talked more of the war than they had in the autumn, though the subject
was not an all at absorbing one; for the trenches in Flanders and France
were still of the immense, remote distance. By no stretch of imagination
could these wet trenches be thought greatly to concern the "frat," the
Lumen, or the university. Really important matters were the doings of
the "Track Team," now training in the "Gym" and on the 'Varsity Field,
and, more vital still, the prospects of the Nine. But in May there came
a shock which changed things for a time.

The _Lusitania_ brought to every American a revelation of what had lain
so deep in his own heart that often he had not realized it was there.
When the Germans hid in the sea and sent down the great merchant ship,
with American babies and their mothers, and gallantly dying American
gentlemen, there came a change even to girls and boys and professors,
until then so preoccupied with their own little aloof world thousands of
miles from the murder.

Fred Mitchell, ever volatile and generous, was one of those who went
quite wild. No orator, he nevertheless made a frantic speech at the
week's "frat meetings," cursing the Germans in the simple old English
words that their performance had demonstrated to be applicable, and
going on to demand that the fraternity prepare for its own share in the
action of the country. "I don't care _how_ insignificant we few fellows
here to-night may seem," he cried; "we can do our little, and if
everybody in this country's ready to do their own little, why, that'll
be plenty! Brothers, don't you realize that all _over_ the United States
to-night the people are feeling just the way we are here? Millions and
millions and millions of them! Wherever there's an American he's _with_
us--and you bet your bottom dollar there are just a few more Americans
in this country of ours than there are big-mouthed lobsters like that