“Have you been there?” Phil asked, all interest.
“No,” Tillotson replied carelessly.
“What is your plan?” Phil inquired quickly.
Tillotson eyed the lad, his blue eyes wide with astonishment, while a superior smile curved the corners of his mouth.
“Plan?” he asked. “Why, just to land, that’s all; isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, but,” Phil urged, “it’ll be dark, and if fighting is going on, we may get between the two fires. I got myself in that fix once, and I know how it feels.”
Tillotson’s eyes opened wider. He took a closer look at this young midshipman.
“What does he know of being under fire?” he thought. Tillotson was a first lieutenant; he had served in Cuba and in the Philippines, but his active duty until his assignment to the regiment whose number he now wore on his collar had been only at a desk at headquarters.
“What service have you seen?” he inquired of Phil in a patronizing voice. “Were you in the battle of Santiago, or Manila Bay, perhaps?”
“No—not those,” Phil answered quickly, awe in his voice; “only a few skirmishes, that’s all,” he added sheepishly, “in South America and in China.”