The House of Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER XV

  THE HOUSE OF TORCHY

  This trip it was a matter of tanks. No, not the ice-water variety, orthe kind that absorbs high-balls. Army tanks--the sort that wallows outat daybreak and gives the Hun that chilly feelin' down his spine.

  Accordin' to my credentials, I was supposed to be inspectin' 'em forweak spots in the armor or punk work on the gears. And I can tell younow, on the side, that it was 90 per cent. bluff. What the OrdnanceDepartment really wanted to know was whether the work was bein' speededup proper, how many men on the shifts, and was the steel comin' throughfrom the rollin' mills all right. Get me? Sleuth stuff.

  I'd been knockin' around there for four days, bein' towed about by thereserve major, who had a face on him like a stuffed owl, a nut full ofdecimal fractions, and a rubber-stamp mind. Oh, he was on the job, allright. So was everybody else in sight. I could see that after the firstday. In fact, I coded in my O. K. the second noon and was plannin' toslip back home.

  But when I hinted as much to the Major he nearly threw a cat-fit. Why,he'd arranged a demonstration at 10 A.M. Thursday, for my specialbenefit. And there were the tests--horse-power, gun-ranges, resistance,and I don't know what all; technical junk that I savvied about as muchas if he'd been tryin' to show me how to play the Chinese alphabet on apiccolo.

  Course, I couldn't tell him that, nor I didn't want to break his heartby refusin'. So I agrees to stick around a while longer. But say, Inever enjoyed such a poor time doin' it. For there was just one spot onthe map where I was anxious to be for the next few days. That was athome. It was one of the times when I ought to be there too, for----Well, I'll get to that later.

  Besides, this fact'ry joint where they were buildin' the tanks wasn'tany allurin' spot. I can't advertise just where it was, either; thegovernment wouldn't like it. But if there's any part of Connecticutthat's less interestin' to loaf around in, I never got stranded there.You run a spur track out into the bare hills for fifteen miles fromnowhere, slap up a row of cement barracks, and a few acres of machineshops, string a ten-foot barbed-wire fence around the plant, drape thewhole outfit in soft-coal smoke, and you ain't got any Garden of Edenwinter resort. Specially when it's full of low-brow mechanics who speakin seven different lingos and subsist mainly on cut plug and garlic.

  After I'd checked up all the dope I'd come for, and durin' the timeswhen the Major was out plannin' more inspection stunts for me, I wasleft to drill around by myself. Hours and hours. And all there was toread in the Major's office was engineerin' magazines and the hist'ry ofEssex County, Mass. Havin' been fed up on mechanics, I tackled thehist'ry. One chapter had a corkin' good Indian scalpin' story in it,about a Mrs. Hannah Dustin; and say, as a short-order hair remover shewas a lady champ, all right. But the rest of the book wasn't sothrillin'.

  So I tried chattin' with the Major's secretary, a Lieutenant Barnes. TheMajor must have picked him out on account of that serious face of his.First off, I had an idea Barnes was sad just because he was detailed atthis soggy place instead of bein' sent to France. I asks him sort ofsympathizin' how long he's been here. He says three months.

  "In this hole?" says I. "How do you keep from goin' bug-house?"

  "I don't mind it," says he. "I find the work quite interesting."

  "But evenin's?" I suggests.

  "I write to my wife," says he.

  I wanted to ask him what about, but I choked it back. "Oh, yes," says I."Of course. Any youngsters at home!"

  "No," says he prompt. "Life is complicated enough without children."

  "Oh, I don't know," says I. "They'd sort of help, I should think."

  He shakes his head and glares gloomy out of the window. "I cannot agreewith you," says he. "Perhaps you have never seriously considered justwhat it means to be a parent."

  "Maybe not," says I, "but----"

  "Few seem to do so," he breaks in. "Just think: one begins by puttingtwo lives in jeopardy."

  "Let's pass over that," I says hasty.

  He sighs. "If we only could," says he. "And then---- Well, there youare--saddled with the task of caring for another human being, of keepinghim in good health, of molding his character, of planning and directinghis whole career, from boyhood on."

  "Some are girls, though," I suggests.

