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UNCLE SAM'S BOYS IN THE RANKS

Or

Two Recruits in the United States Army

by

H. IRVING HANCOCK

Author of The Motor Boat Club Series, The High School Series, The West
Point Series, The Annapolis Series, The Young Engineers' Series, Etc.,
Etc.

Illustrated







[Illustration: "And These Are Your Applications?"

_Frontispiece._]



Philadelphia
Henry Altemus Company

Copyright, 1910, by Howard E. Altemus




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                               PAGE

      I. A LESSON IN RESPECT FOR THE UNIFORM          7

     II. AT THE RECRUITING OFFICE                    25

    III. THE ORDEAL OF EXAMINATION                   37

     IV. MRS. BRANDERS GETS A NEW VIEW               54

      V. IN THE AWKWARD SQUAD                        63

     VI. THE TROUBLE WITH CORPORAL SHRIMP            79

    VII. WHEN THE GUARD CAME                         93

   VIII. THE CALL TO COMPANY FORMATION              104

     IX. ORDERED TO THE THIRTY-FOURTH               112

      X. A SWIFT CALL TO DUTY                       123

     XI. GUARDING THE MAIL TRAIN                    129

    XII. THE ROOKIES REACH FORT CLOWDRY             139

   XIII. "TWO NEW GENERALS AMONG US"                149

    XIV. THE SQUAD ROOM HAZING                      158

     XV. PRIVATE BILL HOOPER LEARNS                 167

    XVI. THE MYSTERY OF POST THREE                  178

   XVII. HAL UNDER A FIRE OF QUESTIONS              190

  XVIII. THE ANONYMOUS LETTER                       198

    XIX. A SECRET COWARD                            206

     XX. THE LUCK OF THE YOUNG RECRUIT              212

    XXI. THE DUEL IN THE DARK                       221

   XXII. CAPTAIN CORTLAND HEADS THE PURSUIT         229

  XXIII. THE STIRRING GAME AT DAWN                  238

   XXIV. CONCLUSION                                 250




Uncle Sam's Boys in the Ranks




CHAPTER I

A LESSON IN RESPECT FOR THE UNIFORM


"AW, what's the difference between a soldier and a loafer?" demanded
"Bunny" Hepburn.

"A soldier ain't a loafer, and it takes nerve to be a soldier. It's a
job for the bravest kind of a man," retorted Jud Jeffers indignantly.

"Answer my c'nundrum," insisted Bunny.

"It ain't a decent conundrum," retorted Jud, with dignity, for his
father had served as a volunteer soldier in the war with Spain.

"Go on, Bunny," broke in another boy in the group, laughing. "I'll be
the goat. What is the difference between a soldier and a loafer?"

"A soldier gets paid and fed, and the other loafer doesn't," retorted
Bunny, with a broadening grin. A moment later, when he realized that his
"joke" had failed to raise a laugh, Bunny looked disappointed.

"Aw, go on," flared up Jud Jeffers. "You don't know anything about a
soldier."

"But my dad does," retorted Bunny positively. "Dad says soldiers don't
produce anything for a living; that they take their pay out of the
pockets of the public, and then laugh at the public for fools."

"And what does your father do for a living?" demanded Jud hotly.

"He's a man who knows a lot, and he lectures," declared Bunny, swelling
with importance. "When my dad talks a whole lot of men get excited and
cheer him."

"Yes, and they buy him beer, too," jeered Jud, hot with derision for the
fellow who was running down the soldiers of the United States. "Your
father does his lecturing in small, dirty halls, where there's always a
beer saloon underneath. You talk about men being producers--and your
father goes around making anarchistic speeches to a lot of workingmen
who are down on everything because they aren't clever enough to earn as
good wages as sober, industrious and capable workmen earn."

"Speech, Jud!" laughingly roared another boy in the crowd that now
numbered a score of youngsters.

"Don't you dare talk against my dad!" sputtered Bunny, doubling his
fists and trying to look fierce.

