Chapter XIII: A Corporal at Last

Returned from drill that afternoon, Bob, Jimmy and Roger were jubilant to learn that Ignace had escaped the guard-house. They were also greatly surprised, and not a little pleased to hear from him of the sturdy stand Schnitzel had taken in his behalf.

"It was white in Schnitzel to do that," lauded Jimmy. "I'll bet it helped some, even if he couldn't say he'd really seen Bixton do anything crooked. I'd just like to know why that sneak was fishing around my cot. After my suitcase, maybe. But what would he want that's in there?"

"Most any little thing that he didn't happen to have and took a fancy to," shrugged Bob.

"More likely he wanted to get at your side of the rack and do some mischief to your clothing," was Roger's sage opinion. "Slash your overcoat or cut all the buttons off it, or do something of that sort. I've heard that he has plenty of money to spend, and that he gets lots of stuff from home. He was out to do something malicious rather than steal. He's the kind of a man that holds a grudge."

"There's something in that," nodded Bob reflectively. "Well, he's canned for a while, anyhow. He'll have to lie low and mind his p's and q's. Hope he doesn't try later to take his spite out on Schnitzel. I guess Schnitzel's not afraid of him, though. What he did for Iggy proves that much."

"Schnitzel's too much of a man to let a sneak like Bixton get his goat," asserted Jimmy. "He'll plod along just as he's done before and pretend not to notice that yellow cur. We ought to do something to show Schnitzel that we think he's O. K. I've never had much to say to him 'cause I've always thought he'd rather be let alone. Now I'm going to make a stab at getting acquainted with him."

"So stab I, too," agreed Ignace promptly, which raised a laugh at his expense.

"You've done enough 'stabbing' to hold you for a while." The smile faded from Jimmy's lips. "Do you know that your thirty days'll be up just one day after Thanksgiving? You've given the 'strong poonch' to a plan of mine. I wanted all three of you fellows to go home with me for Thanksgiving. I'd already fixed it up with Mother. Now you've gone and queered yourself on my account, so I guess we'd all better stay here for Thanksgiving and keep you company."

Ignace eyed Jimmy wistfully. "No," he announced with heroic positiveness, "never you stay here for the Thankgivin'. You go home, along Bob and Roger. You stay here, I am the mad. No speak you, no look you, no nothin'. I am no the pig. You go by Jimmy?" he demanded anxiously of Roger and Bob.

"This is so sudden," murmured Bob. "It takes my breath."

"You and Jimmy will have to settle it between you, Iggy," laughed Roger. "It's not up to Bob and me to choose. All I have to say is that it's mighty fine in you and your folks, Blazes, to want us with you for our Thanksgiving furlough."

"It certainly is," Bob agreed warmly.

"You see?" Ignace turned triumphantly to Jimmy. "Bob and Roger want go by your house. So is it." Having made up his mind on this important point, Ignace was firm.

True to his word, that very evening Jimmy sought out Schnitzel and invited him to go for a stroll about the camp, in company with Bob and Roger. The man's gloomy face brightened perceptibly as he somewhat hesitatingly rose from his cot, laid aside a book he had been reading, and followed Jimmy to the stairs, where his two friends stood waiting. Due to his reticent, stand-offish manner, it was the first invitation of the kind he had received since his arrival at Camp Sterling.

Bixton's malicious intimations against him had done far less to ostracize him than had his own hurt pride. Keenly sensitive of his German parentage, the first whisper against his loyalty to the Flag had caused him to retreat into his shell.

It is said that out of evil some good must eventually come. The disturbance between Ignace and Bixton resulted at least in awakening in the minds of Iggy's bunkies a genuine interest in Schnitzel, which was one day to prove his salvation. Though he responded rather shyly to their kindly overtures, he made a favorable impression on all three, and, in his reserved fashion, soon grew to be on fairly friendly terms with them. With Ignace he appeared to be even a trifle more at ease. He had not forgotten the little incident of the mess hall. Ignace had come to him at a moment when he most needed companionship. That he was grateful he had summarily proved.

Meanwhile both participants in the fight were feeling the effects of their breach of good conduct. Added to their daily routine of drill was hard work and plenty of it, not to mention the loss of all privileges, confinement to the company street, and the too-searching eyes of the top sergeant keeping tab on their movements.

Ignace did not so much mind the hard work. He had never been used to anything else. Loss of privileges and confinement to the company street were his chief crosses. Though November was fast slipping away, the weather had remained mild. There had been plenty of sunshine and little rain. In consequence, his Brothers spent much of their leisure time out-of-doors, and it grieved Ignace not a little not to be in a position to accompany them on their frequent jaunts about the camp, or on brief expeditions to Glenwood.

Bixton, on the contrary, resented far more than loss of privileges and confinement to company street, the amount of hard work he was made to perform. He disdainfully regarded the various camp labors imposed upon him as servant's tasks. Brought up in idleness by a too-adoring widowed mother, his enlistment had come about as the result of a disagreement with her over money.

