an could herd them back to camp.

Napoleon was not only partially submerged when Van effected his
capture; he was also shaved. Van looked him over critically.

"Nap," he said, "what does this mean?--you wasting money on your face?"

Napoleon drunk became a stutterer, who whistled between his discharges
of seltzer.

"Wheresh that little g-g-g-(whistle) girl?" he answered, "--lit-tle
D-d-d-d-(whistle) Dutch one that looksh like--looksh like--quoth the
r-r-r-r-(whistle) raven--NEVER MORE!"

Van divined that this description was intended to indicate Elsa.

"Gone back to China," said he. "That shave of yours is wasted on the
desert air."

Gettysburg, whose intellect was top heavy, had the singular habit, at a
time like this, of removing his crockery eye and holding it firmly in
his fist, to guard it from possible destruction. He stared uncertainly
at both his companions.

"China!" said he tragically. "China?"

"Hold on, now, Gett," admonished Van, steering his tall companion as a
man might steer a ladder, "you don't break out in the woman line again
or there's going to be some concentrated anarchy in camp."

"No, Van, no--now honest, no woman," said Gettysburg in a confidential
murmur. "I had my woman eye took out the last time I went down to
'Frisco."

"You're a l-l-l-(whistle) liar!" ejaculated Napoleon.

"What!" Gettysburg fairly shrieked.

"Metaphorical speakin'--meta phor-f-f-f-f-f-(whistle) phorical
speakin'," Napoleon hastened to explain.
"Metaphor-f-f-f-(whistle)-phorical means you don't really
m-m-m-m-(whistle) mean what you say--means--quoth the
r-r-r-r-r-(whistle) raven--NEVER MORE!"

Van said: "If you two old idiots don't do the lion and the lamb act
pretty pronto I'll send you both to the poor house."

They had entered the hay-yard, among the mules and horses. Gettysburg
promptly reached down, laid hold of Napoleon, and kissed him violently
upon the nose.

Napoleon wept. "What did I s-s-s-s-(whistle) say?" he sobbed
lugubriously. "Oh, death, where is thy s-s-s-s-(whistle) sting?"

Evening had come. The two fell asleep in Algy's tent, locked in each
other's arms.

CHAPTER XIII

A COMBINATION OF FORCES

Bostwick effected a change of dress in the rear of the nearest store.
A rough blue shirt, stout kahki garments and yellow "hiking" boots
converted him into one of the common units of which the camp throng was
comprised. He was then duly barbered, after which he made a str