“That door! Oh! Now he’s gone!”
“Who was there? Why all the excitement?” the colonel asked.
“It was the Black Dwarf.”
“Oh! The Black Dwarf,” he murmured. Truth was, she had only half his attention. He had been enjoying the celebration to the very bottom of his soul. Now as the song lagged, he roared out:
“Come ye back to Mandalay!” And they sang it all over again.
As for Gale, her eyes were still glued to that door. She fully expected to see the Black Dwarf again. But he did not reappear. He was gone, perhaps farther than she could dream.
When the song ended Gale found herself in a quandary. The colonel was having the time of his life. Should she interrupt this to tell him of the Black Dwarf? After all, what did she have to tell about this strange little man? She had seen him once on the edge of the airfield, and twice in the dugout during an air raid. And now he was here. What was there to that? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. The Black Dwarf could wait, for here came the food.
It was a glorious feast, enjoyed by all; chicken with dumplings, baked sweet potatoes, fruit salad, and of all things—ice cream.
“It seems strange,” she said to the colonel.
“What is strange?” His eyes twinkled.