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diff --git a/old/68950-0.txt b/old/68950-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c85c4ca..0000000 --- a/old/68950-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2556 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Twenty-three and a half hours’ -leave, by Mary Roberts Rinehart - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Twenty-three and a half hours’ leave - -Author: Mary Roberts Rinehart - -Illustrator: May Wilson Preston - -Release Date: September 9, 2022 [eBook #68950] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF -HOURS’ LEAVE *** - - -[Illustration] - - - - - TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF HOURS’ LEAVE - - MARY ROBERTS RINEHART - - -[Illustration: IN THE ELEVATOR SHE SAID OUT OF A CLEAR SKY: “YOU’LL HAVE -TO TAKE THAT RAINCOAT OFF, OF COURSE.”] - - - - - TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF HOURS’ LEAVE - - - BY - - MARY ROBERTS RINEHART - AUTHOR OF “K,” “BAB,” “THE AMAZING INTERLUDE,” ETC. - - ILLUSTRATED BY - MAY WILSON PRESTON - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - - _Copyright, 1918, - By George H. Doran Company_ - - - _Copyright, 1918, - By The Curtis Publishing Company_ - - _Printed in the United States of America_ - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - IN THE ELEVATOR SHE SAID OUT OF A CLEAR SKY: “YOU’LL - HAVE TO TAKE THAT RAINCOAT OFF, OF COURSE” _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - “IF A MAN FROM THE HEADQUARTERS TROOP OVERSTAYS HIS - LEAVE WHAT HAPPENS TO HIM, UNCLE JIMMY?” 48 - - - - - TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF HOURS’ LEAVE - - - - - I - - -The Headquarters Troop were preparing to leave camp and move towards the -East, where at an Atlantic port they would take ship and the third step -toward saving democracy. Now the Headquarters Troop are a cavalry -organisation, their particular function being, so far as the lay mind -can grasp it, to form a circle round the general and keep shells from -falling on him. Not that this close affiliation gives them any right to -friendly relations with that aloof and powerful personage. - -“It just gives him a few more to yell at that can’t yell back,” grumbled -the stable sergeant. He had been made stable sergeant because he had -been a motorcycle racer. By the same process of careful selection the -chief mechanic had once kept a livery stable. - -The barracks hummed day and night. By day boxes were packed, containing -the military equipment of horses and men in wartime. By night tired -noncoms pored over pay rolls and lists, and wrote, between naps on the -table, such thrilling literature as this: - - “Sergeant Gray: fr. D. to Awol. 10 A. M., 6–1–’18. - - “Sergeant Gray: fr. Awol. to arrest, pp. 2. Memo. Hdq. Camp 6–1–’18 to - 6–2–’18.” - -Which means, interpreted, that Sergeant Gray was absent without leave -from duty at ten A. M. on the first of June, 1918, and that on his -return he was placed under arrest, said arrest lasting from the first to -the second of June. - -On the last night in camp, at a pine table in a tiny office cut off from -the lower squad room, Sergeant Gray made the above record against his -own fair name, and sitting back surveyed it grimly. It was two A. M. -Across from him the second mess sergeant was dealing in cans and pounds -and swearing about a missing cleaver. - -“Did you ever think,” reflected Sergeant Gray, leaning back in his chair -and tastefully drawing a girl’s face on his left thumb-nail, “that the -time would come when you’d be planning bran muffins for the Old Man’s -breakfast? What’s a bran muffin, anyhow?” - -“Horse feed.” - -“Ever eat one?” - -“No. Stop talking, won’t you?” - -Sergeant Gray leaned back and stretched his long arms high above his -head. - -“I’ve got to talk,” he observed. “If I don’t I’ll go to sleep. Lay you -two dollars to one I’m asleep before you are.” - -“Go to the devil!” said the second mess sergeant peevishly. - -“Never had breakfast with the Old Man, did you?” inquired Sergeant Gray, -beginning on his forefinger with another girl’s face. - -There was no reply to his question. The second mess sergeant was -completely immersed in beans. - -“Think the Old Man likes me,” went on Sergeant Gray meditatively. “It’s -about a week now since he told me I was a disgrace to the uniform. How’d -I know I was going to sneeze in his horse’s ear just as he was climbing -on?” - -“Suffering snakes!” cried the second mess sergeant. “Go to bed! You’re -delirious.” - -Sergeant Gray put a dimple in the girl’s cheek and surveyed it -critically. - -“Yep. The old boy’s crazy about me,” he ruminated aloud. “Asked me the -other day if I thought I’d fight the Germans as hard as I fought work.” - -“Probably be asking you to breakfast,” observed the second mess -sergeant, beginning on a new sheet. “He’s in the habit of having noncoms -to eat with him.” - -The subtlety of this passed over Sergeant Gray’s head. He was carefully -adding a small ear to his drawing, an ear which resembled an -interrogation point. But a seed had been dropped on the fertile soil of -his mind. He finished, yawned again and grinned. - -“All right,” he said. “_C’est la guerre_, as the old boy says. I’ll lay -you two dollars to one I eat breakfast with him within a month.” His -imagination grew with the thought. “Wait! I’ll eat bran muffins with him -at breakfast within a month. How’s that?” - -“It’s simple damn foolishness,” observed the second mess sergeant. “I’ll -take you if you’ll go to bed and lemme alone.” - -“‘Lemme,’” observed Sergeant Gray, “is probably Princeton. In Harvard -we——” - -But the second mess sergeant had picked up the inkwell and was fingering -it purposefully. - -“All right, dear old thing,” said Sergeant Gray. - -And he rose, stretching his more than six feet to the uttermost. Then he -made his way through the rows of beds to the sergeant’s corner, and -removing his blouse, his breeches, his shoes and his puttees was ready -for sleep. His last waking thought was of his wager. - -“A bran muffin with the Old Man!” he chuckled. “A bran muffin! A——” - -Something heavy landed on his chest with a great thump, and after -turning round once or twice settled itself there for the remainder of -the night. Lying on his back, so as to give his dog the only possible -berth on the tiny bed, Sergeant Gray, all-American athlete and prime -young devil of the Headquarters Troop, went fast asleep. - -Reveille the next morning, however, found him grouchy. He kicked the dog -off his legs, to which the animal had retired, and reaching under his -pillow brought out his whistle. He blew a shrill blast on it. The lower -squad room groaned, turned over, closed its eyes. He blew again. - -“Roll out!” he yelled in stentorian tones. “R-r-roll out, you dirty -horsemen!” - -Then he closed his eyes again and went peacefully to sleep. He dreamed -that the general was carrying a plate of bran muffins to his bedside, -and behind him was a pretty girl with coffee and an ear like an -interrogation point. He wakened to find breakfast over and the cook in a -bad temper. - -“Be a sport, Watt,” he pleaded. “Just a cup of coffee, anyhow.” - -“I fed your dog for you. That’s all you get.” - -“I can’t eat the dog.” - -“Go on out,” said the cook. “This ain’t the Waldorf-Astoria. Nor Childs’ -neither.” - -“Some day, on the field of honor,” said Sergeant Gray, “you will lie -wounded, Watt. You will beg for a cup of water, and I shall refuse it, -saying——” - -“Give him something to get rid of him,” the cook instructed his helper. - -And Sergeant Gray was fed. As he drank his coffee he reflected as to his -wager of the night before. It appealed to his sporting instinct but not -to his reason. He had exactly as much chance to eat a bran muffin with -the general as he had to sign peace terms with the Kaiser. - -He drank his tepid coffee and surveyed his finger nails disconsolately. -The faces had only partially disappeared during his morning’s ablution. - -“This is the life, Watt!” he said to the cook. “Wine, women and song, -eh?” - -But the cook was cutting his finger nails, preparatory to morning -inspection. - -Now the ink pictures on Sergeant Gray’s finger nails had a certain -significance. They bore, to be exact, a certain faint resemblance to a -young lady whose photograph was now concealed against inspection in the -sergeant’s condiment can. The young lady in question had three days -before wired the sergeant to this effect: - -“Married Bud Palmer yesterday. Please wish me happiness.” - -To which, concealing a deep hurt, the sergeant had replied: “Praying -earnestly for you both.” - -He was, then, womanless. No one loved him. He was going to war, and no -one would mourn him—except the family, of course. The effect of the -tepid coffee on his empty stomach was merely to confirm his morning -unhappiness. No one loved him and he had made a fool bet that by now was -all over the troop. - -At mess he knew what he stood committed to. “Please pass the bran -muffins,” came loudly to his ears. And scraps of conversation like this: - -“But you see, dear old thing, I didn’t know your horse was going to -stick his head under my nose when I sneezed.” - -Or: - -“But, my dear general, the weakness of the division lies in your staff. -Now, if I were doing it——” - -By one o’clock in the afternoon the troop were ready to move. And -Sergeant Gray went into the town. There he tried on a new uniform—and -the story of Sergeant Gray’s new uniform is the story of the bran -muffins. - -It was really a beautiful uniform. Almost it took away the sting of that -telegram; almost it obliterated the memory of the wager. It spread over -his broad shoulders and hugged his slim waist. The breeches were full -above and close below. For the first time he felt every inch a soldier. - -He carried the old uniform back to camp and gave it to the cook. - -“Here, Watt!” he said. “You’ve been grumbling about clothes. Cut the -chevrons off it, and it’s yours.” - -“Well, look who’s here!” said Watt admiringly. “Thought you fellows had -to wear issue stuff.” - -“Laws are for slaves, Watt.” - -“Keep it nice,” observed the cook gracelessly. “You’ll need it for that -breakfast with the general.” - -“Wait and see,” said Sergeant Gray jauntily, but with no hope in his -heart. - -The new uniform was the cause of much invidious comment. Most of it -resembled the cook’s. But Sergeant Gray was busy. To pass inspection he -was obliged to borrow from the neighbouring beds, left unguarded, -certain articles in which he was deficient, namely: Undershirt, cotton, -one; socks, light wool, pairs, two; underbreeches, cotton, pairs, one. - -Thus miscellaneously assembled he passed inspection. He drew a deep -breath, however, when no notice was taken of the new and forbidden -uniform and when the photograph of Mrs. Bud Palmer still lay rolled up -and undiscovered in his condiment can. - -During