"Then don't say anything against soldiers," retorted Jud indignantly.
"My father was one. I tell you, soldiers are the salt of the earth."

"Say, but they're a fine and dandy-looking lot, anyway," spoke up Tom
Andrews, as he turned toward the post-office window in front of which
the principal actors in this scene were standing. The place was one of
the smaller cities in New Jersey.

In the post-office window hung a many-colored poster, headed "Recruits
Wanted for the United States Army." Soldiers of the various arms of the
service were shown, and in all the types of uniforms worn on the
different occasions.

"Oh, yes, they're a fine and dandy lot of loafers--them soldiers!"
declared Bunny Hepburn contemptuously.

This opinion might not have gotten him into trouble, but he emphasized
his opinion by spitting straight at the glass over the center of the
picture.

"You coward!" choked Jud.

Biff!

Jud Jeffer's fist shot out, with all the force there is in
fourteen-year-old muscle. The fist caught Bunny Hepburn on the side of
the face and sent him sprawling.

"Good for you, Jud!" roared several of the young boys together.

"Go for him, Jud! He's mad, and wants it," called Tom Andrews.

Bunny was mad, all the way through, even before he leaped to his feet.
Yet Bunny was not especially fond of fighting, and his anger was
tempered with caution.

"You dassent do that again," he taunted, dancing about before Jud.

"I will, if you give me the same cause," replied Jud.

Bunny deliberately repeated his offensive act. Then he dodged, but not
fast enough. Jud Jeffer's, his eyes ablaze with righteous indignation,
sent the troublesome one to earth again.

This time Bunny got up really full of fight.

From the opposite side of the street two fine-looking young men of about
eighteen had seen much of what had passed.

"Let's go over and separate them, Hal," proposed the quieter looking of
the pair.

"If you like, Noll, though that young Hepburn rascal deserves about all
that he seems likely to get."

"Jud Jeffers is too decent a young fellow to be allowed to soil his
hands on the Hepburn kid," objected Oliver Terry quietly.

So he and Hal Overton hastened across the street.

Bunny Hepburn was now showing a faint daub of crimson at the lower end
of his nose. Bunny was the larger boy, but Jud by far the braver.

"Here, better stop all of this," broke in Hal good-naturedly, reaching
out and grabbing angry Bunny by the coat collar.

Noll rested a rather friendly though detaining hand on Jud Jeffers's
shoulder.

"Lemme at him!" roared Bunny.

"Yes! Let 'em finish it!" urged three or four of the younger boys.

"What's it all about, anyway?" demanded Hal Overton.

"That fellow insulted his country's uniform. It's as bad as insulting
the Flag itself!" contended Jud hotly.

"That's right," nodded Hal Overton grimly. "I think I saw the whole
thing. You're right to be mad about it, Jud, but this young what-is-it
is too mean for you to soil your hands on him. Now, see here,
Hepburn--right about face for you!"

Hal's grip on the boy's coat collar tightened as he swung Bunny about
and headed him down the street.

"Forward, quick time, march! And don't stop, either, Hepburn, unless you
want to hear Jud pattering down the street after you."

Hal's first shove sent Bunny darting along for a few feet. Bunny
discreetly went down the street several yards before he halted and
lurched into a doorway, from which he peered out with a still hostile
look on his face.

"Your view of the uniform, and of the old Flag, is all right, Jud, and
I'm mighty glad to find that you have such views," Hal continued. "But
you mustn't be too severe on a fellow like Bunny Hepburn. He simply
can't rise above his surroundings, and you know what a miserable,
egotistical, lying, slanderous fellow his father is. Bunny's father
hates the country he lives in, and would set everybody to tearing down
the government. That's the kind of a brainless anarchist Hepburn is, and
you can't expect his dull-witted son to know any more than the father
does. But you keep on, Jud, always respecting the soldier and his
uniform, and the Flag that both stand behind."

