"I've had enough observing," says Martin. "I—I'm going to get transferred to the mechanical department."
"Oh, are you?" says Allen. "Then you'll be just as satisfied to make the trip back by rail."
"And you won't be needing your helmet and things, eh?" goes on the Lieutenant. "I'll take those along, then," and he winks at me.
All of a sudden, though, the sparkles fade out of his eyes. "Jinxed again!" says he. "There'd be no blessed map to hand in."
"Eh?" says I. "Map of what!"
He explains jerky. This scoutin' stunt of his was to locate the tank works and get close enough for an observer to draw a plan of it—all of which he'd done, only by then Martin had got past the drawin' stage.
"So it's no use going back to-night."
"Ain't it?" says I. "Say, if a map of that smoky hole is all you need, I guess I can produce that easy enough."
"Can you?" he asks.