“Something's up!” decided Jack. “Maybe they've got word from poor
Harry.”
“I'm beginning to give him up,” said Tom. “If they were going to
let us have any news of him they'd have done it long ago—the beasts!”
and he fairly snarled out the words.
“Still I'm not giving up,” returned Jack. “I can't explain why, but I have a feeling that, some day, we'll see Harry Leroy again.”
Tom shook his head.
“I wish I could be as hopeful as you,” he said. “Maybe we'll see him again—or his grave. But I want to say, right now, that if ever I have a chance at the Hun who shot him down, that Hun Will get no mercy from me!”
“Same here!” echoed Jack. “But here comes the orderly.”
The man entered and handed Jack a slip of paper. It was from the commander of their squadron, and said, in effect, that though Tom and Jack were no longer under his orders, having been duly transferred to another sector, yet he would be obliged if they would call on him, at his quarters.
“Maybe he has news!” exclaimed Jack, eagerly.
Again Tom shook his head.
“He'd have said so if that was the case,” he remarked as he and his chum prepared to report at headquarters, telling the messenger they would soon follow him.
“Ah, young gentlemen, I am glad to see, you!” exclaimed the commander, and it was as friends that he greeted Tom and Jack and not as military subordinates. “Do you want to do me one last favor?”