From the moment in which he had begun to realize that the Army had "got" him, he had become at heart a slacker. He had been careful not to let it be suspected, however, among the men in his barrack.

Spiteful by nature, he was ready to make any man whom he did not like an escape-valve for his pent-up malice against the military. He had picked Schnitzel as his first victim, but without any special success. The German-American had refused to quarrel with him or notice his petty attempts to torment him. He had accordingly started upon Ignace, thereby drawing down upon himself Jimmy's hearty dislike, which he had returned with equal intensity. As Roger had surmised, Bixton's stealthy trip across the squad room had to do with certain dark designs on Jimmy's equipment, best known to the author of them. The drubbing Ignace had given him, followed by the summons before the K. O., died into insignificance beside the unexpected move Schnitzel had made against him. He now had but one object in life: to "get even" with "that German snake."

If Franz Schnitzel suspected Bixton of harboring plans for revenge, he kept it to himself. When in company with the four Brothers, Bixton's name seldom crossed his lips. Warned by the impetuous Jimmy to "look out for that hound," he merely replied, "I'm not afraid of him." No one save himself knew of the alert watch he kept on himself and his belongings. If Bixton tried to "put anything over on him," he proposed to be ready to hold his own.

With the middle of November came the first signs of approaching winter. Light falls of snow blanketed the camp and the nights grew cold. Thanks to the beneficent efforts of that indefatigable band of Army welfare workers, the Red Cross, Uncle Sam's boys at Camp Sterling were the grateful recipients of extra quilts, sweaters, knitted wristlets and warm under-clothing. Among the more fortunately-situated soldiers, such as Jimmy Blaise, who were already well supplied with every comfort, these unexpected gifts were passed on by them to more needy comrades. Due to delay in the turning on of steam heat in the barracks, these extra quilts were particularly welcome. After the hard day's routine of outdoor drill, the tired soldier boys had on more than one night found their allotted bed covers insufficient against the snapping cold. It was the first real discomfort they had encountered since their enlistment, and the majority of the camp contingent accepted it in the spirit of true veterans.

Veterans they were fast becoming. All traces of the rookie had long since vanished. They had acquired the erect carriage and long, purposeful stride that indelibly marks a man the world over as belonging or having once belonged to the military. Each day saw them engaged in learning or perfecting some necessary part of the soldier's trade. Strenuous practice hikes about camp, bayonet drills, trench instruction, target practice, together with the thousand and one details of military training, now entered into their scheme of life.

Among them all, there was no finer example than Jimmy Blaise of what military training will do for a young man. He was not only a joy to look at, so far as soldierly bearing went. He was also verifying the early promise he had shown of inevitably rising from the lowly private to the rank of a non-commissioned officer. Off duty and among his bunkies he was the same easy-going Jimmy. On duty he was a man who regarded the Service as a religion and lived up to it devotedly. Whatever he was ordered to do he did, with an intelligence and finish which marked him as one who keenly _felt_ his responsibility.

No one except himself was greatly surprised when, just a week before Thanksgiving, he received a warrant from Washington, which signified that his appointment to a corporalship had been approved by Major Sterns, his commanding officer. So far as friendliness can be demonstrated in the Army between a commissioned officer and an enlisted man, Jimmy stood well in the estimation of the major.

Strangely enough it was his knowledge of automobiles which had brought him first notice from the commanding officer. The removal of a man, who had acted as the major's chauffeur, to another training camp had caused the K. O. to look about him for a substitute. It having reached the ears of Sergeant Dexter that "Blaise owned a car and knew a lot about buzz wagons," he had promptly acquainted the major with the fact. The result was that Jimmy was detailed one Sunday afternoon to drive the K. O. into Tremont. This trip was the first of other similar expeditions in the major's service. His delight in them was scarcely greater than that of his bunkies. Though Bob and Roger teasingly accused him of "being raised a pet" and warned him against "getting the big head," they were unenviously glad of his good luck.

So it was that when, on the momentous afternoon of his rise from the ranks, he proudly confided to them the great news, they received it with a jubilation second only to his own.

"You're hiking right along on the Glory Road, old man," was Bob's hearty congratulation as he wrung Jimmy's hand.

"Mebbe soon top sergeant," averred Ignace hopefully, his solemn face wreathed with smiles.

"Then you'll lose your bunkie, Iggy," teased Bob. "Top sergeants are rare, exclusive birds, you know. They roost on the roof of the barracks with their heads in the air. They have their uses, though. They stop fights, quell frays and disorders and----"

"Oh, chop it," cut in Jimmy in sheepish protest. "The war'll be over long before I ever get that far. You fellows will probably be corporals, before long. I hope so. I'm not so much." It was Jimmy's favorite summing-up of himself. "Course I'm glad it happened. I guess it was just luck, though. Anyway, I'm going to be a bully good corp. if I can. No half-way business about it. I don't expect to go any higher in a hurry. I wouldn't care to, unless I could take you fellows along with me. I'd rather be one of the four Brothers than a rare bird that roosts on top of the barracks. I'd rather stay with the gang and see what happens."