“Thanks a lot,” Bob grinned. If his family was not suffering the agony of suspense, the rest did not matter, he thought.
“Come along,” Captain Seaman invited.
It was a difficult task to get through the crowd which pressed about eagerly, and hundreds of hands, men’s, women’s and children’s, touched those of the American boys who had come back. In the meantime they were safe, but they must be hungry and worn, although they did not look so bad—certainly not nearly so bad as if some airman had found them beneath the remains of a wrecked or burned machine. Thank God for that! Thank Him especially for the sake of their mother and father—after all, the world was pretty fine. Someone began to sing a medley of songs loved by Americans, and the Sky Buddies could hardly keep back the tears. It was wonderful having people who were so jolly to a fellow.
“Here are my quarters,” Seaman smiled cordially. “You know them. Make yourselves at home—”
“Thanks a lot,” Jim said chokily.
“Er, ah, the doctor is just across the way. By George, he’s coming now. Decent sort of old sawbones. Let him give you the once over, it will perk him up no end, you know—”
“We’re not hurt at all,” Jim assured his host.
“To be sure, I didn’t think you were, but you may as well be a good sport and give the old fellow something to do. Er, if you could dig a scratch, no matter how little, just enough to make him think you may be in danger of blood poisoning. We’re such a bloody healthy bunch—I’ll send him in, do what you can for him.”
“All right,” the boys agreed.