by Gordon Bates
CHAPTER VI
THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE
Hastily tucking his letter into its envelope, Jim noiselessly trailedRoger to the top of the hill. Looking down, they beheld a mostremarkable sight. Back and forth in the hollow, for a distance of abouttwenty feet, marched, or rather pranced, Ignace. His shoulders rigidlyforced back by means of a long stick, thrust under his arms, he wasgiving an exhibition of high stepping that would have filled Bob withjoy. Lifting first one foot, then the other, to a height of at least twofeet, he traversed the hollow with the airy steps of a circus pony.
"Let's beat it before I howl," begged Jimmy, shaking with suppressedmirth.
As stealthily as they had come, the two beat a quick retreat down thehill and out of sight of their industrious Brother, where they couldhave their laugh out.
"I never thought he'd do it," gasped Jimmy.
"We won't let him know we saw him. It would be a shame to kid him whenhe's so dead in earnest. But won't Bob howl? Oh, wait till I tell him!"
"It was certainly rich." Roger's boyish laugh rang out afresh. "It'll dohim good, though. I'll bet he keeps it up every day. He's afraid ofbeing put in the awkward squad. I like his grit. He'll get there. Now ifBob can fix him up on the rest. We'd better be hiking, Jimmy Blazes. Itmust be nearly time for Retreat."
"Four-thirty." Jimmy consulted a gunmetal wrist watch. "I wouldn't wearone of these at home," he added, half apologetically. "They're toogirly-girly. But they're all O. K. out here."
"Wish I had one." Bob eyed the little watch with approval. "I think I'llbuy one when I get my first pay. It would be a great convenience."
Jimmy agreed that it would. He also made mental note that he would writecertain things to his mother at once. Well supplied with pocket money,he decided that he would surprise his bunkie with a present of a wristwatch long before pay-day arrived. Roger would value it doubly as a giftfrom a Brother.
"What if poor old Iggy forgets to come out of the woods in time forRetreat?" Having now descended the slope and almost reached the companystreet on which their barrack was situated, Roger paused to glanceanxiously back toward the woods.
"Think we'd better skate back after him?" Jimmy's gaze followed Roger's.
As they stared toward the woods, a familiar figure came loping down tothe stump fence. Iggy was still decorated with his makeshift shoulderbrace. Scrambling over the fence, the Pole stopped and laboriouslydivesting himself of the stick, tucked it under a projecting stump.Straightening up, he threw back his shoulders and came slowly forward,careful to lift his heavy feet well from the ground, though in anow-modified fashion.
"Did you see him tuck away his shoulder brace?" snickered Jimmy. "Thatmeans to-morrow same time, same place. No awkward squad for Iggy. It'sJimmy's little old bunch for him. Ignace So Pulinski's going to stick byhis brother James, if he has to step clear over the barracks to do it.Let's hustle, so we can tell old Bob before Iggy comes."
Vastly amused by what they had so lately witnessed, the two stroderapidly along toward their barrack, to acquaint Bob with the exploits ofIgnace before that aspirant toward military proficiency should put in anappearance.
"Well, how's the great stunt?" inquired Jimmy. On entering the barrack,he had hurried ahead of Roger, who had stopped to speak to a comrade, upthe short flight of steps to the second floor squad room, where thefour Khaki Boys bunked.
Seated cross-legged on his cot, a quantity of loose sheets of paperscattered broadcast about him, Bob was making a fountain pen fairly flyover a pad, braced against one knee. Raising his head from his writinghe grinned amiably. "Oh, fine, fine," he declared. "Bobby has certainlybeen the busy little rookie. I'm not done yet, by a long shot. Aftermess I'm going to see if I can't borrow the loan of a typewritingmachine and type this copy." He waved a careless hand over thewide-strewn sheets of paper.
"But what's that got to do with the great stunt? Or maybe this _is_ thestunt?" Jimmy guessed, nodding toward the papers.
"Clever lad," commented Bob. "This is _it_. Mustn't touch," he warned,as Jimmy reached out a mischievous hand to gather them in. "Can yourimpetuosity, Jimmy Blazes. Now watch me rake in the results of twohours' genius." Bob whisked the papers together in a jiffy and beganpatting them into an even pile.
"All right, stingy. Just for that I shan't tell you Iggy's latest."Jimmy turned away, smiling to himself. He was not in the least peeved.He merely wanted to arouse Bob's curiosity.
"It'll keep," was the unconcerned answer. "It's almost time for Retreat,anyhow. I'll hear the terrible tale of illustrious Iggy later, allright. Better still, I'll ask Iggy about it."
"You needn't." Jimmy swung round with a jerk. "Don't say a word to him.He doesn't know we know it."
"We? H-m! That's you and Ruddy, I suppose. Then I'll quiz old Roger.Here he comes now with our Polish brother at his heels. What's happenedto Iggy? He looks all braced up. Sort of a strait-jacket effect. Whatmake of starch do you use, Iggy?" he waggishly hailed, as the Polereached him, holding himself painfully erect.
"You see? You think him better?" Ignace asked anxiously. "Yes, but I amthe tired!" Making a lunge for his cot he bundled himself upon it in aheap.
"Complete collapse of the left line," murmured Bob.
Now grown used to the sight of their comrades, the other occupants ofthe barrack had paid small attention to the trio who had just arrived.Bixton, however, the talkative rookie whom the four "Brothers" sodisliked had been aware of the Pole's sudden change of carriage. Amember of the same squad, he had heard the drill sergeant's reprimand ofIgnace that afternoon and accordingly took his cue from it.
"Hey, Poley, what's the matter?" he called in a purposely loud tone.Ignace had now risen from his cot and reassumed his strait-jacketappearance. "Are you practicing for the awkward squad? You'll get thereif you live till to-morrow."
"You too much speak." A slow red had crept into the Pole's cheeks. Hismild blue eyes held an angry glint as he turned on his tormentor who hadswaggered up to him. "I no like you. You no let me 'lone I give you thestrong poonch." Ignace clenched his right hand menacingly.
"Oh, you will, will you? Better not try it. You'll----"
"Let him alone," ordered Jimmy hotly. "He's minding his own business.Now mind yours."
"Who asked you to butt in?" sneered Bixton. "'Fraid I might give yourPoley pet a trimming?"
The appearance at the head of the stairs of the acting first sergeant ofthe squad-room put an end to the budding altercation. The men who hadbegun to gather about the wranglers prudently left the scene of discord,and promptly busied themselves with their own affairs.
Almost immediately afterward the call for Retreat formation sounded andthe recruits were marshalled out into the company street, where theystood at attention while the daily ceremony of lowering the Flag wasconducted, a regimental band in the distance playing the "Star SpangledBanner." Everywhere in Camp Sterling at this hour all soldiers not ondetail were expected to stand at attention during this impressiveceremony, saluting as the band played the final note.
Our four Khaki Boys found themselves thrilling in response to thesonorous notes of their country's chosen anthem. All watched withreverent eyes the dignified descent of that red, white and blue banner,the sacred emblem of "Liberty and Union; Now and Forever; One andInseparable."