men by the millions are willing to face the German beast on the battle-field? You just get down on your knees and thank God that you’ve got a boy who isn’t afraid to go into a fight, either of bullets or of ballots!”

And she swept out of the house with even more vim than she had entered it.

She didn’t send for Hal this time. She didn’t want to see him. She was afraid he might put a stop to her electioneering activities. But if there was another enlisted man in Company E whom she did not interview on the subject of the approaching election it was because, after diligent search, she couldn’t possibly find him.

When Hal heard about it he went to her and protested.

“For goodness’ sake, Aunt Sarah,” he exclaimed, “stop it!”

“Stop what?” she inquired, with assumed innocence.

“This electioneering business. You’re queering the whole thing. It’s one of the unwritten rules of the service that ‘military merit alone gives any right to claim military preferment.’ The idea of a man’s aunt making him ridiculous by going around soliciting votes for him from every member of the company!”

“Well,” she replied, “you needn’t go into a decline over it. I couldn’t raise a promise out of a single mother’s son of ’em!”

“Of course you couldn’t. It’s one of the unwritten rules of the service that an enlisted man shall not tell for whom he is going to vote in a company election.”

“There you go with your ‘unwritten rules’ again. What do I care for ‘unwritten rules,’ or written ones either for that matter? You’ve got to win this election; and if you do win it, somebody’s got to electioneer for you. You’re positively no good at all at soliciting votes for yourself.”

“I know. I don’t want to be elected as a result of soliciting votes for myself. I want to be elected on my merit as a soldier, or not at all.”

“Fiddlesticks! You haven’t the faintest conception of your duty to yourself. Why, Ben Barriscale is pulling every string he can get his fingers on. His father and his mother and his sister and his sweetheart are all out campaigning for him with bells on. Somebody’s got to do something for you, young man, or you’ll get left as sure as your name’s Halpert McCormack!”

But, at the end of the interview, impressed with Hal’s argument against her undue activities, she promised to be more circumspect in the promotion of his cause, and he had to be satisfied with that.

Sergeant McCormack had expressed a wish that there should be no open propaganda in his behalf. He felt that an aggressive fight might develop into a bitter one, and that such a campaign would not be “for the good of the service.”

But Sergeant Barriscale was not so considerate or conscientious. From the moment when Hal informed him that he would be a candidate he knew that he had a real fight on his hands and he set about the marshaling of his forces. He brought to bear in his favor every influence of which he, or any member of his family, or any civilian friend, was possessed. He used every possible argument against Sergeant McCormack’s promotion to the first lieutenancy that he or any of his supporters could think of. He denounced the patent unfairness of any one being permitted to jump two grades over the head of a present deserving superior officer. He characterized his opponent as a socialist, a radical, a dreamer, a pacifist, a nondescript citizen hesitating on the border of absolute disloyalty to his government in a time when virile patriotism was needed as never before. All the resources of political skill were resorted to to circumvent his rival.

Under these conditions it was impossible to confine interest in the campaign to the rank and file of Company E. The whole city was stirred with the contest. Partisans arose on every hand. The life of the citizen soldier was not a happy one. He was besieged from all quarters. To some of them the European battle line would have been far to be preferred. Yet it was generally conceded that the chances, if the word could properly be used when the outcome had been figured with such mathematical precision, favored Sergeant Barriscale. He had more powerful friends, he was a more aggressive fighter, he handled every detail of the campaign with far more skill and thoroughness than did his opponent.

On the evening before the election the contest reached its apparent climax. It was not a drill night, but a score or more of the enlisted men had gathered at the armory, and were standing or sitting in groups about the drill-hall.

At nine o’clock Sergeant Barriscale came in. He came with a confident stride, and a look of contentment on his face.

“It’s all over,” he said, “but the shouting. Giving McCormack the benefit of every doubtful vote, I shall win by a clear majority of seven.”

General Chick, standing in the group that had gathered about the candidate, heard him. It was not a pleasant thing for Chick to hear. His whole heart had been set on the success of Sergeant McCormack. Daytime and night-time, in season and out of season, whether he met with rebuff, ridicule or condescension, he exploited the virtues of and solicited votes for his beloved candidate. To have Barriscale now, on the eve of the election, declare with such an air of confidence that he was sure to win out, was more than Chick could stand.

“That ain’t so!” he shouted, shrilly. “You’re licked, and you know it!”

The first sergeant’s face reddened, and the eyes he turned on the boy were blazing with wrath.

“You insignificant little runt!” he cried, “how dare you speak to me!”

He faced the other way as if in disgust at the incident, and then he faced back again to say to the amazed and amused listeners:

“I want to give notice now that when this thing is all over, no matter which way it goes, I shall take measures to rid the armory and the company of this pestiferous, boot-licking dog-robber.”

And General Chick replied gamely:

“Jest try it on! I come into this comp’ny long before you did, and I’ll be in it with a major-gen’al’s commission long after you’ve been invited to git out.”

The crowd laughed, and the incident was closed, but Barriscale’s confident boast that he would be elected by a majority of seven votes had sunk deep into Chick’s heart, and he felt that something must be done immediately to try to save the day.