“Yes, you said something—for once,” conceded Ned.
Accordingly, led by Bob, who might perhaps qualify as an expert in the matter of eating, the three lads asked their way about the troopship until they found where their particular company would be fed, and at about what time.
“About an hour more!” sighed Bob, as he looked at his wrist watch.
“Listen to him!” cried Ned. “And it’s only a little while ago that la belle Marie was feeding him!”
“It’s the sea air!” confessed Bob. “It always did make me hungry!”
There was not a great deal to do on board the Sherman—at least during the first day of the homeward-bound voyage. The soldiers stood about on deck, or sought such sheltered places as they could find, and smoked, played cards, talked or read. Later on some entertainments might be gotten up, it was said. But the wounded required the attention of the nurses and the doctors, and the well and strong were well able to shift for themselves.
Bob’s wisdom in finding out in advance where they were to assemble at mess call proved to be a commendable bit of forethought. For while some of the soldiers hurried here and there in what approached confusion, the three chums got in line, and with a few other knowing ones were among the first to be fed.
“Chunky, we’ve got to hand it to you!” complimented Jerry, as he cleaned his plate. “You sure are one good little feeder.”
“And I take back all I said,” added Ned. “You may come to my party, Bob, when I have it.”