As the motor boys, with their old and new friends, were gathering up their luggage, preparatory to getting off the train when it should stop in Yorktown, a lad slipped up to Ned.
“You want to look out for that fellow,” he said in a low voice.
“What fellow?”
“That Pug Kennedy. The one you sat on.”
“Why?”
“Oh, he’s a scrapper and always looking for a fight. He comes from the same town I do, and he’s licked every boy in it, some bigger than he is, too.”
“Thanks for telling me,” said Ned. “I’m not afraid of him. But, just the same, it’s as well to be on the watch. He seems like a bully.”
“He is. He doesn’t mind fighting a fellow smaller than himself. I don’t like him, but I’ve got to hand it to him—he is some scrapper! I hope the army takes some of the mean wrinkles out of him.”
“The army is just the place to get it done,” observed Ned. “Thanks for telling me. See you again some time.”
He looked over to note what Kennedy was doing, but the latter had left the car. Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with their fellow recruits, were formed into a squad, and, amid the friendly looks of a crowd that gathered at the station, they marched to the barracks, which were not far away.