“That is my name.”
“You are wanted at company headquarters.”
Wondering what it could mean, private Bannister laid aside his book and went with the orderly up the company street to the captain’s quarters. Inside the tent a candle was burning on a rude table by which the captain was seated. Standing about, against the inner walls, were a half-dozen men whose faces the boy could not recognize in the semi-darkness.
Bob advanced to within a few paces of the table, saluted, and stood at attention.
“Private Bannister,” said the captain, “I want to know if you recognize this person?”
He nodded, as he spoke, toward a man dressed in civilian costume, standing near the entrance to the tent. Bob turned and peered into the shadows. The man stepped forward.
“Father!”
“Rob!”
And then Bob rushed into his father’s arms.