that made him mad
and one that made him glad--and that he was proud of. The licking that
his brother had got, when he could, as he had told honest Pete Connigan,
"feel the madness way down in his fingers." And the licking his father
had given _him_ for not hanging out the flag.

"_Zey must be all fine people to haf' such a boy_," Frenchy had said.
He hoped he would not see Frenchy now.

But he was to be spared nothing. The second cabin saloon was filled with
soldiers and they stared in amazement as the little group marched
through, the steady thud, thud, of the guards' heavy shoes emphasized by
the wondering stillness. Tom shuffled along with his usual clumsy gait,
looking neither to right nor left. Up the main saloon stairway they
went, and here, upon the top carpeted step sat Frenchy chatting with
another soldier. He was such a hand to get off into odd corners for
little chats! He stared, uttered an exclamation, then remembered that he
was a soldier and caught himself. But he turned and following the little
procession with astonished eyes until they disappeared.

The guardhouse was the little smoking-room where Tom and Frenchy had sat
upon the sill and talked and Frenchy had given him the iron button. Into
the blank darkness of this place he and his brother were marched, and
all through that long, dreadful night Tom could hear a soldier pacing
back and forth, back and forth, on the deck just outside the door.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] The custom of putting arrested persons in the "brig" on liners and
transports was discontinued by reason of the danger of their losing
their lives without chance of rescue, in the event of torpedoing. The
present rule is that the guardhouse must be above decks and a living
guard must always be at hand.

CHAPTER XV

HE DOES MOST OF THE TALKING AND TAKES ALL THE BLAME

Tramp, tramp, tramp--all through the endless, wakeful hours he heard
that soldier marching back and forth, back and forth, outside the door.
Every sound of those steady footfalls was like a blow, stinging afresh
the cruel wound which had been opened in his impassive nature. He was
under arrest and under guard. If he should try to get out that soldier
would order him to halt, and if he didn't halt the soldier would shoot
him. He wondered if the guard were Pickles.

He did not think at all about his deductive triumph now. And he did not
care much about what they would do with him. He wondered a little what
the soldier