Peter saluted and retired. He reached Fredericton that night and the home village of Jim Hammond by noon of the next day. He went straight to the store, where Mr. Hammond greeted him with astonishment. Peter saw no sign of Jim.
"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," said Mr. Hammond.
"I got a chance, so I took it," replied Peter. "How's all the family?"
The storekeeper smiled. "The womenfolk are well," he said.
Peter saw that he had come suddenly to the point where he must exercise all the tact he possessed. He felt keenly embarrassed.
"Did you get a telegram?" he asked.
"No. Did you wire us you were coming?"
"Not that, exactly. You see, it was like this, Mr. Hammond: when Jim didn't get back the day he was due the adjutant sent you a wire, and when he didn't get an answer he sent another—and when you didn't reply to that he detailed me to come along and see what was wrong."
The storekeeper stared at him. "I never got any telegram. Jim came home on two weeks' furlough, and he has five days of it left. You and your adjutant must be crazy."
"Two weeks," repeated Peter. "It was six days he got."