"It gets on a good many of us," spoke up Tom Andrews, "to hear Bunny
always running down the soldiers. He believes all his father says, so he
keeps telling us that we're a nation of crooks and thieves, that the
government is the rottenest ever, and that our soldiers and sailors are
the biggest loafers of the whole American lot."

"It's enough to disgust anybody," spoke up Oliver Terry quietly. "But,
boys, people who talk the way the Hepburns do are never worth fighting
with. And, unless they're stung hard, they won't fight, anyway."

"Oh, won't they?" growled Bunny, who, listening to all this talk with a
flaming face, now retreated down the street. "Wait until I tell dad all
about this nonsense about the Flag and the uniform!"

Hal and Noll stood for some moments gazing at the attractive recruiting
poster in the post-office window. One by one the boys who had gathered
went off in search of other interest or sport, until only Jud and Tom
remained near the two older boys.

"I reckon you think I was foolish, don't you, Hal?" asked Jud, at last.

"No; not just that," replied Overton, turning, with a smile. "No
American can ever be foolish to insist on respect for the country's Flag
and uniform."

"I simply can't stand by and hear soldiers sneered at. My father was a
soldier, you know, even if he was only a war-time volunteer, and didn't
serve a whole year."

"When you get out of patience with fellows like Bunny Hepburn,"
suggested Noll Terry, "just you compare your father with a fellow like
Bunny's father. You know, well enough, that your father, as a useful and
valuable citizen, is worth more than a thousand Hepburns can ever be."

"That's right," nodded Hal, with vigor. "And there's another man in this
town that you can compare with Bunny's father. You know Mr. Wright?
Sergeant Wright is his proper title. He's an old, retired sergeant from
the Regular Army, who served his country fighting Indians and Spaniards,
and now he has settled down here--a fine, upright, honest American,
middle aged, and with retired pay and savings enough to support him as
long as he lives. I haven't met many men as fine as Sergeant Wright."

"I know," nodded Jud, his eyes shining. "Sergeant Wright is a fine man.
Sometimes he talks to Tom and me an hour at a time, telling us all about
the campaigns he has served in. Say, Hal, you and Noll ought to call on
him and ask him for some of his grand old Indian stories."

"We know some of them," laughed Hal. "Noll and I have been calling there
often."

"You have?" said Jud gleefully. "Say, ain't Sergeant Wright one of the
finest men ever? I'll bet he's been a regular up-and-down hero himself,
though he never tells us anything about his own big deeds."

"He wears the medal of Congress," replied Hal warmly. "A soldier who
wears that doesn't need to brag."

"Say," remarked Jud thoughtfully, "I guess you two fellows are about as
much struck with the soldiers as I am."

"I'll tell you and Tom something--if you can keep a secret," replied Hal
Overton, after a side glance at his chum.

"Oh, we can keep secrets all right!" protested Tom Andrews.

"Well, then, fellows, Noll and I are going to New York to-morrow, to try
to enlist in the Regular Army."

"You are?" gasped Jud, staring at Hal and Noll in round-eyed delight.
"Oh, say, but you two ought to make dandy soldiers!"

"If the recruiting officer accepts us we'll do the best that's in us,"
smiled Hal.

"You'll be regular heroes!" predicted Jud, gazing at these two fortunate
youngsters with eyes wide open with approval.

"Oh, no, we can't be heroes," grimaced Noll. "We're going to be
regulars, and it's only the volunteers who are allowed to be heroes, you
know," added Noll jocosely. "There's nothing heroic about a regular
fighting bravely. That's his trade and his training."

"Don't you youngsters tell anyone," Hal insisted. "Or we shall be sorry
that we told you."

"What do you take us for?" demanded Jud scornfully.

Hal and Noll had had it in mind to stroll off by themselves, for this
was likely to be their last day in the home town for many a day to come.
But Jud and Tom were full of hero worship of the two budding soldier
boys, and walked along with them.

"There's Tip Branders," muttered Tom suddenly.

"I don't care," retorted Jud. "He won't dare try anything on us; and, if
he does, we can take care of him."

