"I shouldn't wonder," said Ginger, grinning as he went out.
When he returned, twenty minutes later, the expression on his face checked the congratulations that rose to his comrades' lips. His features were grimly set, and he went to his place by the fire without uttering a word.
"No luck, Ginger?" said one of the men indiscreetly.
"Shut up!" growled Ginger, lighting his pipe.
Nothing would induce him to explain why he had been sent for, or the reason of his annoyance. He was one of the best-behaved men in the company, and it seemed unlikely that he had got into trouble without the knowledge of the others. Wisely, they did not press him with questions, expecting that he would tell them all in good time.
Ginger's interview with Captain Adams had been a surprising one.
"You know the post regulations, Murgatroyd?" said the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, look at this postcard. Is that your signature?"
"D. Murgatroyd; that's me, sir," said Ginger, after a glance at the pencilled name.