It looked as though it might snow at any moment. There was "ice in the air," as Greg Holmes expressed it.
So it was a welcome relief to all of the young candidates to find themselves once more inside the hospital building.
They were taken into the same room. During their absence the hospital corps orderly had distributed blankets, one on each chair.
"Each of you will please strip now," announced the same young medical officer, coming briskly into the room. "Strip as quickly as you can. Each man take a blanket and wrap it around himself while waiting."
Some of the young men looked startled, but all obeyed. In this stripping, and in the varied degrees of orderliness with which the different stacks of discarded clothing were piled it was rather easy to pick out the young men who had previously undressed in the dressing quarters of schools or colleges where athletics are a big feature.
"If we had a few tom-tom players we'd be ready with a fine imitation of an Indian war dance," muttered one of the candidates, gazing about him at his blanketed companions. There was a laugh, of course. These highly nervous youngsters were ready to laugh at anything just now.
"Is Mr. Geroldstone ready?" asked the hospital orderly, marching into the room.
"I will be, in five minutes or so," replied Geroldstone, slowly pulling his shirt off over his head.
"Mr. Danvers, then," called the orderly, consulting a slip of paper in his right hand.
Candidate Frank Danvers, a good-looking young man, self-contained, slight of build, not very tall, but very black as to hair, stepped forward.