  He shudders. "So much the worse," says he. "Girl babies are suchdelicate creatures; all babies are, in fact. Do you know the averagerate of infant mortality in this country? Just think of the hundreds ofthousands who do not survive the teething period. Imagine the anxieties,the sleepless nights, the sad little tragedies which come to so manyhomes. Then the epidemic diseases--measles, scarlet fever, meningitis.Let them survive all those, and what has the parent to face but thebattle with other plagues, mental and moral? Think of the number ofweak-minded children there are in the world; of perverts, criminallyinclined. It is staggering. But if you escape all that, if your childrenare well and normal, as some are, then you must consider this: Supposeanything should happen to either or both of the parents? What of thelittle boy or girl? You have seen orphan asylums, I suppose. Have youever stopped to----"

  And then, just as he had me feelin' like I ought to be led out and shotat sunrise, the old Major comes bustlin' in fussy. I could have fallenon his neck.

  "All ready!" says he. "Now I'll show you a fighting machine, young man,that is the last word in mechanical genius."

  "You can show me anything, Major," says I, "so long as it ain't a morgueor a State's prison."

  And he sure had some boiler-plate bus out there champin' at the bit. Itlooked just as frisky as the Flatiron Buildin', squattin' in the middleof the field, this young Fort Slocum with the caterpillar wheels sunk inthe mud.

  "Stuck, ain't she?" I asked the Major.

  "We shall see," says he, noddin' to one of his staff, who proceeds to doa semaphore act with his arms.

  An answerin' snort comes from inside the thing, a purry sort of rumblethat grows bigger and bigger, and next I knew, it starts wallowin' rightat us. It keeps comin' and comin', gettin' up speed all the while, andif there hadn't been a four-foot stone wall between us I'd been lookin'for a tall tree. I thought it would turn when it came to the wall. Butit don't. It gives a lurch, like a cow playin' leap-frog, and over shecomes, still pointed our way.

  "Hey, Major!" I calls out above the roar. "Can they see where they'regoin' in there? Hadn't we better give 'em room?"

  "Don't move, please," says he.

  "Just as you say," says I; "only I ain't strong for bein' rolled intopie-crust."

  "There's no danger," says he. "I merely wish you to see how---- There!Look!"

  And say, within twenty feet of us the blamed thing rears up on itshaunches, its ugly nose high as a house above us, and, while I'm stillholdin' my breath, it pivots on its tail and lumbers back, leavin' apath that looks like it had been paved with Belgian blocks.

  Course, that's only part of the performance. We watched it wallow intodeep ditches and out, splash through a brook, and mow down trees more'na foot thick. And all the time the crew were pokin' out wicked-lookin'guns, big and little, that swung round and hunted us out like so manymurderous eyes.

  "Cute little beast, ain't it?" says I. "You got it trained so it'llalmost do a waltz. If I was to pick my position, though, I think I'drather be on the inside lookin' out."

  "Very well," says the Major. "You shall have a ride in it."

  "Excuse me," says I. "I was only foolin'. Honest, Major, I ain'tyearnin'."

  "Telegram for you," breaks in Barnes, the secretary.

  "Oh!" says I, a bit gaspy, as I rips open the envelop.

  It's the one I'd been espectin'. All it says is: "Come at once. VEE."But I knew what that meant.

  "Sorry, Major," says I, "but I'll have to pass up the rest of the show.I--I'm called back."

  "Ah! To headquarters?" says he.

  "No," says I. "Home."

  He shakes his head and frowns. "That is a word which no officer issupposed to have in his vocabulary," says he.
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  "It's in mine, all right," says I. "But then, I'm not much of an armyofficer, anyway. I'm mostly a camouflaged private sec. Besides, thisain't any ordinary call. It's a domestic S. O. S. that I've been sort oflookin' for."

  "I understand," says he. "The--the first?"

  I nods. Then I asks: "What's the quickest way across to Long Island?"

  "There isn't any quick way," says he, "unless you have wings. You can'teven catch the branch line local that connects with the New Yorkexpress now. There'll be one down at 8:36 to-morrow morning, though."

  "Wha-a-at!" says I, gawpin' at him. "How about gettin' a machine andshootin' down to the junction?"

  "My car is the only one here," says he, "and that is out of commissionto-day--valves being ground."

  "But look," says I; "you got three or four of those motor-cycles with abath-tub tacked on the side. Couldn't you let one of your sergeants----"

  "Strictly against orders," says he, "except for military purposes."