the afternoon he wandered over to the depot brigade and left his -dog there with a lieutenant who had promised to look after him. The -sense of depression and impending doom had overtaken him again. He -stopped at the post exchange and bought a dozen doughnuts, which he -carried with him in a paper bag. - -“Might feed him one of these now and then,” he suggested. “He’s going to -miss me like the devil. He’s a nice mutt.” His voice was a trifle husky. - -“Not fond of bran muffins, I suppose?” - -The lieutenant’s voice was impersonal. Sergeant Gray eyed him -suspiciously, but his eyes were on the dog. - -“Don’t know. Never tried them,” he said, and walked off with great -dignity. - -So that was it, eh? It was all over the division already. Well, he’d -show them! He’d—— - -The general, on horseback and followed by his aids, went by. Sergeant -Gray stopped and rigidly saluted, but the general’s eyes and his mind -were far away. Sergeant Gray looked after him with bitterness in his -heart. Just at that moment he hated the Army. He hated the general. Most -of all he hated to the depths of his soul those smug young officers who -were the general’s aids-de-camp, and who ate with him, and swanked in -and out of Headquarters, and ordered horses from the troop stables -whenever they wanted them, and brought in their muddy automobiles to be -cleaned, and sat with their feet on the general’s desk in his absence -and smoked his cigarettes. - -However, he cheered somewhat during the evening. They were ready to -move. No more drill on hot and dusty parade grounds. No more long hikes. -No more digging and shoveling and pushing of wagon trains out of the -mud. No more infantry range, where a chap in the pit waved a red flag -every time dust in a fellow’s eyes caused a miss, and the men round -hissed “Raspberry!” No more bayonet school, where one jabbed a bunch of -green branches representing the enemy, and asked breathlessly how it -liked it. “War’s hell, you know, old top,” he had been wont to say, and -had given the bunch another poke for luck. - -Before, ahead, loomed the port of embarkation. The one imminent question -of the barracks was—leave. Were they to have leave or were they not? To -Sergeant Gray the matter was of grave importance. Leave meant a call on -Mrs. Bud Palmer the faithless, in the new uniform, and the ceremonious -returning to her of the photograph in the condiment can. Then it meant -finding a nice girl—he was rather vague here—and going to the theatre -and supper afterward, and perhaps to a roof garden still later. - -“I’ll show her,” he muttered between his teeth. But the her was Mrs. -Palmer. - -In their preparations for departure the wager slipped from the minds of -the troop. At two-thirty in the morning they went ostensibly on a hike, -in full marching order, which meant extremely full—for a cavalry troop -dismounted must carry their own equipment and a part that normally -belongs on the horse. Went on a hike, not to return. - -“Everything on me but the kitchen stove,” grumbled Sergeant Gray, and -edged gingerly through the doorway to join the line outside. With -extreme caution, because only the entire balance of the division and the -people in three near-by towns knew that they were moving, they made -their way to a railway siding and there entrained. - -It was dawn when the cars moved out. Sergeant Gray had secured a window -seat, and kept it in spite of heroic efforts to oust him. All round was -his equipment, packed tight, his saddlebags, his blanket roll, his rifle -and bandoleer, a dozen oranges in a paper sack, as many doughnuts. Over -and round him, leaning out of his window at the imminent danger of their -lives, were the supply sergeant, the second mess sergeant, the stable -sergeant and two corporals. - -“Not crowded, are you, general?” asked the stable sergeant politely. - -The title stuck. He was general to the entire troop after that: behind -his back, to the enlisted men; to his face and very, very politely, to -the other noncoms. - -“Oh, go to hell!” they finally tortured out of him; and they retired, -grinning, until some wit or other would walk down the aisle, salute -gravely and say: “Wish to report that bran muffins are on the way, sir.” - -And as the train moved out the car took up that message of the artillery -when a gun is fired. “On the way!” they yelled. “On the way! Bran muffin -Number One on the way.” - -“Been pretty busy, haven’t you?” he asked when at last the train had -settled down to comparative quiet and the second mess sergeant was -beside him. - -“Not half as busy as you’ll have to be if you’re going to make good.” - -However, the troop’s attention, fickle as the love of the mob, turned at -last away from him and focused on the coloured porter. They insisted -that he was of draft age, and that it was the custom anyhow to take the -train crew to France with the troops it carried. They suggested craps, -and on his protesting that he had no money they forced him to turn his -pockets out, at the point of a revolver. And boylike, having bullied him -until he was pale, they loaded him with cigarettes, candy, fruit and -abuse. - -The Headquarters Troop had a train of their own. Up behind the engine -was the baggage car, turned into a kitchen with field ranges set up and -the cooks already at work. Behind was the long line of tourist sleepers, -each with its grinning but slightly apprehensive porter. And at the -rear, where general officers of importance are always kept in war, was a -Pullman containing the divisional staff. - -When breakfast, served from the baggage car, was being carried down the -aisles the train pulled into a tunnel and stopped. It was a very hot -day, and in through the open windows rolled black and choking clouds of -smoke. The troop coughed and cursed; but a moment later they burst into -wild whoops of joy. The engine had pulled on a hundred yards or so, -leaving the staff car in the tunnel. - -The windows were full of jeering boys, eyes bent eagerly toward the -rear. The end of the tunnel belched smoke like an iron furnace, and into -it the joyous whoops of the troop penetrated like the maniacal yells of -demons. - -The general, who had just buttered a bran muffin, looked up and scowled. -He took a bite of the muffin, but he was eating smoke. - -“What the——” he sputtered. “Get this car moved on, somebody!” he -shouted. - -The staff sat still and pretended it was not present. - -“Woof, woof!” said the general in a furious cough. “Listen to -those—woof, woof!—young devils! Move this train on, somebody! What have -I got a staff for anyhow?” - -The train stood still and conversation languished. There are only two -things to be done when a general is angry: One is to get behind the -furniture and pretend one is not there; the other is to distract his -mind. The general’s ire growing and the car remaining in the tunnel, an -aide whom the general called Tommy when no one was near ventured to -speak. - -“Rather an amusing story going round, sir,” he said. “Woof! One of the -sergeants in the Headquarters Troop has made a wager—woof!—woof, -sir!—sir—that he——” - -“I don’t want to hear anything about the Headquarters Troop,” snarled -the general. “Woof! Bunch of second-story workers!” - -The aide subsided. But somewhat later, when the car had moved on and the -general was smoking an excellent cigar, the general said: “What was the -wager, Tommy?” - -“I believe, sir, it is to the effect that within a month this fellow -will breakfast with you, sir. To be exact, will eat a bran muffin with -you.” - -The general exhaled a large mouthful of smoke. - -“_C’est la guerre!_” he said. He had been studying French for two weeks. -“_C’est la guerre_, Tommy. Queer things happen these days. But I think -it unlikely. Very, very unlikely.” - - - - - II - - -Sergeant Gray was extremely contented. He sat back in his seat and -alternately nibbled doughnuts and puffed at a cigarette. Before him, -stretched as far as the limitations permitted, were two long and -well-breeched legs, ending in tan shoes listed by the supply sergeant as -“Shoes, field, pair, size 11 EE.” - -He had surreptitiously taken out Mrs. Bud Palmer’s photograph and -decided that her face was shallow. And after a moment’s hesitation he -had decided not to waste any part of his precious leave in returning it. -So he had torn it into bits and thrown it out of the window. Then he had -taken a piece of paper and, writing on it “This space to let,” had -placed it in the condiment can and put the can back in his saddlebags. - -The reason of his content was that leave was now assured. At eleven -o’clock that morning the general’s field secretary had typed on a shaky -field machine that stood on an equally unsteady tripod the order that at -the port of embarkation twenty per cent of the men would be allowed each -day some twenty-three and a half hours’ leave. - -Wild cheers in each car had followed the reading of the order. Wild -cheers and wild plans. Sergeant Gray dreamed, doughnut in one hand and -cigarette in the other. Twenty-three and a half hours! A lot could -happen in twenty-three and a half hours. His dreams were general rather -than concrete. Girls, theatres and food comprised them. No particular -girl, no particular theatre, no particular food. He would call up some -of the fellows from college, and they would have sisters. And when he -had gone to the other side they would write to him. - -He had no sentimental affiliations now. He had put all his eggs in one -basket and the basket had been stolen. - -“Lucky I’m not dependent on eggs for food!” he mused and, mistaking the -hand in which he held the doughnut, bit vigorously into his cigarette. - -Nevertheless his spirits grew lower as the day went on. It had occurred -to him that all the fellows he had counted on for sisters would be in -the Army, like himself. He cut off girls from his list, on that -discovery; but food and theatres remained. He reflected rather defiantly -that he could have a good time without girls; and then considered that a -chap who lied to himself was in the class with a fellow who cheated at -solitaire. - -The day was hot. Kindly women at stations passed in sandwiches and -coffee, and the troop, with the eternal appetite of twenty-odd, gorged -themselves and cheered in overhanging pyramids from the windows. The -corporals on guard between the cars slept on seats improvised of -saddlebags, and between naps rolled cigarettes. And the noncoms in their -corner inveigled the porter to a game of craps, and took from him his -week’s accumulation of tips. - -At the end of the game Sergeant Gray took out his money and counted it. - -“Looks like you’d be able to give the Old Man a right good breakfast,” -observed the stable sergeant. - -“Oh, it’s to be his breakfast,” said Sergeant Gray recklessly. - -“It is, is it?” The stable sergeant regarded him with admiration. “Want -to bet on it?” - -“Just as you like,” was