"Go on, grandfather, tell me. What's D-r-a-y-l-e? What's in the box? Can't they open it? What are the soldiers for? Must they stay here? Why?"
"Drayle," said the old man, breaking through the barrage of questions, "was a close friend of mine a good many years ago."
"How many, grandfather? Fifty? As much as fifty? Did father know him? Is father fifty?"
"Forty; no; yes; no," said the harassed relative; and then with amazing ignorance inquired: "Do you really care to hear or do you just ask questions to exercise your tongue?"
"I want to hear the story, grandpa. Tell me the story. Is it a nice story? Has it got bears in it? Polar bears? I saw a polar bear yesterday. He was white. Are polar bears always white? Tell me the story, grandpa."
he old man turned appealing eyes toward the sergeant. Tacitly a sympathetic understanding was established. The warrior also was a father, and off the field of battle he had known defeat.
"Leave me handle him, sir," he suggested. "I've the like of him at home."
"I'd be very much indebted to you if you would."