"I've heard of you. Gee!" he cried, and pushed the young fellow away from him so as to study him the better. "So you three are Larry and Jim and Bill, and, say, what did you do with the trawler?"
"Trawler!" Larry gaped, Jim gaped, Bill looked astonished.
"Aye, trawler! D'you think we're such dunces over here that we don't know what's going on? Just you wait! Look at this—a communiqué which was issued last night—see it?
"'Gallant affair in the North Sea. British prisoners on board a German trawler overpower crew and conduct a fight with another trawler. German torpedo-boat destroyer intervenes, but assistance arrives at the critical moment in the shape of a British destroyer. The escaped prisoners capture the other trawler and steam her in with the help of their prisoners. The two trawlers reach the roads at Dover quite safely. This feat is mainly the work of three men from America—Larry——'"
"Here, hold hard!" cried Larry, pushing his head forward, "you're romancing—eh? Gee! It's truth! Well I——!"
The big Sergeant shouted his laughter and pointed a finger at the diminutive Larry.
"True? I should say it was! So you are the three! Come right along. I've quarters for you, and you can get some food and then sit down and give me the whole yarn. To-morrow you'll go up country and then start in at the business of training."
Three days later the three had reached a spot some fifteen miles from the front line, where they were at once posted to a Franco-American transport unit.
"You'll have to learn the work with horses first of all," they were told, "after that there is the motor traction part of it. Yes, you'll see some of the front. In a day or two you'd be sent with one of the convoys taking ammunition up. It's exciting work sometimes, boys," the Sergeant continued. "When shelling's severe, the chaps that take up food and such like, see things, or rather feel 'em. But you've been under gun-fire—eh! Don't tell me! Ain't I seen the news about the trawler?"