"Why, Horace!" puts in one of the ladies, grabbin' him by the arm.
"Yes, yes, my dear," says the major. "I know. No scene. Certainly not. Only these hotel persons must be put in their place. And if you will excuse me for a moment I'll see what can be done. Come, lieutenant. I want to get a look at those spools myself."
Well, he did. "But—but I understood," says he, "that they were stuck in concrete or something of the kind."
"Yes, sir," says I. "We had to unstick 'em. Pneumatic drills and a steam roller. Very simple."
"Great Scott!" says he. "Why didn't that fool captain think of—— But, see here, I don't want 'em here. Now, if we could only get them to Pier 14——"
"That would be a long way to roll 'em, sir," says I, "but it could be done. Loadin' 'em on a couple of army trucks would be easier, though. There's a Quartermaster's depot at the foot of Fifty-seventh Street, you know."
"So there is," says he. "I'll call them up. Come in, will you, lieutenant and—and join us at tea? You've earned it, I think."
Three minutes more and the major announces that the trucks are on the way.
"Which means, Ellins," he adds, "that you win your twenty-five. Here you are."
"If you don't mind," says Old Hickory, "I'll keep this and pass on my hundred to Torchy here. He might like to entertain his volunteer squad with it."