any rate we must act as though they were until they convince us
otherwise."

Bob considered this good advice, but he still thought of his father's
words and his experience of that morning. "Suppose anything should happen
to father's steel works," he thought. They were making shells for the
Government and could afford to run no risks. "I'll see if I can be of any
help in protecting them," he told himself.

He tried to concentrate his mind on his tasks, but it seemed hopeless.
The words of the German in the trolley came back to him continually--"I
won't fight for Germany. I won't fight for the United States either, but
I'll fight all right." What could he have meant? Did he mean that he
wouldn't try to enlist in either the German or American armies, but that
he'd do his fighting on his own account? How could that be? Bob wondered
if the fighting he would do would be for this country or Germany. If for
this country, it seemed queer that the secret service officer should have
arrested him. The thought of bombs returned insistently to Bob's mind.

Recess came at last and he sought out Hugh Reith, his best friend. Hugh
was a boy of Bob's own age, almost exactly his size, and as they both
liked to do the same things they were bosom companions. Bob was light and
Hugh was dark, his hair was almost raven black, and his eyes a deep
brown. He had large hands and several crooked fingers owing to the fact
that he had broken them playing base ball. He was stronger than Bob,
though not so agile or quick on his feet, and while he could defeat his
light-haired friend in tests of strength he was not a match for him when
it came to speed.

"What do you think of this war, Hugh?" Bob asked eagerly.