“Is that a cotton sock?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, sir,” Jerry answered.
“I told you fellows distinctly to wear wool socks, didn’t I?”
Jerry’s face reddened. “Yes, but it was so darned hot that I thought—”
“Jerry,” Russ said patiently, “I didn’t tell you to wear wool socks just to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to save you a lot of agony. If you keep on wearing those thin socks for a couple of days, we’ll have to carry you back on a stretcher.”
Sandy and Quiz stood nearby curiously. “How’s that, Uncle Russ?” Sandy asked.
“A good pair of heavy wool socks protects your feet; keeps them dry and won’t bunch up in blister-making creases. Any soldier or woodsman, anybody who does a lot of hiking, can tell you. In my old army outfit, wearing cotton socks on a hike was a punishable offense.”
“Hear, hear!” Quiz said with relish. “I vote we assign Jerry to permanent KP duty for fouling things up.”
Sandy grinned. “I second the motion.”
Jerry’s lantern jaw sagged. “Aw, fellers, have a heart! General Steele, I appeal to you.”