ey passed toward the door, Dick Mercer's quick ears caught a sullen
murmur from Graves.

"He's making a fine start," he heard him say to Fatty Wells, who was a
great admirer of his. "Picking out an _American_! Why, we're not even sure
that he'll be loyal! Did you ever hear of such a thing?"

"You shut up!" cried Dick, fiercely, turning on Graves. "He's as loyal as
anyone else! We know as much about him as we do about you, anyhow--or more!
You may be big, but when we get back I'll make you take that back or
fight--"

"Come on," said Harry, pulling Dick along with him. "You mustn't start
quarreling now--it's a time for all of us to stand together, Dick. I don't
care what he says, anyhow."

He managed to get his fiery chum outside, and they hurried along, at the
scout pace, running and walking alternately, toward the West Kensington
station of the Underground Railway. They were in their khaki scout
uniforms, and several people turned to smile admiringly at them. The
newspapers had already announced that the Boy Scouts had turned out
unanimously to do whatever service they could, and it was a time when
women--and it was mostly women who were in the streets--were disposed to
display their admiration of those who were working for the country very
freely.

They had little to say to one another as they hurried along; their pace was
such as to make it wise for them to save their breath. But when they
reached the station they found they had some minutes to wait for a train,
and they sat down on the platform to get their breath. They had already had
one proof of the difference made by a state of war.

Harry stopped at the ticket window.

"Two--third class--for Ealing," he said, putting down the money. But the
agent only smiled, having seen their uniforms.

"On the public service?" he questioned.

"Yes," said Harry, rather proudly.

"Then you don't need tickets," said the agent. "Got my orders this morning.
No one in uniform has to pay. Go right through, and ride first-class, if
you like. You'll find plenty of officers riding that way."

"That's fine!" said Dick. "It makes it seem as if we were really of some
use, doesn't it, Harry?"

"Yes," answered Harry. "But, Dick, I've been thinking of what you said to
Graves. What did you mean when you told him you knew more about me than you
did about him? Hasn't he lived here a long time?"

"No, and there's a little mystery about him. Don't you know it?"

"Never heard of su