"What has Tip against you?" asked Hal Overton.

"He tried to thrash me, yesterday."

"Why?"

"I guess it was because I told him what I thought of him," admitted Jud,
with a grin.

"How did that happen?"

"Well, Tom and I were down in City Hall Park, sitting on one of the
benches. Tip came along and ordered us off the bench; said he wanted to
sit there himself. I told him he was a loafer and told him we wouldn't
get off the bench for anybody like him."

"And then?" asked Hal.

"Why, Tip just made a dive for me, and there was trouble in his eyes; so
I reconsidered, and made a quick get-away. So did Tom. Tip chased us a
little way, but we went so fast that we made it too much work for him.
So he halted, but yelled after us that he'd tan us the next time he got
close enough."

Tip Branders surely deserved the epithet of "loafer." Though only
nineteen he had the look of being past twenty-one. He was a big,
powerful fellow. Though he had not been at school since he was fifteen,
Tip had not worked three months in the last four years. His mother, who
kept a large and prosperous boarding-house, regarded Tip as being one of
the manliest fellows in the world. She abetted his idleness by supplying
him with too much money. Tip dressed well, though a bit loudly, and
walked with a swagger. He was in a fair way to go through life without
becoming anything more than a bully.

Hal Overton, on the other hand, was a quiet though merry young man, just
above medium height, slim, though well built, brown-haired, blue-eyed,
and a capable, industrious young fellow. The elder Overton was a clerk
in a local store. Ill-health through many years had kept the father from
prospering, and Hal, after two years in High School, had gone to work in
the same store with his father at the age of sixteen.

Oliver Terry, too, had been at work since the age of sixteen. Noll's
father was engineer at one of the local machine shops, so Noll had gone
into one of the lathe rooms, and was already accounted a very fair young
mechanic.

Both were only sons; and, in the case of each, the fathers and mothers
had felt sorry, indeed, to see the young men go to work before they had
at least completed their High School courses.

By this time the fathers of both Hal and Noll had found themselves in
somewhat better circumstances. Hal and Noll, being ambitious, had both
felt dissatisfied, of late, with their surroundings and prospects, and
both had received parental permission to better themselves if they
could. So our two young friends, after many talks, and especially with
Sergeant Wright, had decided to serve at least three years in the
regular army by way of preliminary training.

Unfortunately, few American youths, comparatively speaking, are aware of
the splendid training that the United States Army offers to a young
American. The Army offers splendid grounding for the young man who
prefers to serve but a single enlistment and then return to civil life.
But it also offers a solidly good career to the young man who enlists
and remains with the colors until he is retired after thirty years of
continuous service.

Both Hal and Noll had looked thoroughly into the question, and each was
now convinced that the Army offered him the best place in life. Both
boys had very definite ideas of what they expected to accomplish by
entering the Army, as will appear presently.

Tip--even Tip Branders--had something of an ambition in life. So far as
he had done anything, Tip had "trained" with a gang of young hoodlums
who were "useful" to the political machine in one of the tough wards of
the little city. Tip's ultimate idea was to "get a city job," at good
pay, and do little or nothing for the pay.

But Tip dreaded a civil service examination--knew, in fact, that he
could not pass one. In most American cities, to-day, an honorably
discharged enlisted man from the Army or Navy is allowed to take an
appointment to a city position without civil service examination, or
else to do so on a lower marking than would be accepted from any other
candidate for a city job.

So, curiously enough, Tip had decided to serve in the United States
Army. One term would be enough to serve his purpose.

Tip, too, had kept his resolve a secret--even from his mother.

As Hal and Noll, Jud and Tom strolled along they came up with Tip
Branders.

"So this is you, you little freshy!" growled Tip, halting suddenly, and
close to Jud. "Now I'll give ye the thrashing I promised yesterday."

His big fist shot out, making a grab for young Jeffers.

But Hal Overton caught the wrist of that hand, and shoved it back.