the cool answer. - -“Look here,” said the stable sergeant, aware of an audience. “I’ll lay -you five to one you don’t breakfast with him at all; ten to one you -don’t do it on his invitation, and”—he hesitated for effect—“twenty to -one you don’t do it within a week.” - -“Good!” said Sergeant Gray, and laid some bills on his knee. “I’d wager -I could pull the Crown Prince’s nose at those odds. Then if I do -breakfast with him within a week on his invitation you’ll owe me a -hundred and seventy-five dollars.” - -“I wish my money was as safe in the bank.” But the stable sergeant was -vaguely uncomfortable. Those college chaps had a way of putting things -over. He went out on the platform and stared uneasily at the flying -scenery. - -Sergeant Gray folded his new uniform under the mattress of his berth -that night. It was bad for the collar, but he did it lest worse befall -it. He suspected the troop of jealous designs on it. But he could not -fold himself away so easily, and lay diagonally, with two Number Eleven -Double E feet in the aisle. At four in the morning he wakened, the cause -being a dream that he had for some hours been walking in a puddle and -needed to change his shoes. - -Still only half awake, he looked at his feet, to perceive that some wag -had neatly blackened them with shoe polish from the porter’s closet. He -immediately reached under his pillow for his whistle and blew a shrill -blast on it, followed by a stentorian roar. - -“Roll out, you dirty horsemen! R-r-roll out!” he yelled. - -Still half asleep, they roused at the familiar sounds. Grunting and -protesting they sat up. From the berth over him a corporal swung down -two long bare legs and sat on the edge, yawning. Then somebody looked at -a watch. There would have been a small riot, but the men were too sleepy -and too relieved. They tumbled back, and Sergeant Gray lay on his pillow -and grinned vindictively. - -He did not go to sleep at once. He lay there and thought of his wager, -and cursed himself for a fool. Then he dismissed that and thought of his -twenty-three and a half hours’ leave. If only there were a girl—a nice -girl. He did not want the sort of girl a fellow picked up in the -streets. He wanted a real girl, the sort a fellow could write to later -on. - -Little quickenings of romance stirred in his heart. A pretty girl, -preferably small. He liked them little, with pointed chins. They had a -way, the little girls with pointed chins, of looking up at a fellow—— - -He wakened at seven. The troop were still sleeping, but from the baggage -car ahead there floated back an odor of frying bacon, and on the -platform of a station outside—for the train had stopped—the general was -taking an airing. - -Sergeant Gray blew his whistle. “R-r-roll out!” he yelled. “R-r-roll -out, you blooming sons of guns!” - -And, to emphasize his authority, he lifted a strong and muscular pair of -legs and raised the upper berth, in which the corporal still slept. -Smothered sounds from above convincing him that his efforts had been -successful he dropped the upper berth with a jerk. - -“R-r-roll out, up there!” he yelled; and whistle in hand he lay back to -the succulent enjoyment of an orange. - -Across from him the stable sergeant had turned on his back for another -nap. Through the curtains, opened against the heat, Gray could see that -young gentleman’s broad chest rising and falling slowly. The temptation -and destiny were too strong for him. He bounced an orange on it, only to -see it rebound through the window and to hear a deafening roar. The -stable sergeant sat up, a hand on his chest and fire in his eyes. He -blinked into the distorted face of the general, outside the window. The -general was holding a hand to his left ear. - -“Who threw that orange?” demanded the general. - -“Wh-what orange, sir?” - -“Don’t lie to me. It came out of this window.” - -“I was asleep, sir. Something struck me on the chest. I didn’t see it, -sir!” - -Behind his curtains Sergeant Gray had been struggling into his trousers. -He emerged now, slightly pale but determined. - -“I threw it, sir,” he explained. “I had no idea—it bounced, sir.” - -The general surveyed him grimly. - -“It’s a curious thing, sergeant,” he said, “that when there is any -deviltry going on in the Headquarters Troop I find you at the bottom of -it. Report to me in my car at eight o’clock.” - -Then he stalked away. - -Down the car a sonorous bass spoke from behind a curtain: “The -commanding general presents his compliments to Sergeant Gray, and will -Sergeant Gray breakfast with him in his private car at eight o’clock?” - -Sergeant Gray dressed hastily. There was the bitterness of despair in -his heart, for he knew what was coming. He would have no twenty-three -and a half hours’ leave, no theatres, no decent food, no girl. And over -his head still that idiotic bet. - -“Oh, hell!” he muttered, and started back. - -The general was still in a very bad temper, and his left ear was swollen -and purple. He lost no time in the attack—he believed in striking -swiftly and hard—and he read off, from an excellent memory, the tale of -Sergeant Gray’s various sins of commission. But he did not go so far as -he meant to go, at that. In the first place, Gray was an excellent -noncom, and in the second place there was something in the boy’s -upstanding figure and clear if worried eyes that, coupled with another -of the excellent cigars, inclined him to leniency. - -“But remember this, Gray,” he finished severely, “I don’t usually meddle -with these things. But I’ve got my eye on you. One more infraction of -discipline, and you’ll lose your stripes.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Gray. - -He was intolerably virtuous all that day. - -Late that afternoon they detrained two miles from the new camp, and -marched along, singing lustily songs that sound better than they look in -print, and joyously stretching legs too long confined. It mattered -nothing to them that the temporary camp was untidy and badly drained; -that the general passing in a limousine was reading an order that meant -an emergency abroad, into which they were to be thrown at once; that a -certain percentage of them would never come back; and that a certain -other percentage would return, never again to tramp the open road or to -see the blue sky overhead. - -But a girl in a little car trailing in the dust behind the staff cars -thought of those things, and almost ran over the company goat, Eloise, -because of tears. - -“Darned little idiot!” murmured Sergeant Gray, and gave his last -doughnut to Eloise. - -There was no thrill, no increase over the regular seventy-six beats a -minute of his heart to tell him that love had just passed by in a pink -hat. - -Until eighty-thirty that night Sergeant Gray was obnoxiously virtuous. -He had met an English noncom in the camp, and was studiously -endeavouring to copy that gentleman’s carriage and dignity. And the -attraction of the new surroundings had turned the attention of the troop -from him and his wager to other things. A discovery, too, of certain -conditions in the barracks distracted them. - -“A week here,” growled the second mess sergeant, “and we’ll all have to -be dipped.” - -“Might as well get used to it, old son,” said Sergeant Gray, and hummed -a little ditty to the effect that “They are wild, simply wild, over me.” - -But with the falling of darkness the high spirits of the crowd broke -loose. That night there was a battle royal in the barracks. The lower -squad room, which housed among others the N. C. O.’s, decided to raid -the two upper squad rooms. Word of this having been passed up, the upper -squad rooms were prepared. At the top of the stairs were stationed the -fire buckets, filled to the top, and a pile of coal stolen from the -kitchen and secretly conveyed to the upper floor by means of baskets, a -window and a rope. - -Twice the lower squad reached the top of the staircase, amid wild yells -and much splashing of water. The hall and stairs were running small -rivers. Coals, recklessly flung down, were salvaged like hand grenades -by the attacking force and thrown back again. - -The noise penetrated to august quarters, and the sentry at the door, -placed there for just such an emergency, having been infected with the -mad desire to fight, and being at that moment in the act of climbing the -coal rope to attack the enemy from the rear, an officer with a flash was -at the door before he was seen. - -Followed instantaneous quiet with the only sound the dripping of water -down the stairs. Followed the silent retreat of the warriors to beds, -into which they crept fully dressed. The officer moved through the lower -squad room. It was extremely quiet save for an occasional deep-throated -snore. The officer smiled grimly and went away. - -And in the darkness Sergeant Gray sat up and felt of his right eye. - -In the early dawn, hearing the cook stirring, he went across to the mess -hall, a strange figure in his undergarments, with one eye closed and a -bruise on his forehead as big as an egg. The cook eyed him angrily, and -addressed him without regard to his dignity as a sergeant. - -“Some o’ you fellows get busy and bring back that coal you took last -night,” he said. “I got something else to do.” - -“Look here, Watt,” said Sergeant Gray appealingly, “I’ll get the coal -for you all right. But give me a piece of raw beefsteak, won’t you? Look -at this eye.” - -“Pleased to see it,” said the cook with a vindictive glare. - -“Forget it, Watt. I’ll get your coal. See here, I’ve got leave -to-morrow, and I want to go to the city.” - -“Well, you can go, for all of me.” - -“I want,” said Sergeant Gray plaintively, “to get my picture taken. I -want to send it to my mother.” - -Suddenly the cook laughed. He leaned over the big serving counter and -laughed until he was weak. - -“Picture!” he said. “My word! She’ll think the Germans have had you! -Say, give me one, will you?” - -He went to the refrigerator, however, and brought out a piece of raw -beef. - -It should have warned Sergeant Gray, lying sulkily on his cot through -that bright spring day, the beef over his eye and attracting a multitude -of flies, that no one else had suffered visible injury. The boys came -and went blithely, each intent on his own affairs. United action had -cleaned up the hallway and the stairs. But Sergeant Gray, picked out as -Fate’s victim, lay and dozed and struck at flies and—waited. - -By night the swelling had gone, but a deep bluish shadow encircled the -right eye. Frequent consultation of his shaving mirror told him that he -would have the mark for days, but at least he could see. That was -something. He got up after dusk and dressed in the new uniform. Then he -wandered about the camp. - -He felt very lonely. Most of his intimates were on leave. Round the camp -the men lounged negligently. Some one with a mandolin was strumming it, -and from the theatre, where a movie