“Oh, you haven’t heard the last from me—not by any means,” threatened Hank. But Frank did not worry.
The next day when Hank reported for early morning inspection his condition, as well as that of Frank, attracted the attention of the officer in charge of the division.
“How did you get that black eye?” he asked of Hank.
“Why, sir,” was the grinning answer, “one of the fifteen-inch rifles recoiled and struck me.”
“Very good!” was the grim and understanding comment. “And you, Arden—how about your scratches?”
“The—er—the goat mascot, sir.”
“I see. A new fact in natural history—a goat with claws.”
Of course, fighting was forbidden, but it went on just the same, and it was winked at to a certain extent when not too flagrant. So the incident was closed, as far as the ship authorities were concerned.
A few days later Ned was able to report again for his duties, and after that Hank was transferred to another division, berthing in another part of the ship.
“Well, I’m glad he’s gone,” Ned remarked. So were many others, for the red-haired recruit was not generally liked.