"That doesn't look exactly manly in you, Branders," remarked Hal
quietly.

"Oh, it doesn't, hey?" roared Tip. "What have you got to say about it?"

"Nothing in particular," admitted Hal pleasantly. "Nothing, except that
I'd rather see you tackle some one nearer your own size."

"Would, hey?" roared Tip. "O. K!"

With that he swung suddenly, and so unexpectedly that the blow caught
Hal Overton unawares, sending him to the sidewalk.

"I believe I'll take a small hand in this," murmured Noll Terry,
starting to take off his coat.

But Hal was up in a twinkling.

"Leave this to me, please, Noll," he begged, and sailed in.

Tip Branders was waiting, with an ugly grin on his face. He was far
bigger than Hal, and stronger, too. Yet, for the first few moments, Tip
had all he could do to ward off Hal's swift, clever blows.

Then Tip swung around swiftly, taking the aggressive.

It seemed like a bad mistake, for now Hal suddenly drove in a blow that
landed on Brander's nose, drawing the blood.

"Now, I'll fix ye for that!" roared Tip, after backing off for an
instant.

Just as he was about to charge again the big bully felt a strong grip on
his collar, while a deep, firm voice warned him:

"Don't do anything of the sort, Branders, or I'll have to summon an
officer to take you in."

Tip wheeled, to find himself looking into the grizzled face of Chief of
Police Blake. Tip often bragged of his political "pull," but he knew he
had none with this chief.

"I got a right to smash this fellow," blustered Tip. "He hit me."

"I'll wager you hit him first, though, or else gave young Overton good
cause for hitting you," smiled the chief. "I know Overton, and he's the
kind of boy his neighbors can vouch for. I don't know as much good of
you. But I'll tell you, Tip, how you can best win my good opinion. Take
a walk--a good, brisk walk--straight down the street. And start now!"

Something in the police chief's voice told Tip that it would be well to
obey. He did so.

"Too many young fellows like him on the street," observed Chief Blake,
with a quiet smile. "Good morning, boys."

At the next corner Hal and Noll turned.

"Oh, you're going to see Sergeant Wright?" asked Jud.

"Yes," nodded Hal. "Our last visit to him."

"Then you won't want us along," said Jud sensibly. "But say, we wish you
barrels of luck--honest--in the new life you're going into."

"Thank you," laughed Hal good-humoredly, holding out his hand.

"Send me a brass button soon, one that you've worn on your uniform
blouse, will you?" begged Jud.

"Yes," agreed Hal, "if there's nothing in the regulations against it."

"And you, Noll? Will you do as much for me?" begged Tom.

"Surely, on the same conditions," promised Noll Terry.

"But we haven't succeeded in getting into the service yet, you must
remember," Hal warned them.

"Oh, shucks!" retorted Jud. "I wish I were as sure of anything that I
want. The recruiting officer'll be tickled to death when he sees you two
walking in on him."

"I hope you're a real, true prophet, Jud," replied Hal, with a wistful
smile.

Neither of these two younger boys had any idea how utterly Hal Overton
had set his heart on entering the service, nor why. The reader will
presently discover more about the surging "why."

On one of the side streets the boys paused before the door of a cozy,
little cottage in which lived Sergeant Wright and the wife who had been
with him nearly the whole of his time in the service.

Ere they could ring the bell the door opened, and Sergeant Wright, U. S.
Army, retired, stood before them, holding out his hand.

"Well, boys," was the kindly greeting of this fine-looking, middle-aged
man, "have you settled the whole matter at home?"

"Yes," nodded Hal happily. "We go to New York, to-morrow, to try our
luck with the recruiting officer."

"Come right in, boys, and we'll have our final talk about the good old
Army," cried the retired sergeant heartily.

It was that same afternoon that Tip Branders next espied Jud and Tom
coming down a street. Tip darted into a doorway, intent on lying in wait
for the pair.

As they neared his place of hiding, however, Tip heard Jud and Tom
talking of something that changed his plan.

