“I hope we get a shot at him all right,” murmured Jerry, as they went down to their automobile. “What do you think about your folks, Ned? Will they let you go?”
“Oh, I guess so. I heard dad saying the other night he wished he was young enough to enlist, so he ought to be glad to have me take his place.”
“I fear my mother will make a fuss at first,” said Jerry, “but she’ll give in finally, I think. The one trouble will be about school. She has her heart set on having me graduate from Boxwood Hall.”
“Oh, well, you can come back and finish the course,” said Ned. “How does it strike you, Chunky? You won’t be sorry to cut the books, will you?”
“No, I guess not,” was the rather slow answer. “Oh, of course I’ll be glad to get out of going back to Boxwood Hall. It’s nice there, and all that, but I’d rather go to a soldier’s camp.”
There was something in the way Bob spoke that made Ned remark to Jerry, a little later:
“I wonder what’s the matter with Chunky? He didn’t seem to enthuse very much.”
“No, he didn’t, that’s a fact,” admitted Jerry. “Maybe he has a little indigestion.”
“I should think he would have, the way he eats. But I don’t believe it’s indigestion this time. Something’s wrong with Bob, and I’d like to know what it is.”