“It ought to be a lesson to all of us to be very careful to keep our masks in perfect order,” said Dave.
“It’s a lesson to me, all right enough,” answered Roger. “My mask is in the best condition now, and you can bet I’m going to see to it that it is kept that way. I’d rather have a good gas mask in this war than a good suit of clothes or new shoes.”
“Letters! Letters! Letters!”
It was a welcome cry from the far end of the camp, and immediately afterward came a rush from all sides, every engineer being more than anxious to get tidings from the loved ones left behind. There was a good-natured scramble as a whole sackful of epistles were distributed, and then the men drifted off in one direction or another to read the precious communications.
Dave was much disappointed. There was a letter from his Uncle Dunston, but none from Jessie. He had heard from the girl two weeks before, but he had hoped that she would send another communication soon. He saw that Roger had a letter from his sister Laura, and knew that between Laura’s letter and that from his uncle he would get a good idea of what was taking place in Crumville. Phil had been made happy by two letters; one, which evidently had been delayed, being from Belle Endicott.
The letter from his Uncle Dunston contained several items which were of considerable interest to our hero. One was to the effect that the Wensell Munition Company, in which Dave’s father was greatly interested, was doing more war work than ever before. And another was that both his father and his uncle had been active in the new Liberty Loan campaign, and had taken a large block of the bonds and had induced Mr. Wadsworth to do likewise.
“I knew they would do it,” said Dave to himself. “They are true blue, every one of them. My! from what Uncle Dunston writes, that Liberty Loan campaign must have been a red-hot one.”
“Of course we are all very proud of the fact that you have become a sergeant,” wrote Dunston Porter. “If you keep on the way you have started some day you may become a lieutenant or a captain, or go even higher. You certainly have our best wishes.
“And that puts me in mind, Dave. You, of course, remember Nat Poole, old Aaron Poole’s son, with whom you had so many differences in the past. Well, that slacker was finally drafted into the army in spite of all old Poole could do to keep him out. They sent him off to Camp Hickory; and now I understand he is on his way to France. I hope the war will knock some of the conceit out of him.”
“Nat Poole coming to France after all!” Dave murmured to himself as he read this portion of the letter. “I don’t see how they expect to make a soldier of him.” He well remembered what a coward Nat Poole had been and how even at Oak Hall he had often tried to shield himself by getting behind his cronies.