show was going on, came the rattle -of clapping hands. Sergeant Gray hesitated at the door, then he moved -on. - -What he wanted was some one to talk to, a girl preferably. He wandered -past division headquarters, where the chief of staff stood inside a -window rolling a cigarette; past the bull pen, surrounded by its fifteen -feet of barbed wire and its military police. - -At the edge of the camp he halted. From there one could see a brilliance -reflected in the sky—the lights of the port of embarkation, ten miles -away. - -Sergeant Gray sighed and sat down on the road near an automobile. And -somebody spoke to him. - -“Can I take you anywhere?” asked the voice. - -It was young and feminine. Something that had been aching in Sergeant -Gray’s deep chest suddenly stopped aching and leaped. - -“Thanks,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere in particular.” - -“I just thought”—explained the voice—“I’m waiting for the—for a relative -and I might as well be taking people to the street-car line. The taxis -have stopped.” - -A car leaving the camp threw its lights on her. She was small and young -and had a pointed chin. Sergeant Gray got up. - -“It’s awfully good of you,” he said. “If it isn’t too much trouble I’ll -go to the end of the line.” - -“Get in,” she said briefly. - -Sergeant Gray sat back in the little car and drew a long breath. - -“It’s rather small for you, isn’t it?” asked the girl, throwing in the -clutch. “My brother has to fold up too. He’s in France,” she added. -“That’s why I like to do things for the soldiers here. It’s like doing -something for him.” - -Sergeant Gray pondered this. He considered it rather an unusual thing -for a girl to have thought of. He considered that she was as nice as she -was pretty. He also considered that she drove well. Sergeant Gray, who -in his leisure hours practiced running a motorcycle with the side car in -the air, paid her tribute of approval. - -“We’ll be over soon,” he said with a touch of pride. - -“You’d better not tell anybody that.” - -“Why? I rather think our being here tells the story.” - -“Well, a lot of people would like to know just when you’re going. They -hang round the men and offer them rides in cars, and the men get to -talking, and pretty soon they’ve told all they know.” - -“They’d better not try it on me.” - -“You almost told me a moment ago.” - -Sergeant Gray sat quiet and a trifle hurt. - -“I am only warning you,” said the girl. “There are spies simply -everywhere. I can’t do much, and that’s my way of doing something. That -and being a sort of taxi,” she added. - -They were in a town now, and by the lamps he saw just how pretty she -was. - -“Thanks awfully for warning me,” he said rather humbly. “A fellow gets -to think that all this spy talk is—just talk.” - -“Well, it isn’t,” said the girl briefly but with the air of one who -knew. - -The sergeant eyed her askance. - -“That sounds as though you knew something.” - -“Perhaps I do. Though of course one doesn’t really know these things. -One suspects.” - -“Naturally one does.” - -She glanced at him, but his face was grave. - -“What I would like to know,” he proceeded, “is what one does when one -suspects.” - -“I am afraid you are trying to be funny,” she observed coldly, and -brought the car to a standstill. “Here’s your car line.” - -He hesitated. Then he made a wild resolve. - -“I see it,” he said agreeably. “Thanks awfully for bringing me. We can -go back now.” - -She stared at him. - -“You are not going anywhere?” - -“Why, no,” he said, trying not to look conscious. “I said that I’d like -to go to the end of the car line.” - -“You’re there.” - -“I only wanted to look at it.” - -“Very well. Get out and look at it. I don’t think you’ll find it unusual -in any way.” - -“Look here,” he said humbly. “I’m awfully sorry. I was just hungry to -talk to some one, and when you offered——” - -“I have done exactly as I offered. You will please get out!” - -He got out slowly. He was overcome with wretchedness and guilt, but her -pointed chin was held high and her face was obstinate. - -“Thank you very much,” said Sergeant Gray, and turning drearily -commenced his lonely walk back to camp. - -He could hear her behind him backing and turning in the narrow street. -He plodded on, cursing himself. If he had had any sense and had got out -and let her think he was going somewhere—— - -The lights of the car were close behind him now. When they were abreast -he heard the grinding of the brakes as it stopped. - -“I don’t want to be disagreeable,” said the girl, beside him. “I suppose -you did want some one to talk to. I’ll take you back if you like.” - -“I’d better not bother you any more.” - -Suddenly she laughed. In the light from a street lamp she had caught her -first real glimpse of his face. - -“Wherever did you get that eye?” she demanded. - -“Fighting,” he said shortly. “We had a roughhouse at the barracks last -night.” - -“I should think you were going to have enough trouble soon without -getting beaten up like that,” she said with a touch of severity. “Well, -are you going to get in?” - -He got in. She had been rather reserved coming down, but now she was -more talkative. His little remark about being hungry for some one to -talk to had struck home. Her brother had said something like that once. -They must get hungry for girls, nice girls. - -So now she chattered and she drew from the tall boy beside her something -about himself. It was not particularly hard to do. Sergeant Gray opened -up like a flower in the sun. He explained, for instance, that he was to -have a commission when he was twenty-one. - -“Unless,” he admitted, “I’m in too bad with the Old Man.” - -“The Old Man?” - -“The general,” explained Sergeant Gray, unaware that the young lady was -sitting very straight. “He’s hell—he’s strong for discipline, and all -that. And—well, every now and then I slip up on something, and he gets -me. It’s always me he gets,” he finished plaintively and -ungrammatically. - -“But you shouldn’t do things that are wrong.” - -Sergeant Gray pondered this amazing statement. - -“Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged. “I hadn’t thought of that.” - -“You might try being terribly well behaved for—well, for twenty-four -hours.” - -“Do you want me to?” - -“It’s entirely a matter of your own good,” she said rather coldly. - -“I’ll do it!” said Sergeant Gray rashly. “Not a misstep for twenty-four -hours. How’s that?” - -“It sounds well.” - -“The truth is,” confided Sergeant Gray, “I’ve got to be good. He’s -watching. He told me so.” - -“And if you’re not——” - -“Shot against a brick wall probably.” He grinned cheerfully. “Think of -that hanging over a fellow, and twenty-three and a half hours’ leave -to-morrow.” - -“I hope,” she said in the motherly tone she assumed now and then, “that -you are going to be awfully careful to-morrow.” - -“Did you ever see a cat crossing a wet gutter? Well, that’s me -to-morrow. This is no time to take any chances.” - -At which probably those particular gods that had Sergeant Gray in their -keeping laughed behind their hands. - -The girl stopped the car at the camp, and the plaything of destiny -descended. - -“Thank you, awfully,” observed the said plaything with a considerable -amount of warmth in his voice. “I—perhaps I shall not see you again.” - -“I was just thinking—what time does your leave commence to-morrow?” - -“At ten-thirty”—hopefully. - -“I might pick you up then and take you to the trolley.” - -“Honestly, would you?” he asked delightedly. “You know, I—really, I -can’t tell you how grateful I would be.” - -“I love to make the taxi men wriggle,” was her rather unsatisfactory -reply. “I’ll be here, then. Good night.” - -Sergeant Gray saluted and went away. To all appearances he was a rather -overgrown young man trudging through the mud of a not too-tidy camp to a -barracks that needed carbolising. Actually he was a sublimated being -favoured of heaven and floating in a rosy cloud of dreams. - -“Halt!” said a guard, and threw his rifle to port arms. “Who’s there?” - -“Sergeant of the Headquarters Troop,” said the superman. - -“Where’s your pass?” - -The superman presented it, and the guard inspected it closely—the -attitude of the M. P. being that all men are Germans unless proved -otherwise. - -“Thoroughly satisfactory?” inquired the superman. - -The M. P. grunted. - -The sergeant approached him and lowered his voice confidentially. - -“Tell you something,” he volunteered: “I’m not the same chap who went -out on that pass.” - -“What d’you mean you’re not?” - -“It’s like this, old son. But first of all let me ask you something.” He -glanced about cautiously. “Man to man, old son—do you believe in love at -first sight?” - -“Last fellow who tried being funny round here,” said the guard grimly, -“had a chance to laugh himself to death in the bull pen.” - -“No heart!” sighed the sergeant, moving on, still on air. “No soul! No -imagination! Good night, my sad and lonely friend. Good night!” - -He moved on, singing in a very deep bass: - - “_Oh, promise me that some day you and I - May take our love te tum, te tum, te tum._” - -The chief of staff, who had also discovered that his quarters needed -fumigation, raised from an uneasy pillow and groaned disgustedly. - -“Stop that noise out there!” he bawled through the window beside him. - -The superman recognised neither the voice nor the new quarters of the -staff. - -“Minion,” he said, halting and addressing the window, “hast never -loved?” - -Then he moved on, still in a roseate cloud the exact shade of a certain -pink hat. - - “_That we may take our love and faith renew, - And find the hollows where those violets grew-w-w——_” - -His voice died away, swallowed up in distance and the night. - - -When he went into the lower squad room a sort of chant greeted him from -the beds: “Where, oh where’s the sergeant been?” - -And the reply shouted lustily: “Out getting measured for a shave.” - -He undressed quietly, and salvaging the piece of beefsteak from under -his pillow got into bed and placed it carefully over his eye. - - - - - III - - -But tragedy had marked Sergeant Gray for its own. At reveille he rolled -over, yawned and without lifting himself reached up to the pocket of his -blouse and retrieved his whistle. - -He blew it and shouted as usual: “R-r-roll out, you dirty horsemen! -R-r-roll out!” - -Then, arms under his head, he lay and dreamed. Round the day to come he -wove little fantasies of the new uniform, and money in his pocket, and -twenty-three and a half hours’ leave, and—the girl in the little car. -His pass he had already secured through the top sergeant. It had been, -with others on the pass list, O.K’d by the captain and re-O.K’d by the -military police. At ten-thirty that morning Sergeant Gray would be a -free man. - -He made a huge breakfast, and careful inspection showed the eye greatly -improved. And he whistled blithely while laying out his things for the -official inspection, comparing his belongings carefully with a list in -his hand. Nothing was to go wrong that day, nothing mar the perfection -of it or curtail his leave. - -But he failed to count the camp quartermaster; and that Destiny, which -had taken him in hand forty-eight hours ago, was making of him her toy. - -Now camp quartermasters are but human. They have their good days and -their bad, and sometimes it rather gets on their nerves, the eternal -examining and determining, for instance, that every man of perhaps -thirty thousand possesses in perfect condition: - - 2 breeches, O. D. wool, prs. - - 2 coats, O. D. wool. - - 1 overcoat, O. D. wool. - - 1 slicker. - - 1 hat. - - 1 cord (cavalry, infantry, artillery). - - 3 undershirts, cotton. - - 3 underbreeches, cotton, prs. - - 5 socks, light wool, prs. - - 5 shirts, flannel, O. D. - - 2 shoes, field, prs. - -Sergeant Gray’s Destiny, working by devious ways, had given the camp -inspector a headache, a bad breakfast, a shirt lost by the laundry and a -wigging by somebody or other. Into the bargain it was a fine day for -golf and here he was looking over breeches, O. D. wool, pairs, two; and -so on. - -Into the barracks then came fate in the shape of the camp inspector, -military of figure and militant of disposition, to count the pins for -shelter halves, for instance, and generally to do anything but swing a -golf club, as his heart desired. The men lined up by their equipment and -the inspector went down the line. And he opened, by evil chance, -Sergeant Gray’s condiment can and found the space-to-let notice inside. - -He looked at it, and then he looked at the tall sergeant. Now to save -all he could of his twenty-three and a half hours’ leave Sergeant Gray -had put on his new uniform, which was against the rules. He had obeyed -the regulations exactly as to his hat cord, whistle, collar insignia, -buttons and shoes. Otherwise from his healthy skin to his putties he -wore not a single issue article. - -The second mess sergeant eying him before inspection had warned him. - -“You’ll get into trouble with that outfit, Gray,” he had said. And Gray -had replied that if he did it would be his trouble. - -“Possibly,” had been the second mess sergeant’s comment. “But if you put -him in a bad humour and get him started—there’ll be hell to pay.” - -And now there was to be hell to pay. And the inspector, who might have -been expected to walk in one door and out another but did not, stood off -and surveyed him coldly. - -“Issue uniform?” he demanded. - -“N-no, sir.” - -“Take it off!” - -Sergeant Gray obeyed. Once off, the full extent of his iniquity, as to -his undershirt, underbreeches and socks, was revealed. - -“Scrap the clothing this man is wearing,” ordered the inspector. And to -Sergeant Gray: “Show me your issue uniforms.” - -Now the sergeant was hard on clothing, and particularly on breeches. -Also he had given one uniform to Watt, the cook. The single one he was -able to produce was badly worn; so badly, indeed, that the camp -inspector with his two hands tore the breeches apart, at a vital spot, -and flung them on the floor. Something in Sergeant Gray’s breast seemed -to tear also and sink to the floor. - -“Scrap this one also,” ordered the camp inspector. - -“Sir——” ventured Sergeant Gray desperately. - -But the camp inspector had discovered something, namely: That the issue -uniforms of the Headquarters Troop of the ——th Division were of poor -material. Slowly and carefully he went through the lot. Sharply and -decisively, at the end, he gave his orders. - -[Illustration: “IF A MAN FROM THE HEADQUARTERS TROOP OVERSTAYS HIS -LEAVE, WHAT HAPPENS TO HIM, UNCLE JIMMY?” _See page 76_] - -“Scrap every uniform in the troop,” he said, “and send this order to the -camp quartermaster.” - -In ten minutes one hundred and ninety-five men stood to attention in -their undergarments, and in the center of each squad room lay a great -heap of discarded khaki. - -“Leaving us rather stripped, sir,” ventured the captain. - -“They’ve got their slickers,” curtly observed fate; “and the -quartermaster will fix you up all right.” - -He went out. Jove, what a day for golf! - -“Sergeant!” called the captain. - -He avoided the baleful eyes of his men and looked out of a window. He -was rather young and terribly afraid he would laugh. - -The supply sergeant, thus called, came forward and saluted. He was a -queer figure in his woolens, and the captain coughed to recover his -voice. - -“Put—put on your slicker,” he said, “and carry this order to the camp -quartermaster. And hurry!” - -Now all the balance of this story rests on that order to hurry, for it -came about that the supply sergeant, running, put his toe under the edge -of a board and fell heavily, and a military policeman, discovering thus -that the sergeant wore no breeches, placed him immediately under arrest. - -“Oh, very well,” said the supply sergeant politely; and put the order in -his slicker pocket. If they chose to arrest a man for a thing he -couldn’t help let them do it. He didn’t absolutely know what was in the -order and if he could sit in the bull pen the troop could sit in its -underwear. It was nothing whatever to him. - -He grinned malevolently, however, when he saw the captain and the two -lieutenants of the troop leaving camp in a machine in the direction of -the city. - -“All right,” he said to himself. “We’ll see something later, that’s all. -The old boy will be crazy about this.” - -The old boy being the general. - -In the barracks black despair was in Sergeant Gray’s heart. He made a -wild effort to retrieve his new uniform from the heap which was to be -carried out and burned, but the troop were a unit against him. - -“Aw, keep still!” they said in effect. “You got us into this, and you’ll -stick it out with us.” - -“I’ve got leave, fellows,” he appealed to the other noncoms. “I’ve got -an engagement too.” - -“We know. To breakfast with the general,” sneered the stable sergeant. -“Well, you’d better send your regrets.” - -At ten-fifteen the troop, having waited an hour, were growing uneasy, -and Sergeant Gray was stationed at a window, watching three men in -slickers tending a fire of mammoth proportions. At ten-thirty, going to -a window in one of the two upper squad rooms, he made out a small car -down the road, and a girl with a pink hat in it. There was no supply -sergeant in sight. - -At ten forty-five a scout patrol in slickers having been sent out -reported the supply sergeant not in the camp quartermaster’s office, as -observed through a window, and the troop officers as having gone for the -day. - -Black despair, then, in a hundred and ninety-five hearts, but in no one -of them such agony as in Sergeant Gray’s. Clad in an army slicker he -made a dozen abortive attempts to borrow a uniform from tall men in -other companies, but inspection was on, and had commenced with the -Headquarters Troop. Not a man dared to be found with less than -“breeches, O. D. wool, prs., two.” And blouses the same. - -At eleven o’clock with the glare of frenzy in his eyes Sergeant Gray put -on a slicker, put his pass in his pocket and left the barracks. Outside -the door he hesitated. The sun was gleaming from a hot sky, and there -was no wind. The absence of wind, he felt, was in his favour. During his -hurried walk toward the little car he was feeling in his mind for some -excuse for the slicker, but he found himself beside the car before he -had found anything to satisfy him. - -“You are late,” said the girl severely. - -“Awfully busy morning,” he explained. “Inspection and—er—all that. -There’s a lot to get ready,” he added mysteriously. - -He was aware of her careful scrutiny, and he flushed guiltily. As for -the girl, she seemed satisfied with what she saw. He was a gentleman, -clearly. But a slicker! - -“You’d better take that raincoat back,” she observed. “You won’t need -it. It’s going to be clear and hot.” - -“I guess I’ll take it, anyhow.” - -“You’ll be checking it somewhere, and then forgetting to get it again.” - -He was frightfully uneasy. She was the sort of girl who seemed bent on -getting her own way. So he muttered something about having a cold, and -she countered with a flat statement that he would get more if he dressed -too warmly. - -They had reached what amounted to an _impasse_ when a small boy flung a -card into the car. - -“Don’t bother about it,” said the girl as he stooped to get it. “I have -one in my pocket for you.” - -“Thanks, awfully,” said the sergeant, rather surprised. “What is it? A -theatre ticket?” - -She did not reply at once. He saw that they were passing the end of the -trolley line and going on. He had a little thrill of mingled delight and -uneasiness. He had had no plans particularly, except to see her again. -His only program had been destroyed in the bonfire. - -Suddenly she drew the little car up beside the road. - -“Have you anything you want particularly to do to-day?” she asked. - -“I was just going to play round.” - -“Would you like to do a real service? A national service?” - -“I seem to be doing it most of the time,” he observed with some -bitterness. - -“You said yesterday you were going to have your picture taken.” - -Good heavens, was this marvel, this creature from another world, going -to ask for his photograph? - -“I would, but this eye——” - -“See here,” she said briskly. “I want you to get your picture taken. I -want it for a special reason. And I want you to go”—she felt in her -pocket and pulled out a card—“I want you to go to this man.” - -“I see,” he said, and took the card. “Friend of yours?” - -“Certainly not!” - -“Does he take good photographs?” - -“I don’t know. You might read the card.” - -He read it carefully. It merely stated that J. M. Booth of a certain -number on Twenty-Second Street made excellent photographs very cheap, -filled rush orders for soldiers, and gave them a special discount. He -even turned it over, but the other side was blank. - -“I don’t get it, I guess,” he said at last. “What’s the answer?” - -“The more I see of army men the less imagination I find,” was her -surprising reply. “I took that card last night to the—to an officer I -know; and he was just like you. I hope you put more intelligence into -your fighting than you do into other things. How many soldiers do you -suppose have gone to that man?” - -“Well, I’ll be one, anyhow.” - -He rose gallantly to the occasion. - -“A good many hundred, probably. As each division comes in and gets leave -they all run to get their pictures taken, don’t they? And they want them -by a certain time? Why? Because they’re going to sail, of course.” - -“There’s no argument on my part.” - -“But suppose that man’s name isn’t Booth? Suppose I told you he’d once -been the court photographer at Vienna?” - -Sergeant Gray whistled. - -“Are you telling me that?” - -“I am. My dressmaker is in the same building. She told me. He showed her -a lot of photographs of the royal