“My word!” he mimicked, “’ere’s a rum ’un—­somebody should warn the Kaiser!  It’s not fair to take the poor man unawares—­here is some of the real old English fighting-stock.”

Stanley turned in surprise and looked his tormentor in the face.  His look of insipid good-nature lured the German on.

“That is what is wrong with the British Empire,” he jeered; “there are too many of these underbred aristocrats, all pedigree and no brains, like the long-nosed collies.  God help them when they meet the Germans—­that is all I have to say!”

He was quite right in his last sentence—­that was all he had to say.  It was his last word for the evening, and it looked as if it might be his last word for an indefinite time, for the unexpected happened.

Psychologists can perhaps explain it.  We cannot.  Stanley, who like charity had borne all things, endured all things, believed all things, suddenly became a new creature, a creature of rage, blind, consuming, terrible!  You have heard of the worm turning?  This was a case of a worm turning into a tank!

People who were there said that Stanley seemed to grow taller, his eyes glowed, his chin grew firm, his shoulders ceased to be apologetic.  He whirled upon the German and landed a blow on his jaw that sounded like a blow-out!  Before any one could speak, it was followed by another and the German lay on the floor!

Then Stanley turned to the astonished audience and delivered the most successful recruiting speech that had ever been given in the Pembina Valley.

“You have sat here all evening,” he cried, “and have listened to this miserable hound insulting your country—­this man who came here a few years ago without a cent and now has made a fortune in Canada, and I have no doubt is now conspiring with Canada’s enemies, and would betray us into the hands of those enemies if he could.  For this man I have the hatred which one feels for an enemy, but for you Canadians who have sat here and swallowed his insults, I have nothing but contempt.  This man belongs to the race of people who cut hands off children, and outrage women; and now, when our Empire calls for men to go out and stop these devilish things, you sit here and let this traitor insult your country.  You are all braver than I am, too; I am only a joke to most of you, a freak, a looney,—­you have said so,—­but I won’t stand for this.”

That night recruiting began in the valley and Stanley was the first man to sign on.  The recruiting agent felt that it was impossible to turn down a man who had shown so much fighting spirit; and, besides, he was a small man and he had a face which he prized highly!

When the boys of the valley went to Valcartier there was none among them who had more boxes of home-made candy or more pairs of socks than Stanley; nor was any woman prouder of her boy than Mrs. Corbett was of the lad she had taken into her home and into her heart ten years before.