By the time the supper call sounded that evening Ignace had reached a stage of loneliness that caused him to sigh gustily as he stood in line at the counter with his mess kit to receive his portion of food.
His china-blue eyes roving mournfully over the long room in search of companionship while eating, they came to rest on the man Schnitzel. The latter looked equally lonely, as he arranged his meal at an unoccupied table at the far end of the room. Owing to the fact that it was a half-holiday, the mess hall was minus at least a fourth of its usual throng. Obeying a sudden impulse Ignace made his way to where Schnitzel sat, and asked half-hesitatingly, “You care I sit here by you?”
“Help yourself,” was the laconic response. Nevertheless the German-American’s eyes showed a trace of inquiring surprise at this sudden invasion.
“Thank.” Ignace carefully set his meat can and cup on the table, and solemnly seated himself beside the other.
“Too much quiet, so is because the many get the pass,” ventured the Pole. “I no like ver’ well.”
“It’s all the same to me.” There was a note of bitterness in the replying voice. “I haven’t any kick coming. I suppose you miss your bunkies,” he added, making an indifferent effort at civility. “They’re a lively bunch of Sammies.”
Ignace stopped eating and stared fixedly at his companion. The latter’s dark, rugged features wore an expression of melancholy that woke in him a peculiar feeling of friendliness. “Y-e-a,” he nodded. “I miss. Them ver’ good my frens, all. I call my Brothar. You speak the American good. You have go by American school?”
Having never before exchanged a word with Schnitzel, Ignace had fully expected to hear the man use broken English.
Schnitzel’s fork left his hand and clattered angrily on the bare table. “Why shouldn’t I speak English well?” he burst forth, scowling savagely. “I was born in this country. My parents came from Germany, but my father’s an American citizen. He hates the Kaiser like poison. I’m an American, not a Fritzie, as a lot of fellows here seem to think. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be in this camp training to go over. I enlisted because I wanted to fight for my country. Some people act as if they didn’t believe it, though. There’s been a lot of lies started about me right in our barrack. I know who to thank for it, too. I’ve stood it without saying a word. But if it goes on——” He stopped, one strong brown hand clenching. “I was glad you jumped that hound the other day,” he continued fiercely. “Wish you’d hammered him good!”
“So-o!” Ignace was not too slow of comprehension to put two and two together. Here it seemed was a man with whom he had something in common. “You see me do him?” he asked.