  "Ah, stretch it, Major," I goes on. "Have a heart. Just think! I want toget there to-night. Got to!"

  "Impossible," says he.

  "But listen----" I keeps on.

  Well, it's no use rehearsin' the swell arguments I put up. I said he hada rubber-stamp mind, didn't I? And I made about as much headway talkin'to him as I would if I'd been assaultin' that tank with a tack-hammer.He couldn't see any difference between havin' charge of a string ofmachine shops in Connecticut and commandin' a regiment in the front-linetrenches. Besides, he didn't approve of junior officers bein' married.Not durin' war-time, anyway.

  And the worst of it was, I couldn't tell him just the particular kind ofossified old pinhead I thought he was. All I could do was grind myteeth, say "Yes, sir," and salute respectful.

  Also there was that undertaker-faced secretary standin' by with his earout. The prospect of sittin' around watchin' him for the rest of the daywasn't fascinatin'. No; I'd had about all of Barnes I could stand. A fewmore of his cheerin' observations, and I'd want to jam his head into histypewriter and then tread on the keys. Nor I wasn't goin' to be fed onany more cog-wheel statistics by the Major, either.

  All I could keep on my mind then was this one thing: How could I gethome? Looked like I was up against it, too. The nearest town was twelvemiles off, and the main-line junction was some thirty-odd miles beyondthat. Too far for an afternoon hike. But I couldn't just sit around andwait, or pace up and down inside the barbed-wire fence like an enemyalien that had been pastured out. So I wanders through the gate and downa road. I didn't know where it led, or care. Maybe I had a vague idea acar would come along. But none did.

  I must have been trampin' near an hour, with my chin down and my fistsjammed into my overcoat pockets, when I catches a glimpse, out of thetail of my eye, of something yellow dodgin' behind a clump of cedars atone side of the road. First off I thought it might be a cow, as therewas a farm-house a little ways ahead. Then it struck me no cow wouldmove as quick as that, or have such a bright yellow hide. So I turns andmakes straight for the cedars.

  It was a thick, bushy clump. I climbed the stone wall and walked all theway round. Nothin' in sight. Seemed as if I could see branches movin' inthere, though, and hear a sound like heavy breathin'. Course, it mightbe a deer, or a fox. Then I remembered I had half a bag of peanutssomewhere about me. Maybe I could toll the thing out with 'em. I wasjust fishin' in my pockets when from the middle of the cedars comes thisdisgusted protest.

  "Oh, I say, old man," says a voice. "No shooting, please."

  And with that out steps a clean-cut, cheerful-faced young gent in aleather coat, goggled helmet, and spiral puttees. No wonder I stoodstarin'. Not that I hadn't seen plenty like him before, but I didn'tknow the woods was so full of 'em.

  "You were out looking for me, I suppose?" he goes on.

  "Depends on who you are," says I.

  "Oh, we might as well come down to cases," says he. "I'm the enemy."

  "You don't look it," says I, grinnin'.

  He shrugs his shoulders.

  "Fact, old man," says he. "I'm the one you were sent to watchfor--Lieutenant Donald Allen, 26th Flying Corps Division, Squadron B."

  "Pleased to meet you," says I.

  "No doubt," says he. "Have a cigarette?" We lights up from the samematch. "But say," he adds, "it was just a piece of tough luck, yourcatching me in this fix."

  "Oh, I ain't so sure," says I.

  "Of course," he says, "it won't go with the C. O. But really, now, whatare you going to do when your observer insists that he's dying? Icouldn't tell. Perhaps he was. Right in the middle of a perfect flight,too, the chump! Motor working sweet, air as smooth as silk, and no crosscurrents to speak of. But, with him howling about this awful pain inhis tummy, what else could I do? Had to come down and---- Well, here weare. I'm behind the lines, I suppose, and you'll report my surrender."

  "Then what?" I asks.

  "Oh," says Allen, "as soon as I persuade this trolley-car aviator,Martin, that he isn't dead, I shall load him into the old bus and carthim back to Mineola."

  "Wha-a-t!" says I. "You--you're goin' back to Mineola--to-night?"

  "If Martin can forget his tummy," says he. "How I'll be guyed! Go to thefoot of the eligible list too, and probably miss out on being sent overwith my division. Oh, well!"

