“She’s feeling for the steel ball,” one of the buck private gunners repeated.
“She’ll have it presently,” said the other. “Like h—l,” he muttered, under his breath.
The eyes of the gun crew were on the girl. It was as if she had learned some Hindu magic there in India. They questioned that she could do the trick, but gave her the benefit of the doubt, nevertheless.
“Something like making a boy climb a rope into the sky,” one of them suggested.
“Uh huh. Probably,” the other agreed. “I saw an old guy do that trick once. And say! Was it spookey!”
“Did the boy come back?”
“Not that I saw, he didn’t.” The two buck privates settled back in their places.
“There now,” the girl sighed. “I’ve got it.”
“She’s got it,” one of the privates repeated. The other was silent. He had seen magic work. A boy had gone up a rope and hadn’t come down.
“Show me how your gun is adjusted,” the girl said to the sergeant. He showed her, carefully—painstakingly as if she were a child. She grinned, but said nothing.