pillow. "Have a nip?"

"I don't mind if I do," Claude put out his hand.

The other laughed and sank back on his pillow, drawling lazily,
"Brave boy! Go ahead; drink to the Kaiser."

"Why to him in particular?"

"It's not particular. Drink to Hindenburg, or the High Command,
or anything else that got you out of the cornfield. That's where
they did get you, didn't they?"

"Well, it's a good guess, anyhow. Where did they get you?"

"Crystal Lake, Iowa. I think that was the place." He yawned and
folded his hands over his stomach.

"Why, we thought you were an Englishman."

"Not quite. I've served in His Majesty's army two years, though."

"Have you been flying in France?"

"Yes. I've been back and forth all the time, England and France.
Now I've wasted two months at Fort Worth. Instructor. That's not
my line. I may have been sent over as a reprimand. You can't tell
about my Colonel, though; may have been his way of getting me out
of danger."

Claude glanced up at him, shocked at such an idea.

The young man in the berth smiled with listless compassion. "Oh,
I don't mean Bosch planes! There are dangers and dangers. You'll
find you got bloody little information about this war, where they
trained you. They don't communicate any details of importance.
Going?"

Claude hadn't intended to, but at this suggestion he pulled back
the door.

"One moment," called the aviator. "Can't you keep that
long-legged ass who bunks under you quiet?"

"Fanning? He's a good kid. What's the matter with him?"

"His general ignorance and his insufferably familiar tone,"
snapped the other as he turned over.

Claude found Fanning and the Virginian playing checkers, and told
them that the mysterious air-man was a fellow countryman. Both
seemed disappointed.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Lieutenant Bird.

"He can't put on airs with me, after that," Fanning declared.
"Crystal Lake! Why it's no town at all!"

All the same, Claude wanted to find out how a youth from Crystal
Lake ever became a member of the Royal Flying Corps. Already,
from among the hundreds of strangers, half-a-dozen stood out as
men he was determined to know better. Taking them altogether the
men were a fine sight as they lounged about the decks in the
sunlight, the petty rivalries and jealousies of camp days
forgotten. Their youth seemed to flow together, like their brown
uniforms. Seen in the mass like this, Claude thought, they were
rather noble looking fellows. In