“What happened?”
“It snapped, sir.”
“Of course. It’s the same with fliers. It’s the fellow with one string, one thought, who snaps first. Relax, Jack my boy. Relax with your fiddle and you’ll ride through this war right into a concert hall.”
“Sounds a bit strange. But I’ll try it, sir,” Jack agreed.
“Good night and good hunting to you tomorrow.” The Commander disappeared.
Before turning in, Jack took a closer look at his new treasure, his precious violin. “It’s a honey,” he told Stew. “Bet it cost a thousand dollars.”
“Why not,” said Stew. “What’s a thousand dollars to a man like Ted’s dad?”
“That’s just it,” Jack agreed. “Seems sort of wonderful, doesn’t it, that you and I who’ve never had a lot of anything, and Kentucky and Red, who’ve had even less, should be messin’ round with fellows like Ted and two or three other rich guys on the old Black Bee?”
“Well, we’re all in the same boat, aren’t we?” Stew drawled.
“Yes, and the same-sized Jap bullet will down one of them just as quick as it will one of us. For all that,” Jack paused, “it looks as if ours should be a better world to live in after the war is over, all of us getting along together the way we do.”