e
other day I was going to tell you about my uncle but I forgot to. He was
in the Civil War--he got his arm shot off. So I got a lot to be proud
about, anyway. Just because my father didn't get a job most--most of the
time----"

"Ah!" vociferated Frenchy, clapping him on the shoulder. "You are
ze--how you say--_one_ fine boy!"

Tom remained stolid, under this enthusiastic approval. He was thinking
how glad and proud he was that his father had licked him for forgetting
to hang out the flag. It had not been a licking exactly, but a beating
and kicking, but this part of it he did not remember. He was very proud
of his father for it. It was something to boast about. It showed that
the Slades----

"Yess, you are a fine boy!" said Frenchy again, clapping him on the
shoulder with such vehemence as to interrupt his train of thought. "Zey
must be fine people--all ze way back--to haf' such a boy. You see?"

FOOTNOTE:
[1] Submarines.

CHAPTER IX

HE SEES A STRANGE LIGHT AND GOES ON TIPTOE

Of course, it would have been expecting too much to suppose that the
boys in khaki would overlook Tom Slade any more than Frenchy would
escape them, and "Whitey" was the bull's-eye for a good deal of target
practice in the way of jollying. It got circulated about that Whitey had
a bug--a patriotic bug, particularly in regard to his family, and it was
whispered in his hearing as he came and went that his grandfather was
none other than the original Yankee Doodle.

Of course, Tom's soberness increased this good-natured propensity of the
soldiers.

"Hey, Whitey," they would call as he passed with the captain's tray, "I
hear you were born on the Fourth of July. How about that?"

Or

"Hey, Whitey, I hear your great grandfather was the fellow that put the
bunk in Bunker Hill!"

But Tom did not mind; joking or no joking, they knew where he stood with
Uncle Sam and that was enough for him.

Sometimes they would vary their tune and pleasantly chide him with
being a secret agent of the Kaiser, "Baron von Slade," and so on and so
on. He only smiled in that stolid way of his and went about his duties.
In his heart he was proud. Sometimes they would assume to be serious and
ply him with questions, and he would fall into their trap and proudly
tell about poor old Uncle Job and of how his father had licked him, by
way of proving the stanch Americanism of the Slades.

In their hearts they all liked him; he seemed so "easy" and bluntl