Gallegher stopped his chopping, and looked up proudly. “Did he say that?”
“Yeah. I heard him talking to our noble councilor about us. He said we were both hard cases, and that Wally would have to watch us.”
“Well, if that’s the way they do in this camp, I’m sure goin’ to get away with everything I can. How about it—are you with me, Thorne?”
“Sure.”
They split wood for a while in silence. Blackie’s back began to ache from stooping over so much. He dropped his ax and stretched.
“Gosh, I’m getting sick of this job. When Jim lets us go, I’m going to head for my bunk and stay there the rest of the day.”
“Say, what did you come to camp for—to be a bunk-stretcher?” asked Gallegher. “They’re goin’ to have tests for the honor emblem this mornin’—ain’t you goin’ to try for one?”
“What’s the honor emblem? What good is it?”
“Aw, you have to pass a lot of tests, and then they give you a badge to sew on your jersey. You’ve seen them—lots of the guys have won them.”
“You mean the things with a swastika and a big L on them? What do you get for it?”