“Spies are Everywhere”
“Ugh!” grunted Dorsey. “The very recollection of that ordeal makes me wish to recollect something else.”
“The kind of air-sickness you get by the unearthly dips and twists of an airplane has sea-sickness beaten to a frazzle,” commented Ben Holt, pleasantly.
“Then I’m not anxious to make its acquaintance,” grinned Don. “I had a few nerve tests, too, made in a pitch-dark room, which weren’t altogether pleasant. Among other things, a revolver was unexpectedly fired several times close beside me.”
“It’s tough, how they treat a perfectly respectable chap,” chirped Cal Cummings.
“My, what a relief it was to receive a service order requiring me to report to the headquarters of the Flying Corps of Dijon!”
“That’s an old story with us,” drawled Mittengale. “Once there, you had to answer a lot more questions. Then you paid a visit to the ‘Vestiare,’ where the soldiers are outfitted. A uniform, shoes, socks, overcoat, hat and knapsack were passed out, and thereby, and also perforce, another chapter added to your brief but eventful history.”
“Besides all that, I received a railroad pass to come here, and also three sous, representing that many days’ pay,” chuckled the new candidate. “The salary I’ve already squandered,” he confessed, with a grin.
“Awful! The French Government should be told about it,” exclaimed Gene Shannon, laughingly. “But now, son, perhaps you would like to begin a new chapter by paying the captain a very necessary call?”
“To be sure!” said Don.