“They ain't payin' me to kid people,” said the other; and then, “What's your hurry?”
“Well, I don't want to be stalled in a trainin'-camp.”
“You won't be stalled if you know your business. What are you?”
“I'm a machinist; I've repaired bicycles, an' I know a bit about motor-cycles.”
“Walk in,” said the soldier, and led the way, and presented Jimmie to a sergeant at the desk. “Here's a machinist,” he said, “and he's in a hurry to get to work. Runnin' away from his wife, maybe.”
“There's a bunch of men starting for the training-camp to-night,” said the sergeant.
“Trainin'-camp?” echoed Jimmie. “I want to go to France.”
The other smiled. “You wouldn't expect us to send you till we'd tried you out, would you?”
“No, I suppose not,” replied Jimmie, dubiously. He was on his guard against tricks. Suppose they were to enlist him as a worker, and then make him fight!
The other went on. “If you're competent, you'll get to France all right. We need men over there in a hurry, and we won't waste your time.”