  I was beginning to dope out the mystery. More'n that, I had my fingerson the tail feathers of a hunch.

  "Why not leave Martin here?" I suggests. "Couldn't you show up in time?"

  "It wouldn't count," says the Lieutenant. "You must have an observer allthe way."

  "How about me subbin' in?" says I.

  "You?" says he. "Why, you're on the other side."

  "That's where you're mixed," says I. "I'm on the wrong side of LongIsland Sound, that's all."

  "Why," says he, "weren't you sent out to----"

  "No," I breaks in; "I'm no spotter. I'm on special detail from theOrdnance Department. And a mighty punk detail at that, if you ask me.The party who's sleuthin' for you, I expect, is the one I saw back atthe plant, moonin' around with a pair of field glasses strapped to him.You ain't captured yet; not by me, anyway."

  "Honest?" says he. "Why, then--then----"

  "Uh-huh!" says I. "And if you can make it back to Mineola with aperfectly good passenger in the extra seat you'll qualify for scout workand most likely be over pluggin' Huns within a month or so. That won'ttickle you a bit more'n it will me to get to Long Island to-night,for----"

  Well, then I tells him about Vee, and everything.

  "By George!" says he. "You're all right, Lieutenant--er----"

  "Ah, between friends, Donald," says I, "it's Torchy."

  At which we links arms chummy and goes marchin' close order down to thefarm-house to see how this Martin party was gettin' on. We finds himrolled up in quilts on an old sofa that the folks had shoved up in frontof the stove--a slim, nervous-lookin' young gink with sandy hair and apeaked nose.

  "Well, how about you?" asks Allen.

  Martin he only moans and reaches for a warm flat-iron that he'd beenholdin' against his stomach.

  "Still dying, eh?" says Allen. "Why didn't you report sick this morning,instead of letting them send you up with me?"

  "I--I was all right then," whines Martin. "It--it must have been thealtitude got me. I--I'd never been that high before, you know."

  "Bah!" says the Lieutenant. "Not over thirty-five hundred at any time.How do you expect me to take you back--on the hundred-foot level? You'llmake a fine observer, you will!"

  "I've had enough observing," says Martin. "I--I'm going to gettransferred to the mechanical department."

  "Oh, are you?" says Allen. "Then you'll be just as satisfied to make thetrip back by rail."

  Martin nods.

  "And you won't be needing your helmet and things, eh?" goes on theLieutenant. "I'll take those along, then," and he winks at me.

  All of a sudden, though, the sparkles fade out of his eyes. "Jinxedagain!" says he. "There'd be no
blessed map to hand in."

  "Eh?" says I. "Map of what!"

  He explains jerky. This scoutin' stunt of his was to locate the tankworks and get close enough for an observer to draw a plan of it--all ofwhich he'd done, only by then Martin had got past the drawin' stage.

  "So it's no use going back to-night."

  "Ain't it?" says I. "Say, if a map of that smoky hole is all you need, Iguess I can produce that easy enough."

  "Can you?" he asks.

  "Why not?" says I. "Ain't I been cooped up there for nearly a week? Ican put in a bird's-eye view of the Major in command; one of hissecretary, too, if you like. Gimme some paper."

  And inside of five minutes I'd sketched out a diagram of the buildin'sand the whole outfit. Then we poked Martin up long enough for him tosign it.

  "Fine work!" says Donald. "That earns you a hop, all right. Now buckleyourself into that cloud costume and I'll show you how a 110-horse-powercrow would go from here to the middle of Long Island if he was in ahurry."

  "You can't make it any too speedy for me," says I, slippin' into thesheepskin jacket.

  "Ever been up before?" he asks.

  "Only once--in a hydro," says I; "but I ain't missed any chances."

  "That's the spirit!" says he. "Come along. The old bus is anchored downthe field a ways."

  I couldn't hardly believe I was actually goin' to pull it off until he'dgot the motor started and we went skimmin' along the ground. But as soonas we shook off the State of Connecticut and began climbin' up over astrip of woods, I settles back in the little cockpit, buttons thewind-shield over my mouth, and sighs contented.

  Allen and I didn't exchange much chat. You don't with an engine of thatsize roarin' a few feet in front of you and your ears buttoned down bythree or four layers of wool and leather. Once he points out ahead andtries to shout something, I don't know what. But I nods and wavesencouragin'. Later he points down and grins. I grins back.

