But when she finished, that forest exploded just as truly as it would have had the Japs staged an air raid.
Nothing would do after that short of an encore. So leaning on her cane, Jan sang: “Old Black Joe.”
Perhaps that song has been rendered in a better manner ten thousand times before, but you’d never convince those soldiers of that. They were from America. Old Black Joe was part of America.
“Listen to them!” Isabelle exclaimed. The applause came roaring back to them. “You don’t have to die for them, Jan. All you’ve got to do is sing for them.”
“I’ll sing for them!
“I’ll sing for them forever!” Jan sprang up.
This time she sang,—“I Got Plenty of Nothin’”, and as she sang she turned her pockets wrong side out, one by one.
In the middle of the song with all her empty pockets hanging out, she stopped suddenly.
“Say!” she exclaimed. “Has any of you all got a pipe?”
“Sure! Sure! Oh, sure!” came in a roar.