family.” - -Every boy has longed at some period of his life to be a detective. -Sergeant Gray suddenly felt the fine frenzy of the sleuth. But there was -disappointment too. - -“So that’s why you picked me up last night?” - -“Not at all. But it’s why I came for you this morning.” - -“Would you mind explaining that?” - -“Not at all. I picked you up because I carry all the boys I can to the -street car. But after we had talked I felt you would understand. Some of -them wouldn’t.” - -Sergeant Gray at once put on the expression of one who understood -perfectly. But happening to glance down, the better to reflect, he saw -that the slicker had slid back an inch or so, revealing that amount of a -knee that was not covered with khaki. He blushed furiously, but the -girl’s eyes were on the road ahead. - -“I do hope you’ll help me out,” she was saying. “It wouldn’t be of any -use for me to go, you know. But I’ll go with you. I’ll be your sister if -you don’t mind.” - -It was on the tip of his tongue to say that there were other -relationships he would prefer, but he did not. She was not that sort of -a girl. And he was uneasily aware, too, that her interest in him was -purely academic. Not that he put it that way, of course. - -“The one thing you mustn’t do,” she warned him, “is to tell when you -actually sail. I thought you might say that the submarine trouble has -held up all sailings, and you’re not going for a month.” - -“All right,” he agreed. - -“Just when do you sail?” she asked suddenly. - -He was exceedingly troubled. He had no finesse, and here was a -point-blank question. He answered it bluntly. - -“Sorry. I can’t tell you.” - -“You’re a good boy,” she said with approval. “I know anyhow, so it -doesn’t matter. I just wondered if you would tell.” - -“You know a lot of things,” was his admiring comment. - -Half an hour later he was following the girl into a dingy elevator. He -was suffering the pangs of bitter disappointment, for on his observing -that if the fellow tried to find out when the division was sailing he -would throw him out of the window the girl had turned on him sharply. - -“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” she said. “You’ll tell him what we’ve -agreed on, and that’s all.” - -“All?” he had protested. “And let him get away with it?” - -“We’ll decide what to do later,” she had answered cryptically. And -somehow he had felt that he had fallen in her estimation. - -In the elevator she said out of a clear sky: “You’ll have to take that -raincoat off, of course.” - -He swallowed nervously. - -“Sure I will,” he replied. “But—look here, you don’t mind if I ask you -to stay out while I’m being done, do you? I—I’m funny about pictures. I -don’t like any one round. Queer thing,” he went on desperately, seeing -her face. “Always been like that. I——” - -“I didn’t come here to see you have a photograph taken,” she replied -coldly. - -For the next half hour he did not see her. He was extremely busy. - -J. M. Booth proved to be a slow worker. Sergeant Gray, who had been -recently mixing with all races in the Army, was quick to see that he -spoke fluent English with a slight burr. - -“French, aren’t you?” he asked genially while Mr. Booth shifted the -scenery. - -“Alsatian,” corroborated Mr. Booth. “But this is my country. I have even -taken an American name. Now if you will remove the raincoat——” - -Sergeant Gray moved a step nearer to him. - -“Can’t,” he explained in a low tone. “Nothing under it. You’ll have to -shoot as I am.” - -“No uniform?” - -“No uniform. What d’you think of a country that will send fellows to -fight like that, eh?” - -Mr. Booth’s small black eyes peered at him suspiciously. - -“Is it possible?” he demanded. “This great country, so rich, and—no -uniforms.” - -“Uniforms!” continued Sergeant Gray, beginning to enjoy himself hugely. -“Why, say, we haven’t anything! No guns worth the name, not enough -shoes. Why, a fellow in my company’s wearing two rights at this minute. -And as for uniforms—why, I’ll tell you this—my whole company’s going -round to-day like this, slickers and nothing else.” - -“Amazing!” commented Mr. Booth unctuously. “We hear of so much money -being spent, and yet nothing to show for it.” - -“Graft!” explained the sergeant in a very deep bass. “Graft, that’s what -it is!” - -Mr. Booth seemed temporarily to forget that he was there to take a -picture. - -“But you—we will come out all right,” he observed, watching the sergeant -closely. “We have so much. The Browning gun, now—do you know about that? -It is wonderful, not so?” - -“Wonderful?” queried the sergeant, feeling happier than he had for some -time. “Well, I’m a machine gunner; and if we’re to get anywhere we’ve -got to do better than the Browning.” He had a second’s uneasiness then, -until he remembered that he wore no insignia. “It heats. It jams. It——” -Here ended his knowledge of machine guns. “It’s rotten, that’s all.” - -Mr. Booth was moistening his lips. - -“It’s sad news,” he observed. “I—but this Liberty motor—I understand -it’s a success.” - -“You’d better not ask me about that,” said the sergeant gravely. “Ever -since my brother went down——” - -“Went down? Fell?” - -“Aviation. Engine too heavy for the wings. Got up a hundred feet—first -plane, you know, testing it out. And——” - -He drew a long breath. - -“I wonder,” said Mr. Booth, “if you would care for a little drink? I -keep some here for the boys. The city’s a dry place for soldiers. It’ll -cheer you up.” - -“I’m off liquor.” It was the first truth he had spoken for some time, -and it sounded strange to his ears. “Rotten food and all that. Can’t -drink. That’s straight.” - -It had not been lost on him that Mr. Booth was endeavoring to conceal a -vast cheerfulness; also that his refusal to drink was unexpected. - -“Better have the picture, old top,” he observed. “Better get this eye on -the off side, hadn’t you?” - -For some five minutes Mr. Booth alternately disappeared under a black -cloth and reappeared again. The sergeant felt that under a pretence of -focusing he was being subjected to a close scrutiny, and bore himself -carefully and well. - -When at last it was over Mr. Booth put a question. “Want these in a -hurry, I suppose?” - -“Hurry? Why?” - -“Most of the boys are just about to sail. They come in here and give me -two days, three days. It is not enough.” - -“Well, I can give you a month if you want it.” - -“You’re not going soon, then?” - -“I should say not! Do you think Uncle Sam’s going to trust any -transports out with these German submarines about? I guess not!” - -There was no question as to Mr. Booth’s excitement now. His round face -fairly twitched. - -“But you cannot know that,” he said. “That is camp talk, eh?” - -“Not on your life!” said the sergeant, and went closer to him. “I got a -cousin in headquarters; and he saw the order from Washington.” - -“What was the order? You remember it, eh?” - -“All orders for troops to sail during month of June canceled,” lied the -sergeant glibly. “Not likely to forget that, old top, with a month to -play round in your dear old town.” - -He was filled with admiration of himself. And under that admiration was -swelling and growing a great loathing for the creature before him. He -would fill him with lies as full as he would hold. And then he would get -him. But he would consult the girl about that. She had forbidden -violence, but when she knew the facts—— - -He gave his name and put down a deposit. - -“You are sure you are in no hurry?” asked Mr. Booth, scrutinising him -carefully. - -“I wish I was as sure of a uniform.” - -The girl was waiting, and together they went down to the street. Though -her eyes were eager she asked no questions. She preceded Sergeant Gray -to the little car and got in. And suddenly a chill struck to the -sergeant’s heart. - -On the pavement, eying him with cold and glittering eyes, were the -stable sergeant, the troop mess sergeant, the second mess sergeant and -two corporals. Like himself they wore slickers to cover certain -deficiencies, and unlike him they wore an expression of cold and -calculating deviltry. - -“Hello!” they said, and surrounded him. “Having a good time?” - -He cast an agonised glance at the car. The girl was looking ahead. - -“Pretty fair,” he replied; and calculated the distance to the car. - -“We’ve been keeping an eye open for you,” said the stable sergeant, -stepping between him and the car. “We want to have a word with you.” - -“I’ll meet you somewhere.” There was pleading in his voice. “Anywhere -you say, in an hour.” Their faces were cold and unrelenting. “In a half -hour, then.” - -“What we’ve got to do won’t wait,” observed the stable sergeant. “How do -you think we like going about like this anyhow? Our only chance to have -a time, and going round like a lot of lunatics. We warned you, didn’t -we? We——” - -Sergeant Gray knew what was coming. He had known it with deadly -certainty from the moment he saw that menacing group, cold of eye but -hot of face. And strong as he was he was no match for five of them, -hardened with months of training and infuriated with outrage. - -“I’m with a young lady, fellows,” he pleaded. “Don’t make a row here. If -you’ll only wait——” - -“Oh, there won’t be any row,” observed the stable sergeant. “You take -off that slicker, that’s all.” - -“Not here! For heaven’s sake, fellows, not on the street! I tell you -I’ve got a girl with me. A nice girl. A——” - -The stable sergeant hesitated and glanced toward the car. - -“All right,” he said. “But we’re going to take that slicker back to -camp. We promised the troop. You can step inside that door. I guess -that’s satisfactory?” - -He glanced at the group, which nodded grimly. - -For an instant Sergeant Gray was tempted to run and chance it, but the -girl had turned her head and was watching them curiously. Hope died in -him. He could neither run nor fight. And the group closed in on him. - -“’Bout face—march!” said the stable sergeant. - -And he marched. - -Inside the hallway, behind the elevator, however, he turned loose with -his fists. He fought desperately, using his long arms with accuracy and -precision. One of the corporals went down first. The second mess -sergeant followed him. But the result was inevitable. Inside of three -minutes the girl saw the little group returning to the street. One -corporal held a handkerchief to his lip, and the first mess sergeant was -holding together a slicker which had no longer any clasps. The stable -sergeant, however, was calm and happy. He carried a slicker over his -arm. - -“Sergeant Gray’s compliments, miss,” he said, saluting. Then, as an -afterthought of particular fiendishness: “And he will be engaged for -some time. If you would take charge of this slicker he’ll be much -obliged to you.” - -He saluted again, and the group swaggered down the street. - -The girl sat in the car and looked after them. Then she glanced at the -slicker, and a little frown gathered between her