"What's that?" echoed Tip to himself, straining his hearing.

"Say," breathed Tom Andrews fervently, "wouldn't it be fine if we could
go to New York to-morrow morning, too, and see Hal and Noll sworn into
the United States Army?"

Tip held his breath, listening for more. He heard enough to put him in
possession of practically all of the plans of Hal and Noll.

"Oho!" chuckled Tip, as he strode away from the place later. "So that
pair of boobs are going to try for the Army. Oh, I daresay they'll get
in. But so will I--and in the same company with them. I wouldn't have
missed this for anything. I'll be the thorn in Hal Overton's side the
little while that he'll be in the service! I've more than to-day's
business to settle with that stuck-up dude!"

All of which will soon appear and be made plain.




CHAPTER II

AT THE RECRUITING OFFICE


THE solemn time came the following morning.

Both Hal and Noll were "only children," or, at least, so thought their
mothers.

Messrs. Overton and Terry, the elders, gave their sons' hands a last
strong grip. No good advice was offered by either father at parting.
That had already been attended to.

Naturally the boys' mothers cried a good bit over them. Both mothers, in
fact, had wanted to go over to New York with their sons. But the fathers
had objected that this would only prolong the pain of parting, and that
soldiers in the bud should not be unfitted for their beginnings by
tears.

So Hal and Noll met at the station, to take an early morning train.
There were no relatives to see them off. Early as the hour was, though,
Jud Jeffers and Tom Andrews had made a point of being on hand.

"We wanted to see you start," explained Jud, his face beaming and eyes
wistful with longing. "We didn't know what train you'd take, so we've
been here since half-past six."

"We may be back by early afternoon," laughed Hal.

"Not you two!" declared Jud positively. "The recruiting officer will
jump right up, shake hands with you, and drag you over to where you sign
the Army rolls."

The train came along in time to put a stop to a long conversation.

As the two would-be soldiers stepped up to the train platform Jud and
Tom did their best to volley them with cheers.

Noll blushed, darting into a car as quickly as he could, and sitting on
the opposite side of the train from these noisy young admirers.

Hal, however, good-humoredly waved his hand from a window as the train
pulled out. Then, with a very solemn face, all of a sudden, young
Overton crossed and seated himself beside his chum.

Neither boy carried any baggage whatever. If they failed to get into the
Army they would soon be home again. If they succeeded in enlisting, then
the Army authorities would furnish all the baggage to be needed.

"Take your last look at the old town, Hal," Noll urged gravely, as the
train began to move faster. "It may be years before we see the good old
place again."

"Oh, keep a stiff upper lip, Noll," smiled Hal, though he, also, felt
rather blue for the moment. "Our folks will be down to the recruit
drilling place to see us, soon, if we succeed in getting enrolled."

It hurt both boys a bit, as long as any part of their home city remained
in sight. Each tried bravely, however, to look as though going away from
home had been a frequent occurrence in their lives.

By the time that they were ten miles on their way both youngsters had
recovered their spirits. Indeed, now they were looking forward with
almost feverish eagerness to their meeting the recruiting officer.

"I hope the Army surgeon doesn't find anything wrong with our physical
condition," said Hal, at last.

"Dr. Brooks didn't," replied Noll, as confidently as though that settled
it.

"But Dr. Brooks has never been an Army surgeon," returned Hal. "He may
not know all the fine points that Army surgeons know."

"Well we'll know before the day is over," replied Noll, with a catching
of his breath. "Then, of course, we don't know whether the Army is at
present taking boys under twenty-one."

"The law allows it," declared Hal stoutly.

"Yes; but you remember Sergeant Wright told us, fairly, that sometimes,
when the right sort of recruits are coming along fast, the recruiting
officers shut down on taking any minors."

"I imagine," predicted Hal, "that much more will depend upon how we
happen, individually, to impress the recruiting officer."

In this Hal Overton was very close to being right.

