“My uncle!” she cried. “Why, how perfectly splendid!” offering Barry her hand. “Why, we're really introduced. Then you're the man that Uncle Howard—” She stopped abruptly, a flush on her cheek. Then she turned to the N. C. O. “Yes, sergeant, that will do,” as the man brought half a dozen large biscuit cans and as many large bottles of prepared coffee.
As Barry's eyes fell upon the biscuit cans an idea came to him.
“Will these cans hold water?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant.
“Then, we're fixed,” cried Barry, in high delight. “This is perfectly fine.”
“What do you mean?” asked the girl.
“We'll dump the biscuits, and boil the coffee in the cans. I haven't camped on the Athabasca for nothing. Now we're all right and I suppose we must go.”
The V. A. D. hesitated a moment, then she took the sergeant to one side, and entered into earnest and persuasive talk with him.
“It's against regulations, miss,” Barry heard him say, “and besides, you know, we're expecting a hospital train any minute, and every car will be needed.”
“Then I'll take my own car,” she said. “It's all ready and has the chains on, sergeant, I think.”