d him. Remembering the Kid's gibes at John and his
numerous dependents, I said: "You another college chum of John's?"
The young man answered my question quite seriously. "No," he said;
"John graduated before I entered; but we belong to the same
fraternity. It was the luckiest chance in the world my finding him
here. There was a month-old copy of the _Balkan News_ blowing
around camp, and his name was in the list of arrivals. The moment
I found he was in Salonika, I asked for twelve hours' leave, and
came down in an ambulance. I made straight for John; gave him the
grip, and put it up to him to help me."
"I don't understand," I said. "I thought you were sailing on the
_Adriaticus?_"
The young man was again pacing the floor. He halted and faced the
harbor.
"You bet I'm sailing on the _Adriaticus_" he said. He looked out
at that vessel, at the Blue Peter flying from her foremast, and
grinned. "In just two hours!"
It was stupid of me, but I still was unenlightened. "But your
twelve hours' leave?" I asked.
The young man laughed. "They can take my twelve hours' leave," he
said deliberately, "and feed it to the chickens. I'm beating it."
"What d'you mean, you're beating it?"
"What do you suppose I mean?" he demanded. "What do you suppose
I'm doing out of uniform, what do you suppose I'm lying low in the
room for? So's I won't catch cold?"
"If you're leaving the army without a discharge, and without
permission," I said, "I suppose you know it's desertion."
Mr. Hamlin laughed easily. "It's not _my_ army," he said. "I'm an
American."
"It's your desertion," I suggested.
The door opened and closed noiselessly, and Billy, entering,
placed a new travelling bag on the floor. He must have heard my
last words, for he looked inquiringly at each of us. But he did
not speak and, walking to the window, stood with his hands in his
pockets, staring out at the harbor. His presence seemed to
encourage the young man. "Who knows I'm deserting?" he demanded.
"No one's ever seen me in Salonika before, and in these 'cits' I
can get on board all right. And then they can't touch me. What do
the folks at home care _how_ I left the British army? They'll be
so darned glad to get me back alive that they won't ask if I
walked out or was kicked out. I should worry!"
"It's none of my business," I began, but I was interrupted. In his
restless pacings the young man turned quickly.
"As you say," he remarked icily, "it _is_ none o
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