"Hush, Mabel," said Ethel sharply. "Don't be silly."

But the word had been spoken and as a seed it fell upon fertile soil.

The launch went off with the children waving their flags and cheering.

And again upon those left upon the dock the shadow settled heavier than before. That was the way with that shadow. It was always heavier, thicker, more ominous after each interlude of relief.

It was the same at the bonfire in the evening at the Rushbrookes'.

The island was a fairy picture of mingling lights and shadows. As the flaming west grew grey, the pale silver of the moon, riding high and serene, fell upon the crowding, gaily decked launches that thronged the docks and moored to the sh.o.r.e; upon the dark balsams and silver birches hung with parti-coloured gaudy Chinese lanterns; upon the groups of girls, fair and sweet in their white summer camping frocks, and young men in flannels, their bare necks and arms showing brown and strong; upon little cl.u.s.ters of their fathers and mothers gravely talking together. From the veranda above, mingling with the laughing, chattering voices, the alluring strains of the orchestra invited to waltz, or fox trot. As the flame died from the western sky and the shadows crept down from the trees, the bonfire was set alight. As the flame leaped high the soft strains of the orchestra died away. Then suddenly, clear, full and strong, a chord sounded forth, another, and then another. A hush fell upon the chattering, laughing crowd. Then as they caught the strain men lolling upon the ground sprang to their feet; lads stood at attention.

"Send him victorious,"

some one sang timidly, giving words to the music. In one instant a hundred throats were wide open singing the words:

"Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us, G.o.d save our King."

Again the chords sounded and at once the verse from the first was sung again.

"G.o.d save our gracious King, Long live our n.o.ble King, G.o.d save our King, Send him victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us, G.o.d save our King."

As the last note died Ramsay Dunn leaped upon a huge boulder, threw up his hand and began,

"In days of yore, from Britain's sh.o.r.e."

A yell greeted him, sudden, fierce, triumphant, drowned his voice, then ceased! And again from a hundred throats of men and women, boys and girls, the words rang out,

"There may it wave, our boast and pride, And joined in love together, The thistle, shamrock, rose entwine, The Maple Leaf forever."

Again and again and once again they followed Ramsay in the quick, shrill Canadian cheer that was to be heard in after days in places widely different and far remote from that gay, moonlit, lantern-decked, boat-thronged, water-lapped island in that far northern Canadian lake.

Following the cheers there came stillness. Men looked sheepishly at each other as if caught in some silly prank. Then once more the Spectre drew near. But this time they declined not to look, but with steady, grave, appraising eyes they faced The Thing, resolute to know the worst, and in quiet undertones they talked together of War.

The bonfire roared gloriously up through the dark night, throwing far gleams out upon the moonlit waters in front and upon the dark woods behind. The people gathered about the fire and disposed themselves in groups upon the sloping, gra.s.sy sward under the trees, upon the shelving rocks and upon the sandy sh.o.r.e.

But Mr. Murray had business on hand. In company with Dr. Brown and the minister, Mr. McPherson, he sought his host. "Would it be possible, Mr. Rushbrooke," he said, "to gather a number of business men here together?"

"What for?" inquired Rushbrooke.

"Well, I may be all wrong," said Mr. Murray apologetically, "but I have the feeling that we ought without delay to discuss what preliminary steps should be taken to meet with the critical conditions brought on by the war."

"But, Mr. Murray," cried Mrs. Rushbrooke, who was standing by her husband's side, "they are all so happy it would seem a great pity to introduce this horrible thing at such a time."

"Do you really think it necessary, Murray?" said Mr. Rushbrooke, who was an older man than Mr. Murray, and who was unwilling to accede to him any position of dominance in the business world of Winnipeg. "There's really nothing we can do. It seems to me that we must keep our heads and as far as possible prevent undue excitement and guard against panic."

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Rushbrooke. The thought in my mind was that we ought to get a meeting together in Winnipeg soon. But everybody is away. A great many are here at the Lake; it seemed a good opportunity to make some preliminary arrangement."

"My dear Mr. Murray," said Mrs. Rushbrooke, "I cannot help feeling that you take this too seriously, besides there can hardly be need for such precipitate action. Of course, we are at war, and Canada will do her part, but to introduce such a horrible theme in a company of young people seems to me to be somehow out of place."

"Very well, Mrs. Rushbrooke, if you say so. I have no desire to intrude," said Mr. Murray.

"But, Mr. Rushbrooke, the thing has to be faced," interposed Mr.

McPherson. "We cannot shut our eyes to the fact of war, and this is the supreme fact in our national life to-day. Everything else is secondary."

"Oh, I do not agree with you, Mr. McPherson," said Mrs. Rushbrooke, taking the word out of her husband's mouth. "Of course war is terrible and all that, but men must do their work. The Doctor here must continue to look after his sick, Mr. Murray has his business, you must care for your congregation."

"I do not know about that, Mrs. Rushbrooke," said the minister. "I do not know about that at all."

"Why, Mr. McPherson, you surprise me! Must not my husband attend to his business, must not the Doctor look after his patients?"

