"She needs me now, and I know it, and dad knows it," Nick assured him. "I'm going home! You'd better be glad you are not mixed up in this thing," he said, turning to the third boy. "You are safe awhile yet, you old Greece-spot, you!"
"There are some Greeks fighting; a few on the European border of the Dardanelles," said the boy addressed.
"Oh, of course you will get into it sooner or later," said Nick, "but I'm banking on that queen of yours to stall things along as far as she can. She can't put it off forever, though. You will be in it."
"As sure as my name is Zaidos," said the young Greek, "you are quite right! We will have to fight sooner or later."
"Well, don't cross bridges," said Nick. "Sit tight, and I'll go over there and help clean up things."
Light-heartedly they raced up the steep hill leading from the parade ground to the mess hall.
A slim young orderly came out of the Adjutant's office onto the terrace and looked about. Seeing the three boys, he called in a high, clear voice, "Oh, you Nosey!" and as the Greek approached added formally, "Corporal Zaidos is wanted by the Adjutant."
"What's he going to get ragged for now, I wonder," mused Nickell-Wheelerson as he and Morales joined the crowd and went into the mess hall.
Zaidos did not come back. Nick watched the door anxiously. They were room-mates, and Nick was well aware of Nosey's tendencies in the way of breaking minor rules. As soon as he could get out of the mess, he hurried down past the Adjutant's office, and hastily framing an errand, went in. The room was empty.
Nick hurried over to the barracks to their room. Sitting on the side of his narrow bunk, his hands clenched, his face white, was Zaidos.