“No?” asked Ned.
“I should say not! There’s no telling what sort of disease you may catch.”
“Well, I’m not going to try and catch any,” laughed Frank. “If some disease wants to catch me I’ll do my best to get away, too.”
“And there’s all sorts of bugs and crawling things,” continued the blue-jacket, making a wry face.
“Oh, don’t listen to him!” exclaimed Hank Dell, who, of late, had become quite chummy with Frank and Ned. “He’s a regular calamity-howler, he is!”
“Yes, and you’ll be a howler, too, when some of those South American chiggers get after you and burrow under your skin,” predicted the other as he went below.
The news that the Georgetown had been ordered to South American waters where there was a prospect of some real fighting, soon spread all over the ship. As boat after boat returned from the drill, and was hoisted to the davits, the sailors discussed the wireless message that had been received. Of course the enlisted men did not know any of the particulars, merely being told that the rather aimless cruising about, which had thus far marked the voyage, was at an end, and that orders had come to start South.
Now the Georgetown had a definite object in view, and it was rumored throughout the ship that hereafter drills would be stricter and that drills with the big guns would be more frequent.
“Of course we won’t stop for any target practice, though,” reasoned Ned.
“Hardly,” agreed Frank. “I guess, too, they won’t fire away many of the big, expensive projectiles. We may need them for Uridio.”