long, horizontal
object concealed by a canvas cover; "that's him, the bully old boy!"

"A gun, is it?"

"You'd say so if you heard it pop and saw it jump--that's how it got its
name."

In the photograph three young men in khaki, one with his sleeves rolled
up, were leaning against a steamer's rail.

"Are they Americans?" Tom asked, for he was puzzled about his new
friend's nationality.

"You said it."

One of the gun crew was smiling straight at Tom so that he almost smiled
back, and the lump came up higher in his throat and his eyes glistened.

"Do you live around here?" he asked. "I'd like to know what your name is
and what--and how you----" he broke off.

"You see that house over the hill? I live there. And I'm going back on
the job now. What d'ye say we move along?"

They lifted the valise and started along the road.

"This is the last day of my leave," said the youth. "Here, see?" And he
exhibited a steamship card with the name of a steamer upon it and the
name of Archibald Archer written in the blank space underneath.

"That's my ship, and I go aboard her to-day, thank goodness! This'll be
my third trip across, and the second time I've been home. This bag is
half full of apples. Tommy Walters is crazy about 'em. The last trip,
when I was home, I took him some russets. He wouldn't let me pop the
gun, but he said if the dirty beast came near enough I could let him
have the core of an apple plunk in his old periscope. If you were there,
we'd sit on the main hatch eatin' apples and watchin' for periscopes. I
don't have much to do after I get my berths made up."

"Do you work on the ship?" Tom asked.

"You bet! I'm one of the steward's boys. Gee, if you had to make
fifty-seven beds with a life preserver on, you'd know what it is to be
tired! Carrying this old suitcase is a cinch compared to that!--Say, if
there's a Zep raid in London while I'm there I'll get you a souvenir.
But the trouble is they never come when you want 'em to. Do you live in
Leeds?"

"I live in Bridgeboro, New Jersey," said Tom, "and my name is Slade. I'd
tell you to call me Tom, only I won't know you more than half an hour or
so, so what's the use?"

"Half an hour's better than nothing," said Archibald Archer. "Are you
on your way home?"

"I just came from the camp," said Tom, side-stepping the real object of
his trip. "You know Temple Camp, don't you? I work for Temple Camp."

He was glad that his companion did not pursue hi