Jimmie tried, weakly, to take it, drew a long breath, and almost at once began to feel better. For the next few minutes the doctor worked rapidly. He bandaged up Jimmie’s chest and legs, and finishing his task this man in an enemy uniform seemed as pleased as did Jimmie.
“And then,” the Skipper continued, “when I saw him after the war was over, he was being helped off a hospital boat at Folkestone, limping on two canes, it is true, but otherwise apparently none the worse for wear except that he had no buttons on his coat, his wings were gone, as were all his badges of rank.
“After I had talked to him for a few minutes I said:
“‘It looks as if the souvenir hunters had been busy with you. Where are all your buttons and your wings?’
“Jimmie replied, with a slow smile:
“‘I didn’t lose them until after the Armistice. So many people in Belgium had been good to me, had shown me so many kindnesses, that I had to do something to reward them. And it was a very pretty girl who got my wings.’”
During the telling of the story of Jimmie Dugan’s adventures, Kiwi had listened with divided interest. He was ever on the watch for Armbruster’s return. That he might now get his chance to learn to fly was of more importance to him than stories of other days.
He did not have long to wait. Very soon the cheery face of Armbruster appeared, and he called out from a distance:
“All right, Kiwi! I’m ready now if you are!”
The Skipper looked up quickly. Kiwi put his hand appealingly on his father’s arm.