“I rather fancy Gladys,” murmured Ned.
“Dorothy seems real jolly,” stated Bob.
“Here! None of that, young man, or I’ll write 42 to Helena Schaeffer, and tell her how you’re carrying on!” warned Jerry, shaking a finger at his stout chum.
“Aw, you––” began Bob.
But at that moment there came an interruption. A small, very much excited lad came fairly bounding over the grass toward the figures of the three chums and Professor Snodgrass.
“Oh, here you are!” cried the newcomer. “Found you at last—thought I never would—asked everybody—nearly got stabbed by a sentry—had to jump out of the way of a bullet—whoop—but here I am—Gosh! Say, it’s good to see you again—I told ’em I could find you—awful hot, ain’t it? Lots of things going on—never saw so many soldiers in all my life—here they are, girls! I found ’em!”
Ned, Bob and Jerry gazed in amazement at the small lad. Ned murmured his name—Andy Rush—and then Jerry, looking over the head of the excited little chap, descried three girls approaching.
“Girls! Girls!” murmured the tall lad. “More girls! What does it mean?”