THE GAY COCKADE
the name clung to him. I think he liked it, and emphasized the resemblance. He let his hair grow long, sunk his head between his shoulders, was quick and imperious in his speech.
Then came the war. Belgium devastated, France invaded. Randolph was fired at once.
"I'm going over."
"But, my dear fellow"
"There's our debt to Lafayette."
With his mind made up there was no moving him. The rest of us held back. Our imaginations did not grasp at once the world's need of us.
But Randolph saw himself a Henry of Navarre—white plumes; a Richard of the Lion Heart—crusades and red crosses; a Cyrano without the nose—"These be cadets of Gascony"
"You see, MacDonald," he said, flaming, "we Randolphs have always done it."
"Done what?"
"Fought. There's been a Randolph in every war over here, and before that in a long line of battles"
He told me a great deal about the ancient Randolphs, and the way they had fought on caparisoned steeds with lances.
"War to-day is different," I warned him. "Not so pictorial."
But I knew even then that he would make it
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