eyes. Had he, against -her orders, gone back to deal with Mr. Booth alone? She was mystified -and not a little indignant, and when she started the car again it was -with a jerk of irritation. - -Inside the hallway, behind the elevator, cursed and raged Sergeant Gray. -At every step in the doorway he shook with apprehension. Behind him -stretched a wooden staircase, toward which he cast agonised eyes. The -elevator came down, discharged its passengers, filled again and went up. -Outside in the brilliant street thousands of feet passed, carrying -people fully clothed and entitled to a place in the sun. Momentarily he -expected the climax of his wretchedness—that the girl would tire of -waiting and come into the building. He plucked up courage after a time -to peer round the corner of the elevator. The car was gone. - -“What’ll she think of me?” he groaned. - -Wild schemes of revenge surged in him. Murder with torture was among -them. And always while he cursed and planned his eyes were on the -staircase behind him. - -Came a time, however, when the elevator descended empty, and the elderly -man on the stool inside prepared to read a newspaper. He was startled by -a husky whisper just beneath his left ear. - -“Say, come here a minute, will you?” - -He turned. Through the grille beside him a desperate face with one black -eye was staring at him. - -“Come here yourself,” he returned uneasily. - -With a wild rush the owner of the face catapulted into the elevator and -closed the grating. Then he turned and faced him. - -“Run me up, quick!” - -“Good God!” said the elevator man. - -There were steps in the entrance. With a frenzied gesture Sergeant Gray, -of the Headquarters Troop of the ——th Division, gave a pull at the -lever. The car descended with a jerk. - -“Leggo that thing,” said the elevator man, now wildly terrified. “Want -to shoot down into the subway?” - -Thoroughly frenzied, Sergeant Gray pulled the lever the other way. The -car stopped, trembled, ascended. For a moment two stenographers waiting -on the ground floor had a vision of a strange figure in undershirt, -cotton, one, and nether garments to match, surmounted by a distorted -face, passing on its way to the upper floors. - -Sergeant Gray surrendered the lever, and ran a trembling hand across his -forehead. - -“You’ve got to hide me somewhere,” he shouted. “Look at me!” - -“I see you,” said the elevator man. “Y’ought to be ashamed of yourself.” - -“You’ve got to hide me,” insisted Sergeant Gray; “and then you’ve got to -go out and buy me some clothes.” - -They had reached the top floor, and the car had stopped. - -“I’ll tell you later. You can get me a pair of pants somewhere, can’t -you?” - -There was pleading in his voice. Almost tears. But the tears were of -rage. - -“I’ll lose my job if I leave this car,” observed the elevator man. He -had recovered from his fright, and besides he had recognised the boy’s -service hat. - -“Soldier, aren’t you?” - -“Yes. Look here, old man, I’m in a devil of a mess. Lot of our fellows, -met them outside—it’s a joke. I’ll joke them!” he added vindictively. - -“Some fellows got a queer idea of humour,” observed the elevator man. “I -might send out for you. Got any money?” - -The full depth of his helplessness struck Sergeant Gray then and turned -him cold. His money, thirty-nine dollars and sixteen cents, was in the -slicker. - -“They took my money too.” - -The elevator man’s face grew not less interested but more suspicious. - -“Why don’t you get a good story while you’re at it?” he demanded. “Looks -like you’re running away from something.” - -“Great heavens, I should think I am!” - -“You fellows,” observed the elevator man, “think you can come to this -town and raise hell and then pull some soldier stuff and get out of it. -Well, you haven’t any effect on me.” - -The buzzer in the cage had been ringing insistently. - -“I’ll have to go down. Crawl out, son.” - -“Crawl out! Where to?” - -“Don’t know. Can’t let you in an office. You may find some place.” He -threw open the door. “Out with you!” he commanded. “I’ll look you up -later.” - -“Run me to the cellar,” gasped Sergeant Gray. - -“Tailor’s shop there. Full of girls.” - -With a hoarse imprecation Sergeant Gray left the elevator and scuttled -down the hallway. To his maddened ears the place was full of sounds, of -voices inside doorways and about to emerge, of footsteps, of hideous -laughter. He had wild visions of finding a window and a roof, even of -jumping off it. Then—he saw on a door the name of J. M. Booth, -Photographer; and hope leaped in his heart. - -He opened the door cautiously and peered within. All was silent. On the -table in the reception room lay still open the album with which the girl -had amused herself while she waited, and over a couch—oh, joy -supreme!—there was flung an Indian blanket. He caught it up and wrapped -it about him; and the madness left him. Such as it was, he was clothed. - -Still cautiously, however, he advanced to the studio. All was quiet -there, but beyond he could hear water running, and the careful handling -of photographers’ plates. Mr. Booth, erstwhile of Vienna, was within and -busy. It irked the sergeant profoundly that to such unworthy refuge he -was driven for shelter, but he squared his shoulders and advanced. Then -suddenly he heard footsteps in the outer room, footsteps that advanced -deliberately and relentlessly. - -Wild fear shook him again. He looked round him frantically, and then -sought refuge. In a corner behind a piece of scenery which was intended -to show the sitter in an Italian garden, Sergeant Gray of the ——th -Division sought shameful sanctuary. - - -Somewhat later in the day the general, having a broiled squab and -mushrooms under glass in a window at the best restaurant in the city, -put on his glasses and looked out over the surging tide in the brilliant -sunlight of the street. Just opposite him, moving sedately, was a group -of soldiers. - -“I wish you’d tell me,” said the general testily to the aide-de-camp -whose particular joy it was to lunch with him, “what the deuce those -fellows are doing in slickers on a day like this.” - -“No accounting for the vagaries of enlisted men, sir,” returned the -aide, ordering a _demi-tasse_. - - - - - IV - - -At that exact moment the elevator man, having a moment’s leisure after -the lunch rush, made his way back along the corridor where he had left a -wild-eyed refugee. All was quiet. In the office of the National Asphalt -Company the clicking of typewriters showed that no fleeing soldier, -seeking sanctuary and a pair of trousers, had upset the day’s pavements. -Dolls and Wigs was calm. Coat Fronts remained inadequate and still. - -He wandered back, his face twisted in a dry grin. Then suddenly from -Booth, Photographer, he heard a wild yell. This was followed by the -crash of a heavy body, a number of smothered oaths and a steady softish -thud that sounded extremely like the impact of fists on flesh. - -The elevator man opened the door of Booth, Photographer’s, anteroom and -stuck his head in. The studio beyond showed something on the floor that -stirred in the wrapping of an Indian blanket, while stepping across it -and on it a mad thing in undergarments and a service hat was delivering -blows at something unseen. - -The elevator man carefully reached a hand inside the door and took out -the key. Then as stealthily he closed the door, locked it from the -outside, and moved back swiftly to his cage, where the buzzer showed -that the carpet cleaning company which occupied the fourth floor was in -a hurry and didn’t care who knew it. - -At the end of twenty minutes two roundsmen went up in the cage. Going up -they learned of the preliminaries. - -“Crazy, I guess,” finished the elevator man. “He looked crazy, now I -think about it. Probably killed the lot by this time. Where do you -fellows hide, anyhow?” - -Back in Booth, Photographer, there was a complete and awful silence. -Revolvers ready, the door was opened and the roundsmen sprang in. It -looked like the worst. The Indian blanket nor moved nor quivered. A -chair, overturned, lay on top of it, and against that there leaned -tipsily a photographer’s screen, on which was painted, in grays and -whites, an Italian garden. - -“I’m glad to see you,” called a cheery voice. “I’m glad to see you!” - -Standing in the doorway of the dressing room was a tall young man. He -held a brush in his hand and was still slicking down his hair. - -“How are you, anyhow?” demanded the tall young man, and proceeded to -shake down the leg of a pair of black trousers. “A trifle short, aren’t -they?” he observed. “But they’re a darn sight better than nothing!” - -“Get him, Joe,” said one of the officers casually, and walked toward the -inner room. - -“Oh, I’ll go along all right,” said Sergeant Gray blithely. “It’s worth -the price. I’m only sorry you didn’t see it. I——” - -“Joe!” called the other officer from the inner room. “Come here, will -you?” - -“Mind if I go along?” asked Sergeant Gray. “I’d like to look at ’em -again. I want to remember how they look all the rest of my life.” - -Joe nodded, and Sergeant Gray led the way to the studio. In a corner, -roped tightly to a chair, sat Booth, Photographer. He was bleeding -profusely from a cut on the lip and another over the eye, his head was -bobbing weakly on his shoulders, and he wore, to be exact, one union -suit minus two buttons on the chest and held together by a safety pin. - -Joe stumbling over the Indian blanket heard it groan beneath him, and -uncovered a stout gentleman in a cutaway coat and with his collar torn -off. - -“Pretty good, eh?” demanded Sergeant Gray. “Sorry about the collar, -though. Booth’s is too small for me.” - -“Want an ambulance?” inquired the elevator man with unholy joy in his -eyes. - -“Yes. Better have one.” And to the wreckage: “You gentlemen will be all -right,” said Joe. “How’d this happen, anyhow?” - -“I’ll tell you,” volunteered the sergeant. “They’re spies, that’s what -they are. German spies. D’you get it? And I——” - -“Aw, shut up!” said the first roundsman, wearily. “Take him along, Joe. -Now, how d’you feel, Mr. Booth?” - -“But I tell you——” - -“You don’t tell me anything. You go. That’s all.” - -“Oh, very well,” said Sergeant Gray cheerfully. “You’ll be sorry. That’s -all. Come on, Joe.” He raised his voice in song. - -“Where do we go from here, Joe, where do we go from here?” he sang in a -very deep bass. - -At the centre table he stopped, however, with Joe’s revolver very close -to him, and consulted Mr. Booth’s watch which, with all of his money but -car fare back to camp, lay in a heap there. - -“You might hurry a bit, Joe,” he suggested “I’ve only got twenty-three -and a half hours’ leave, and time’s flying. You’ll observe,” he added, -“that old Booth’s money and watch are here.” He glanced significantly -toward the elevator man. “Eight dollars and ninety cents, Joe,” he said. -“The old boy’ll need it