At the table there was much talk of the war that was in the air.  But Mr. Fleming did not even yet believe that war was sure.

“They’ll patch it up,” he said, confidently.  “They can’t be so mad as to set the whole world ablaze over a little scrap like the trouble between Austria and Servia.”

“Would it affect your business, dear?” asked Mrs. Fleming.  “If there really should be war, I mean ?”

“I don’t think so,” said he.  “I might have to make a flying trip home, but I’d be back.  Come on —­ time for us to go.  What are you going to do, boy?  Going over to Grenfel’s, aren’t you ?”

“Yes, father,” said Harry.

“All right.  Get home early.  Good-night!”

A good many of the boys were already there when Dick and Harry reached Grenfel’s house.  The troop —­ the Forty-second, of London —­ was a comparatively small one, having only three patrols.  But nearly all of them were present, and the scout-master took them out into his garden.

“I’m going to change the order a bit,” he said, gravely.  “I want to do some talking, and then I expect to answer questions.  Boys, Germany has declared war on Russia.  There are reports already of fighting on the border between France and Germany.  And there seems to be an idea that the Germans are certain to strike at France through Belgium.  I may not be here very long —­ I may have to turn over the troop to another scoutmaster.  So I want to have a long talk to-night.”  There was a dismayed chorus.

“What?  You going away, sir?  Why?”

But Harry did not join.  He saw the quiet blaze in John Grenfel’s eyes, and he thought he knew.

“I’ve volunteered for foreign service already,” Grenfel explained.  “I saw a little fighting in the Boer war, you know.  And I may be useful.  So I thought I’d get my application in directly.  If I go, I’ll probably go quietly and quickly.  And there may be no other chance for me to say good-bye.”

’Then you think England will be drawn in, sir?” asked Leslie Franklin, leader of the patrol to which Dick and Harry belonged, the Royal Blues.

“I’m afraid so,” said Grenfels grimly.  “There’s just a chance still, but that’s all —­ the ghost of a chance, you might call it.  I think it might be as well if I explained a little of what’s back of all this trouble.  Want to listen?  If you do, I’ll try.  And if I’m not making myself clear, ask all the questions you like.”

There was a chorus of assent.  Grenfel sat in the middle, the scouts ranged about him in a circle.  “In the first place,” he began, “this Servian business is only an excuse.  I’m not defending the Servians —­ I’m taking no sides between Servia and Austria.  Here in England we don’t care about that, because we know that if that hadn’t started the war, something else would have been found.