As Finley took up the pen, the labored conversation of the others reached his brain without making sense, as the knowledge smote him that they were trying to avoid hurting his feelings, and were sore at Kink for that reason. He, Jim Finley, who’d been flying bamboo kites-before they’d ever seen a plane, and was leading flights of bomb-laden Capronis across the mountains when they thought a ninety horsepower Jenny was the only airplane in the world! They didn’t kid him— didn’t kid him when the favorite trophy of McCook Field was an elaborate bronze shield whereon were engraved, with great pomp and ceremony, the names of the men who pulled really classic bones!
——, they were sorry for him!
He got very drunk that night with Frankie DeShields, a jovial airman whose firm belief it was that any landing from which one emerged alive was a good landing, and that there were no good flyers dead nor poor ones alive.
Finley’s head was throbbing dully next morning as he went through reports listlessly. It was ten o’clock when the telephone rang. He stiffened as he recognized the voice which reached his ears.
“Jim? Major Carrol, Jim. How about dropping over right away for your six hundred and nine?”
“Why, doc, I just had my semi-annual three months ago. It’s not due until—”
“I know it, but we’re getting at ’em early this time to ease the rush. Come right over, eh? Good.”
There was a curious constriction around his heart as he walked to the hospital. He wondered whether the doctor thought he’d fallen for that stuff about starting the regular physical examinations earlier? Why in —— couldn’t anybody around the field come out in the open, and say what they had to say, with no bones about it?
The spry, scrawny little medico kept up the bluff, though, and filled out long questionnaires and put the big flyer through the revolving chair and went over his scarred body from feet to ears. Finley, outwardly placid, felt the growing tautness of every nerve within him. Why bother with all this junk? Why not get to the most important item at once, instead of stalking around?
“All O.K.!” the chipper little doctor said cheerily. His eyes were glinting behind his sparkling glasses. “Now we’ll take a peek at the eyes, and we’ll be through.”