“To his feet, you mean!” chuckled a second.
“If that grin of his grows any wider his face may be seriously injured!” chirped another.
“Speech, Drugstore, speech!” howled a fourth.
If Albert had been his usual self all this attention and good-natured raillery would probably have brought a flush to his cheeks. At that moment, however, Albert wasn’t quite himself. He forgot to stammer and look embarrassed as he declared importantly:
“Let’s see some of you chaps beat it. Oh, boy, just a little while, and I’ll be shooting up to hit the blue!”
Naturally Albert’s very excellent work fired Don Hale with an even greater desire to begin his apprenticeship at the fascinating game of flying. The sun had never seemed to ascend so slowly. Hours and hours must pass before he could make his start. Really, it was quite a strain on his nerves.
At nine o’clock work was over for the morning, and the students trailed back to the barracks, where they were privileged to remain until five. The particular crowd which occupied the Hotel d’Amerique found a newcomer awaiting them. He was a very rosy-cheeked young chap; and from his uniform, still showing plentiful traces of mud and hard usage, it was seen that he, too, had once been a soldier in the famous Foreign Legion.
“My name is Dan Hagen,” he announced, pleasantly. “I’m from Dublin.”
“Ah ha, boys, we now have with us Dublin Dan!” chortled Roy Mittengale.
And that was the way in which Dan Hagen received a new christening, and one that he accepted with a boisterous, rollicking laugh.