“Who is he? What’s he fighting you for, Bob?” cried Jerry, while many other soldiers, awakened by the commotion, gathered about the struggling twain.
The only answer from the stout youth was a grunt, and a gasp.
“It’s le cochon!” cried Ned. “That’s who it is! The same fellow who acted so rotten in the restaurant, Jerry! He’s trying to kill Bob! He must be crazy!”
At first, as Jerry admitted afterward, this was his thought also. But a second look at Bob’s midnight assailant told a different story. This man had a shock of red hair, while the other had been almost bald. And there was a great difference in the physique of the two.
[Ned was doing his best to pull the fellow away from Bob] by a rear attack, and to this end Jerry likewise lent his aid. Other soldiers also joined in to separate the two struggling ones, and they worked to such good advantage that the desperate grip on Bob’s throat was broken, his attacker pulled away and his arms held behind him.
[NED WAS DOING HIS BEST TO PULL THE FELLOW AWAY FROM BOB.]
“Why it’s Meldon!” some one shouted. “It’s Meldon of the Twenty-seventh. He was in the hospital!”
And Meldon, if that was the name of the man in white pajamas, looked wonderingly about him, passed his hand over his eyes as if in a daze, and murmured:
“Where am I? What happened?”