on for such momentous advice as this man must give to its Congress and its alarmed people.
That address made history. It made the man who delivered it a living figure, in the pages of the country's record. He spoke quietly, almost softly, yet behind his words and his voice was a reassuring power of force and determination. A listening nation heard it, because every station in the country broadcast it as he spoke. Those who did not hear, read it as extras were torn from whirring presses to be scattered by flying newsboys among waiting millions. The papers could give but little impression of that scene in the halls of Congress, when the head of the nation called for the protection of the nation against a mysterious force that threatened the very existence of the world.
There was no other sound as he delivered his message of reassurance to those who might bo wavering. His was no timid soul, yet the bravest might well have quailed before the dilemma he faced. Obey the impossible demands and leave the country fair game for any bandit! Refuse to obey and see the heart of its government wiped out, should the warning be executed! Would it be executed?
The President read that warning as he began his speech, stressing its preposterous demands. Disarm the richest nation in the world to the point where the feeblest might ravish it! This picture he painted for Congress to see. Ships and forts, men and arms—these to be abolished completely; destruction of factories where arms and armament might be provided. This was what was asked of these men chosen to direct and protect a nation. And unless they did these things, they, these men, would be blotted out from life as though they had never been.
He did not attempt to minimize this threat. Instead he discussed earnestly the probability of its being carried to its conclusion. He pointed out the danger these chosen representatives of a people faced, yet he did it calmly, with nothing of fear in his words. Then he explained their duty to the millions who had chosen them from among the many, the special few who might direct the whole. Through them this mysterious power was to cowe a nation. Would they be cowed?
Never. He answered his own question. He promised them most solemnly that every energy of the country would be bent toward locating the man who controlled the mysterious force that blotted out matter, and to the destruction of that force before the first of May, the day set for the destruction of the seat of government unless impossible demands were met.
In a tense silence he called upon Congress to remain firm. He pledged them that should a search discover nothing, should the source of this power still be a mystery by the first of May, he, the President of the United States, would meet with Congress during every session after that date.
For a moment as he finished, there was silence, a hush of approval. Then the walls of the chamber rang with cheers as House and Senate rose to its feet to acclaim a leader without fear.
All that day Blandon longed for a newspaper, so he might know what was going on. What would the country do? Would Congress run? He had joined his voice with the others in calling it a pretty sorry mess, but that was in the days of peace. In a crisis it had always showed its strength. Would it fail now in this greatest crisis ever faced by a nation? He heard the speech of the President, then he had to wait, while regular broadcasting stations picked up the events as they transpired. The Capitol was disconnected, while
