right time then, and the fool goes to the wall. In that one respect
war is better than some kinds of peace.

In the train on the way to Peshawur he did not talk any more volubly,
and a fellow traveler, studying him from the opposite corner of
the stifling compartment, catalogued him as "quite an ordinary man."
But he was of the Public Works Department, which is sorrowfully
underpaid and wears emotions on its sleeve for policy's sake,
believing of course that all the rest of the world should do the same.

"Don't you think we're bound in honor to go to Belgium's aid?" he
asked. "Can you see any way out of it?"

"Haven't looked for one," said King.

"But don't you think--"

"No," said King. "I hardly ever think. I'm in the army, don't
you know, and don't have to. What's the use of doing somebody else's
work?"

"Rotter!" thought the P.W.D. man, almost aloud; but King was not
troubled by any further forced conversation. Consequently he reached
Peshawur comfortable, in spite of the heat. And his genial manner
of saluting the full-general who met him with a dog-cart at Peshawur
station was something scandalous.

"Is he a lunatic or a relative or royalty?" the P.W.D. man wondered.

Full-generals, particularly in the early days of war, do not drive