“Well, I’ll tell you one thing right now,” declared ‘Crazy’ Jack, “I ain’t goin’ to sleep in a pair of blankets that forty smelly bohunks has wrapped themselves in. What kind of a joint you brought us to, Jack?”
“What I want to tell you fellers,” said Gillis, ignoring ‘Crazy’ Jack’s remarks, “is this: I want you to stay all summer. None of this running to town to get your teeth fixed, or a new suit, see the ball game, or to meet your sister who’s comin’ out from the East, and all that old bunk. We got more orders——”
“Can that chatter,” interrupted ‘Fighting’ Jack with a wide grin. “We’re all goin’ to town on Dominion Day, ain’t we, boys?”
“You bet!” they roared as one.
Gillis shrugged his shoulders resignedly. “Thought you fellers was gettin’ old enough to have a little sense,” he said.
“Too much kick in us yet, Jack,” demurred Blackie.
“Where is this door-mee-tory, Jack?” asked Hoop-la.
Gillis pointed to the long building, and the boisterous crowd moved noisily up the hill. The men dropped their packs to the ground outside the door, and, shouldering each other, peered in. The long rows of white beds stood immaculate against the walls, and two white-coated flunkeys were sweeping the glossy varnished floor.
“This ain’t the right place,” growled Hoop-la, “this is the hospital. They must expect to kill about a hundred men every day. Hi! Jack! Come here. Where’s the bunk-room?” he asked as Gillis approached.
“That’s it.”