The Commandant examined the paper.
"Well?" he said, at length, with an indifference calculated to crush.
"Oh, nothing. Only that Papa Isio is coming. That's the way he announced his visit when I was at Cabayan last spring, and he burned the town down and my punching bag, and made hash of the——"
He stopped with a little gurgle of dismay. Hafner had risen from the ranks by a Teutonic adhesion to regulations, and rumour, supported by his mannerisms, had it that his début in the army had been culinary. The remark about the fate of the inhabitants of Cabayan was harmless; the little gurgle was not.
"And what business is that of yours?" asked the Commandant, with a snort.
"Not much. Thought you'd like to know, so as to get ready——"
"Sir," interrupted the Commandant, pompously, "the American Army is always ready."
"I was speaking of your Scouts, sir," the Maestro corrected, suavely.
He had been maneuvering toward the door during the latter part of the dialogue, and with the last word he waved an airy good-by and hop-skipped-jumped down the stairs.