A number of men had gathered about during the course of the conversation. "No," said Mr. McPherson, his voice ringing out in decided tones. "There is only one 'must' for us now, and that is War. For the Empire, for every man, woman, and child in Canada, the first thing, and by comparison the only thing, is War."

That dread word rang out sharp, insistent, penetrating through the quiet hum of voices rising from the groups about the fire. By this time a very considerable number of men present had joined themselves to the group about the speakers.

"Well, Mr. Murray," said Mr. Rushbrooke, with a laugh, "it seems to me that we cannot help it very well. If you wish to discourse upon the war, you have your audience and you have my permission."

"It is not my intention to discourse upon the war, Mr. Rushbrooke, but with your permission I will just tell our friends here how my mind has worked since learning this terrible news this morning. My first impulse was to take the first train to Winnipeg, for I know that it will be necessary for me to readjust my business to the new conditions created by war. My second thought was that there were others like me; that, in fact, the whole business public of Winnipeg would be similarly affected.

I felt the need of counsel so that I should make no mistake that would imperil the interests of others. I accepted Mrs. Rushbrooke's invitation to come to-night in the hope of meeting with a number of the business men of Winnipeg. The more I think of it the more terrible this thing becomes. The ordinary conditions of business are gone. We shall all need to readjust ourselves in every department of life. It seems to me that we must stand together and meet this calamity as best we can, wisely, fairly and fearlessly. The main point to be considered is, should we not have a general meeting of the business men of Winnipeg, and if so, when?"

Mr. Murray's words were received in deep silence, and for a time no one made reply. Then Mr. Rushbrooke made answer.

"We all feel the importance of what Mr. Murray has said. Personally, though, I am of the opinion that we should avoid all unnecessary excitement and everything approaching panic. The war will doubtless be a short one. Germany, after long preparation, has decided to challenge Great Britain's power. Still, Britain is ready for her. She has accepted the challenge; and though her army is not great, she is yet not unprepared. Between the enemy and Britain's sh.o.r.es there lies that mighty, invisible and invincible line of defence, the British navy. With the French armies on the one side and the Russian on the other, Germany can not last. In these days, with the terrible engines of destruction that science has produced, wars will be short and sharp. Germany will get her medicine and I hope it will do her good."

If Mr. Rushbrooke expected his somewhat flamboyant speech to awaken enthusiastic approval, he must have been disappointed. His words were received in grave silence. The fact of war was far too unfamiliar and too overwhelming to make it easy for them to compa.s.s it in their thoughts or to deal in any adequate way with its possible issues.

After some moments of silence the minister spoke. "I wish I could agree with Mr. Rushbrooke," he said. "But I cannot. My study of this question has impressed me with the overwhelming might of Germany's military power. The war may be short and sharp, and that is what Germany is counting upon. But if it be short and sharp, the issue will be a German victory. The French army is not fully prepared, I understand. Russia is an untrained and unwieldy ma.s.s. There is, of course, the British navy, and with all my heart I thank G.o.d that our fleet appears to be fit for service. But with regard even to our navy we ought to remember that it is as yet untried in modern warfare. I confess I cannot share Mr.

Rushbrooke's optimistic views as to the war. But whether he be right or I, one thing stands out clear in my mind--that we should prepare ourselves to do our duty. At whatever cost to our country or to ourselves, as individuals, this duty is laid upon us. It is the first, the immediate, the all-absorbing duty of every man, woman and child in Canada to make war. G.o.d help us not to shrink."

"How many in this company will be in Winnipeg this week, say to-morrow?"

inquired Mr. Murray. The hand of every business man in the company went up. "Then suppose we call a meeting at my office immediately upon the arrival of the train." And to this they agreed.

The Rushbrooke bonfire was an annual event and ever the most notable of all its kind during the holiday season at the Lake. This year the preparations for the festive gathering had exceeded those of previous years, and Mrs. Rushbrooke's expectations of a brilliantly successful function were proportionately high. But she had not counted upon War.

And so it came that ever as the applause following song or story died down, the Spectre drew near, and upon even the most light-hearted of the company a strange quiet would fall, and they would find themselves staring into the fire forgetful of all about them, thinking of what might be. They would have broken up early but Mrs. Rushbrooke strenuously resisted any such attempt. But the sense of the impending horror chilled the gaiety of the evening and halted the rush of the fun till the hostess gave up in despair and no longer opposed the departure of her guests.

"Mr. McPherson," she said, as that gentleman came to bid her good-night, "I am quite cross with you. You made us all feel so blue and serious that you quite spoiled our bonfire."

"I wish it were only I that had spoiled it, Mrs. Rushbrooke," said Mr.

McPherson gravely. "But even your graceful hospitality to-night, which has never been excelled even by yourself at the Lake of the Woods, could not make us forget, and G.o.d forgive us if we do forget."

"Oh, Mr. McPherson," persisted Mrs. Rushbrooke, in a voice that strove to be gaily reproachful, "we must not become pessimistic. We must be cheerful even if we are at war."

"Thank you for that word," said the minister solemnly. "It is a true word and a right word, and it is a word we shall need to remember more and more."