"For God's sake don't dwell on that point any more!" I cried. "We
understand it perfectly."

"A regular lil' home," muttered Tim as he began to stow his bag.

(Later) I write these lines with horror. Some one has told me that the
Navy needs Powder tasters, something I'd never heard of before, and
that perhaps--that's what we are going to be used for. All you have to
do, this guy says, is to taste the powder to see if it's damp or dry
and if it's damp you take it away and bake it. This sounds worse than
the Submarine Provoker.

(Still later) Rumor is rife. The latest report is that we are going to
be Mine Openers.

"What's a Mine Opener?" I asked my informant.

"Why, it's a guy," says he, "that picks up the mines floating around
his boat, but only the German mines of course, and opens them to see
if they are as dangerous as they look. Some are not half as dangerous
as they look," he continues easily, "some are not quite so dangerous
and of course some are a great deal more so. But they are all
dangerous enough."

"My dear chap," I replied, turning away miserably, "a pinwheel is
quite dangerous enough for me."


_Sept. 6th._ This is being written from the gate. My bag and hammock
are beside me. Tim lashed them together for me so they wouldn't come
undone. We are waiting for the truck. Tony in his excitable way wants
to kiss the guard good-by. The guard doesn't want him to. My last
moments at Pelham have been hectic. The doctor said I looked one
hundred per cent better than when I came in, but that wasn't enough.
If you didn't look at me very closely you wouldn't know that I was
such an awful dub. This is progress at any rate. The telephone wires
between mother's house and the camp were dripping wet with tears when
I phoned her that I was being shipped. However, she braced up and said
she was proud of me and said she hoped I'd tell the captain good-by
and thank him for all he has done. I assured her I would do this, or
at least leave a note. Polly was a trump. The Spider talked to her and
said that he was going to save the best uncut stone for her that he
had ever bitten out of a ring. The Spider has been very valuable to us
all. He seems to have the uncanny faculty of being able to take the
cloth straps off other people's clothes right before their eyes.
Consequently we are well supplied. At present he's looking at the
handle of the gate in a musing way. I think he would like to have it
as a souvenir. Here comes the truck. Pelham is about to lose its most
useless recruit. I must tuck these priceless pages in my money belt.
Wish I had a picture of Polly. Well, here's to the High Adventure, but
there's something about that Submarine Provoker I can't quite get used
to. It seems just a trifle one sided. However, that is in the lap of
the gods. Instead of a camp I will soon have the vast expanses of the
ocean in which to demonstrate my tremendous inability to emulate the
example of one John Paul Jones.

"Bear a hand there, buddy," the P.O. has just cried at me.

"Buddy" I came in and "buddy" I go out. We're off! I can dimly
distinguish Mr. Fogerty, that unscrupulous dog that abandoned my bed
and board for a couple of influential yeomen. Farewell, Fogerty, may
your evil ways never bring you to grief. I do wish I had a picture of
my Sweetie.

[Illustration: "'BUDDY' I CAME IN AND 'BUDDY' I GO OUT"]

[Illustration: BILTMORE OSWALD and FOGARTY]


THE END