The ride of more than two hours ended at last, bringing the young
would-be soldiers to the ferry on the Jersey side. As they crossed the
North River both boys admitted to themselves that they were becoming a
good deal more nervous.

"We'll get a Broadway surface car, and that will take us right up to
Madison Square," proposed Noll.

"It would take us too long," negatived Hal. "We can save a lot of time
by taking the Sixth Avenue "L" uptown and walking across to Madison
Square."

"You're in a hurry to have it over with?" laughed Noll, but there was a
slight tremor in his voice.

"I'm in a hurry to know my fate," admitted Hal.

Oliver Terry had been in New York but once before. Hal, by virtue of his
superiority in having made four visits to New York, led the way
straight to the elevated railroad. They climbed the stairs, and were
just in time to board a train.

A few minutes later they got out at Twenty-third Street, crossed to
Fifth Avenue and Broadway, then made their way swiftly over to Madison
Square.

"There's the place, over there!" cried Noll, suddenly seizing Hal's arm
and dragging him along. "There's an officer and a man, and the soldier
is holding a banner. It has something on it that says something about
recruits for the Army."

"The man you call an officer is a non-commissioned officer--a sergeant,
in fact," Hal replied. "Don't you see the chevrons on his sleeve?"

"That's so," Noll admitted slowly. "Cavalry, at that. His chevrons and
facings are yellow. It was his fine uniform that made me take him for an
officer."

"We'll go up to the sergeant and ask him where the recruiting office
is," Hal continued.

Certainly the sergeant looked "fine" enough to be an officer. His
uniform was immaculate, rich-looking and faultless. Both sergeant and
private wore the olive khaki, with handsome visored caps of the same
material.

The early April forenoon was somewhat chilly, yet the benches in the
center of the square were more than half-filled by men plainly "down on
their luck." Some of these men, of course, were hopelessly besotted or
vicious, and Uncle Sam had no use for any of these in his Army uniform.
There were other men, however, on the seats, who looked like good and
useful men who had met with hard times. Most of these men on the benches
had not breakfasted, and had no assurance that they would lunch or dine
on that day.

It was to the better elements among these men that the sergeant and the
private soldier were intended to appeal. Yet the sergeant was not
seeking unwilling recruits; he addressed no man who did not first speak
to him.

In the tidy, striking uniforms, their well-built bodies, their well-fed
appearance and their whole air of well-being, these two enlisted men of
the regular army must have presented a powerful, if mute, appeal to the
hungry unfortunate ones on the benches.

"Good morning, Sergeant," spoke Hal, as soon as the two chums had
reached the Army pair.

"Good morning, sir," replied the sergeant.

"You're in the recruiting service?" Hal continued.

"Yes, sir."

Always the invariable "sir" with which the careful soldier answers
citizens. In the Army men are taught the use of that "sir," and to look
upon all citizens as their employers.

"Then no doubt you will direct us to the recruiting office in this
neighborhood?" Hal went on.

"Certainly, sir," answered the sergeant, and wheeling still further
around he pointed north across the square to where the office was
situated.

"You can hardly miss it, sir, with the orderly standing outside," said
the sergeant, smiling.

"No, indeed," Hal agreed. "Thank you very much, Sergeant."

"You're welcome, sir. May I inquire if you are considering enlisting?"

"Both of us are," Hal nodded.

"Glad to hear it, sir," the sergeant continued, looking both boys over
with evident approval. "You look like the clean, solid, sensible, right
sort that we're looking for in the Army. I wish you both the best of
good luck."

"Thank you," Hal acknowledged. "Good morning, Sergeant."

"Good morning, sir."

Still that "sir" to the citizen. The sergeant would drop it, as far as
these two boys were concerned, if they entered the service and became
his subordinates.

It seemed to Hal and Noll as if they could not get over the ground fast
enough until they reached that doorway where the orderly stood. The
orderly directed them how to reach the office upstairs, and both boys,
after thanking him, proceeded rapidly to higher regions.

They soon found themselves before the door. It stood ajar. Inside