"You don't seem to be stuck on my pet," he grinned. "I'll admit she isn't much on beauty, but when she comes to scrapping she's a holy terror."
"She looks it," agreed Frank. "I'd hate to have her bump up against me when she was in a bad temper."
"That's the way the Huns feel," laughed their new acquaintance. "They haven't any use for tanks. You ought to see the way we got 'em in the battle of the Somme."
"Were you there?" asked Tom.
"Very much there," was the answer. "This old rascal of mine was right in the thick of it."
"You English have all the luck!" exclaimed Bart enviously.
"English nothing," replied the operator. "I'm an American just as you are. My name is Stone, Will Stone, and I was born in Detroit."
"Bully!" exclaimed Frank, and there was a general handshake and introductions all around.
"But how did you get over here before the rest of us?" queried Bart.
"Well," laughed Will, "you know Windsor in Canada is just across the river from Detroit and I slipped across and enlisted with the Canadian troops. I knew a good deal about automobiles—everybody in Detroit does, because there are so many plants there—and when these tanks were ready for use and they called for volunteers I was Johnny-on-the-spot."