  Next thing I knew, he's shut off the motor, and I gets a glimpse of thewhole of Long Island behavin' odd. Seems as if it's swellin' andwidenin' out, like one of these freaky toy balloons you blow up. Itdidn't seem as if we was divin' down--more like the map was rushin' upto meet us. Pretty soon I could make out a big open space with a lot ofsquatty buildin's at one end, and in a couple of minutes more themachine was rollin' along on its wheels and we taxied graceful uptowards the hangars.

  It was just gettin' dusk as we piles out, and the first few yards Iwalked I felt like I was dressed in a divin' suit with a pair of leadboots on my feet. I saw Allen salute an officer, hand over the map, andheard him say something about Observer Martin wantin' to report sick.Then he steers me off toward the barracks, circles past' em, and leadsme through a back gate.

  "I think we've put it over, old man," says he, givin' me the cordialgrip. "I can't tell you what a good turn you've done me."

  "It's fifty-fifty," says I. "Where do I hit a station?"

  "You take this trolley that's coming," says he. "That junk you have onyou can send back to-morrow, in my care. And I--I trust you'll findthings all right at home."

  "Thanks," says I. "Hope you'll have the same luck yourself some day."

  "Oh, perhaps," says he, shakin' his head doubtful. "If I ever get back.But not until I'm past thirty, anyway."

  "Why so late?" asks I.

  "What would get my goat," says he, "would be the risk of breakin' intothe grandfather class before I got ready."

  "Gee!" I gasps. "I hadn't thought of that."

  So, with this new idea, and the cheerin' views Barnes had pumped intome, I has plenty to chew over durin' the next hour or so that I'mspeedin' towards home. I expect that accounts some for the long face Imust have been wearin' when I finally dashes through the front gate ofthe Lilacs and am let into the house by Leon Battou, the little oldFrenchman who cooks and buttles for us.

  "Ah, _mon Dieu!_" says Leon, throwin' up his hands and starin' at mebug-eyed. "Monsieur!"

  "Go on," says I. "Tell me the worst. What is it?"

  "But no, M'sieur," says he. "It is only that M'sieur appears in sostrange attire."

  "Oh! These?" says I. "Never mind my costume, Leon. What about Vee?"

  "Ah!" says he, his eyes beamin' once more and his hands washin' eachother. "Madame is excellent. She herself will tell you. Come!"

  Upstairs I went, two steps at a time.

  "S-s-sh!" says the nurse, meetin' me at the door.

  But I brushes past her, and the next minute I'm over by the bed and Veeis smilin' up at me. It's only the ghost of a smile, but it means a lotto me. She slips one of her hands into mine.

  "Torchy," she whispers, "did you drop down out of--of the air?"

  "That was about it," says I. "I got here, though. Are you all right,girlie?"

  She nods and gives me another of them sketchy, happy smiles.

  "And how about the--the----" I starts to ask.

  She glances towards the corner where the nurse is bendin' over a pinkand white basket. "He's splendid," she whispers.

  "He?" says I. "Then--then it's a boy?"

  She gives my hand a little squeeze.

  And ten minutes later, when I'm shooed out, I'm feelin' so chesty andhappy that I'm tingly all over.

  Down in the livin'-room Leon is waitin' for me, wearin' a broad grin. Hegreets me with his hand out. And then, somehow, because he's sodifferent, I expect, I remembers Barnes. I was wonderin' if Leon wasjust puttin' on.

  "Well," says I, "how about it?"

  "Ah, Monsieur!" says he, givin' me the hearty grip. "I make to you mybest congratulations."

  "Then you don't feel," says I, "that bein' a parent is kind of a sad andsolemn business?"

  "Sad!" says he. "_Non, non!_ It is the grand joy of life. It is when youhave the best right to be proud and glad, for to you has come _la bonnechance_. Yes, _la bonne chance!_"

  And say, there's no mistakin' that Leon means every word of it, Frenchand all.

  "Thanks, Leon," says I. "You ought to know. You've been through ityourself. I'll bet you wouldn't even feel bad at being a grandfather.No? Well, I guess I'll follow through on that line. Maybe I don'tdeserve so much luck, but I'm takin' it just as though I did. And say,Leon, let's us go out in the back yard and give three cheers for the sonand heir of the house of Torchy."