for a doctor.” - - -The general breakfasted rather late the next morning—at seven o’clock. -His ordinary hour was six-thirty. He had eaten three fried eggs, some -fried potatoes, a bran muffin, drunk a cup of coffee, and was trying to -remember if he had made any indiscreet remarks at a dinner party the -night before about Pershing or the General Staff, when an aide came in -with a report. The general read it slowly, then looked up. - -“You mean to say,” he inquired, “that those fellows haven’t had any -clothes since yesterday morning?” - -“No uniforms, sir.” - -“The entire troop?” - -“All except those who were on duty here yesterday, sir. I believe”—the -aide hesitated—“I believe some of them went to town anyhow, sir.” - -“The devil you say!” roared the general. - -“I rather fancy that the men we saw in slickers, sir——” - -Suddenly the general laughed. The aide laughed also. Aides always laugh -when the general does. It is etiquette. When the general had stopped -laughing he became very military again, and swore. - -“We’ll look into it, Tommy,” he said. “It’s a damned shame. Somebody’s -going to pay for it through the nose.” - -This is a little-used phrase, but the general had read it somewhere and -adopted it. It means copiously. - -He was not aware, naturally, that Sergeant Gray was already paying for -it, copiously. - -It was at that precise moment that a little car drew up outside his -quarters. The general smiled and rolled himself a cigarette. - -“Bring me another cup of coffee,” he ordered, “and get another chair, -Tommy.” - -The girl came in. She kissed the general on his right cheek, and then on -his chin, and then stood back and looked at him. - -“I’m in trouble, Uncle Jimmy,” she said. “If a man from the Headquarters -Troop overstays his leave what happens to him?” - -“Court-martialed; maybe shot,” replied the general with a glance at -Tommy, who did not see it as he was looking at the girl. - -“But if it is my fault——” - -“Then you’ll be shot,” said the general cheerily. “Now see here, Peggy, -if you don’t let my young men alone—— What’s that you’re carrying?” - -“It’s a slicker!” said Peggy. - -The general looked at Tommy, and Tommy looked back. - -Peggy told her story, and showed, toward the end, an alarming -disposition to cry. - -“He knew something,” she said. “That—that man Booth was a spy, Uncle -Jimmy. I could hear him asking all sorts of questions, and when the -sergeant came out his face was——” - -“Sergeant, eh?” interrupted Uncle Jimmy. “Any sergeants from the -Headquarters Troop on leave, Tommy?” - -“I’ll find out, sir.” - -Tommy went away. - -“I had got into the car, and he was coming, when three or four other -soldiers came along. They all went back into the building, and I—I -thought they were going to get Mr. Booth. But pretty soon they came out -without him, and one of them gave me this slicker; and—and they all went -away.” - -“Good Lord!” said the general suddenly. “The young devils! The—the young -scamps! So that was it. Now look here, Peggy,” he said, bending forward -with a twinkle. “I—well, I understand, I can’t explain, but it was just -mischief. Your young man’s all right, though where he’s hiding——” - -He broke off and chuckled. - -“He is not at all the hiding sort.” - -“Under certain circumstances, Peggy,” observed the general, “any man -will hide—and should.” - -Some time later, at approximately the hour when Sergeant Gray’s -twenty-three and a half hours’ leave was up, the little car started for -the city. It contained one anxious young lady, one general who rolled -constant cigarettes and chuckled, and one aide on the folding seat in -the back, rather resentful because there was no adequate place for his -legs. - -“I’m going along, Tommy,” the general had said. “It promises to be -rather good, and I need cheering. Besides, under the circumstances, a -member of Miss Peggy’s family——” - -At the building on Twenty-second Street the general got out, leaving -Peggy discreetly in the car. He was a large and very military figure, -and he summoned the elevator man with a single commanding gesture. - -“I want to know,” said the general fixing him with a cold eye, “whether -you happened, yesterday afternoon, to have seen about here an enlisted -man without a uniform?” - -“I did,” said the elevator man unctuously. - -“You did—what?” - -“I did see him.” - -“Say, ‘sir’,” prompted the aide. - -“I did—sir.” It plainly hurt to say it. - -“When and where did you see him last?” - -“At one-thirty, getting into a police wagon—sir.” - -“Exactly,” said the general. “You of course provided him with clothing -before the—er—arrest.” - -“I did not,” said the elevator man, who had by now decided that no man -could bully him, even if he did wear two stars. “He stole a suit. And -before he did that he like to killed two men. Mr. Booth, he’s in the -hospital now; and as for the other gentleman, he was took away in a taxi -last night. If he was one of your men, all I got to say is——” - -“Of no importance whatever,” finished the general coldly. “Find out -where he was taken,” he added to Tommy, and stalked out. The elevator -man followed him with resentful eyes. - -“You tell Pershing, or the Secretary of War, or whatever that is,” he -said venomously, “that his pet wild cat is in the central police -station. I expect he’s in a padded cell. Good-by.” - -An hour later the little car stopped in front of the best restaurant in -town and the general assisted his niece to get out. From the folding -seat behind, two pairs of long legs, one in khaki and one in black -rather too short, disentangled themselves and followed. The best -restaurants in town in the morning present a dishabille appearance of -sweepers, waiters without coats and general dreariness; but the general -took the place by storm. - -“Table for four,” he said. Now that he was doing the thing he was minded -to do it magnificently. “Sit down, sergeant. Tommy, run and telephone, -as I told you, to the Department of Justice. Got to nail those fellows -quick.” - -As one newly awakened from sleep Sergeant sat down beside Peggy. He -presented, up to the neck, the appearance of a Mr. Booth suddenly -elongated as to legs and arms. From the neck up he was a young man who -had found one hundred and seventy-five dollars and the only girl in the -world. - -The general ordered breakfast for four. Then he glanced up from the -menu. - -“Suit you all right, Gray?” - -“Splendidly, sir—unless——” He hesitated. - -“Go ahead,” said the general. “You’ve earned the right to choose what -you like.” - -“I was going to suggest, sir, that I ordinarily have a bran muffin——” - -The general put down the menu and stared at him. Then he chuckled. - -“Might have known it would be you!” he observed. “But _c’est la guerre_, -Gray. _C’est la guerre!_ We’ll have them.” - - - - - V - - -Early that afternoon the stable sergeant of the Headquarters Troop -coming out of divisional headquarters saw the general approaching in a -car much too small for him. Beside him sat an aide, who drove wisely but -not too well. On the rumble seat were a girl, and a youth in civilian -clothes and a service hat. They were in deep, absorbing conversation. - -The stable sergeant came stiffly to the salute, and remained at it, the -general giving no evidence of seeing him and returning it. Then—the -stable sergeant went pale under his tan, for the civilian emerging from -the rear of the machine, and strangely but sufficiently clad, was one -Sergeant Gray of the Headquarters Troop. - -As if this had not been enough he watched the same Sergeant Gray assist -to alight the young lady of yesterday, and it gave no peace to the -stable sergeant’s turbulent soul to behold that young lady giving the -general a patronising pat and then a kiss. - -“Great Scott!” said the stable sergeant feebly. - -But there was more to come, for Sergeant Gray had spied his enemy and -was minded to have official confirmation of a certain fact. Before the -stable sergeant’s incredulous eyes he beheld Gray, of the undergarments, -gauze, et cetera, advance to the general and salute, and then remark in -a very distinct tone: - -“It was very kind of you, sir, to ask me to breakfast.” - -The general looked about under his gray eyebrows and perceived a -situation. - -“Not at all,” he replied in an equally distinct voice. “Glad you liked -my bran muffins.” - -The stable sergeant, who was carrying a saddle, dropped it. Had he not -been stooping he would have observed something very like a wink on the -most military countenance in America. It was directed at Tommy. - -“Good-by, Sergeant Gray,” said the pretty girl, holding out her hand. -“I—I think you are the bravest person! And you will write, won’t you?” - -“I wish I was as sure of my commission.” - -The stable sergeant swallowed hard. - -“But you’ll get that now, of course. I’ll go right in and tell Uncle -Jimmy.” - -“Oh, I say!” protested Sergeant Gray. “You—you mustn’t do that, you -know.” - -“Aw, rats!” muttered the stable sergeant; and clutching the saddle -furiously moved away. Up the road he met a military policeman, and -stopped him. - -“Better grab that fellow.” He indicated Sergeant Gray behind him, now -shamelessly holding the hand of the general’s niece. - -“Why?” - -“Awol,” replied the stable sergeant darkly—being military brevity for -absent without leave. “And you might observe,” he added, “that he isn’t -in uniform.” - -The girl got into the little car. Hat in hand, eyes full of many things -he dared not put into words, Sergeant Gray of the Headquarters Troop of -the ——th Division watched her start the car, smile into his eyes and -move away. He came to at a touch on his arm. - -“What’re you doing in that outfit?” demanded the M. P. sharply. - -“Having an acute attack of heart trouble, if you want to know,” said the -sergeant, staring after the little car. - -“Have to arrest you.” - -“Oh, go to it!” said the sergeant blithely. “I’m used to it now. Look -here,” he added, “your name’s not Joe, by any chance?” - -“You know my name,” said the M. P. sourly. - -“Sorry,” reflected the sergeant. “Don’t mind if I call you Joe, do you? -Always like the men who arrest me to be called Joe. It’s lucky.” - -He stopped and looked back; the little car was almost out of sight. - -“All right, Joe, old top!” he said blithely. And he sang in a deep bass - - “_Where do we go from here, boys? - Where do we go from here? - All the way from Broadway to the Jersey City pier._” - -His voice died away. In his eyes there was suddenly that curious blend -of hope and sadness which shines from the faces of those who love and, -loving, must go away to war. - -“Wait a minute, Joe,” he said. - -And, turning, looked back again. The little car was still in sight, and -the girl, standing up in it, waved her hand. - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF -HOURS’ LEAVE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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