Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/198

WAR them. To the Dead March. With flags and flowers and troops of children, sobbing, sobbing. You know that not one who had died here in his bed would be so remembered. But you know, too, that all those who come back that way are our heroes—immortal;—yes, even when they come in gray! And you know that there is nothing on earth that will ever make you forget them. Tell me, each one of you, if you had to choose a form of death, wouldn't you choose that? Well, some day you must choose death. Come with me and choose one that is sweet and glorious beyond words!"

Still no one said a word.

"Of course it goes hard in a place where the Union element has been afraid, so far, to show its face. I appreciate that it is going to take courage for any man to walk up here and be spotted by the spies and informers, with the chance of some Knight assassinating him by command of the order. But, I tell you, the times have changed. We have settled down. We have thought. We have had war enough to 182