“I tell you,” said Dick, “our chum has still got a twisted brain. Tolo’s coffee is continuing to have its effect.”
Bob laughed, suddenly turned the old hat over, tore out the lining, and pulled forth a crumpled envelope, closed with a red seal.
Glennie gave a yell. “My dispatches!” And, with that, he staggered across the small room, grabbed the envelope, and waved it above his head. “My dispatches!” he repeated, his voice husky.
“I thought so,” said Bob. “They have been in that old slouch hat, in the locker, ever since we made that dive to get away from the Japs.”
“And I pud dem dere,” remarked Carl pompously. “How mooch is id vort’?”
CHAPTER XLVII.
AT PARA.
Ensign Glennie was a happy man. In that blissful moment, when he was hugging his dispatches, he wanted to be friends with everybody, and would have shaken hands as rapturously with Dick and Carl as he did with Bob.
“Before you do too much rejoicing, Glennie,” said Bob, “you’d better first examine the envelope, and see if it has been tampered with.”
An examination showed the seal to be intact.