ery party that
drifted in. He'd been there for weeks, I suppose, answerin' the same
fool questions over and over, knowin' all the time that half of them
that came in was bluffin' and that a big per cent. of the others
wouldn't do.

But this other party with the zippy waistline, the swellin' chest, and
the nifty shoulder-straps--why should he glare at me in that cold,
suspicious way? I wasn't tryin' to break into the army with felonious
intent. How could he be sure, just from a casual glance, that I was such
vicious scum?

Oh, yes; I've figured out since that he didn't mean more'n half of it,
or couldn't help lookin' at civilians that way after four years at West
Point, or thought he had to. But that's what I get handed to me when
I've dropped all the little things that seemed important to me and walks
in to chuck what I had to offer Uncle Sam on the recruitin' table.

Some kind of inspectin' officer, I've found out he was, makin' the
rounds to see that the sergeants didn't loaf on the job. And, just to
show that no young patriot in a last year's Panama and a sport-cut suit
could slip anything over on him, he shoots in a few crisp questions on
his own account.

"Married, you say?" says he. "Since when?"

"Oh, this century," says I. "Last February, to get it nearer."

He sniffs disagreeable without sayin' why. Also he takes a hand when it
comes to testin' me to see whether I'm club-footed or spavined. Course,
I'm no perfect male like you see in the knit underwear ads, but I've got
the usual number of toes and teeth, my wind is fairly good, and I don't
expect my arteries have begun to harden yet. He listens to my heart
action and measures my chest expansion. Then I had to name the different
colors and squint through a tube at some black dots on a card.

And the further we went the more he scowled. Finally he shakes his head
at the sergeant.

"Rejected," says he.

"Eh?" says I. "You--you don't mean I'm--turned down?"

He nods. "Underweight, and your eyes don't focus," says he snappy.
"Here's your card. That's all."

Yes, it was a jolt. I expect I stood there blinkin' stupid at him for a
minute or so before I had sense enough to drift out on the sidewalk. And
I might as well admit I was feelin' mighty low. I didn't know whether to
hunt up the nearest hospital, or sit down on the curb and wait until
they came after me with the stretcher-cart. Anyway, I knew I must be a
physical wreck. And to think I hadn't suspe