Chapter XIV: Adventure

"What's the program for to-morrow afternoon?" demanded Jimmy Blaise of his bunkies. It was Friday evening and the four Khaki Boys had finished their supper and were returning to barracks from the mess hall.

"Most any old thing except hanging around camp all Saturday afternoon," was Bob's fervent response. "Nothing that takes much dough, though. I'm saving my coin for Thanksgiving and the big town."

"Here, too," nodded Roger. "Still I wouldn't mind spending a dollar or so down in Glenwood to-morrow afternoon. A fellow told me about a bazaar that's to be held there for the benefit of the Red Cross. We might take that in. The Red Cross has been mighty good to us. I guess it wouldn't hurt us to help the bazaar along a little."

"I'll do my bit," agreed Jimmy cheerfully. "What's a few plunks to Blazes? He's going home next Wednesday."

"I can no go," stated Ignace automatically. He had said it so many times during the past month that it now fell from his lips like an oft-recited lesson.

"So we've heard you remark before," commented Bob lightly. "Never mind, Iggy, you'll soon be over your troubles. Then we'll give you a bang-up blow-out in Tremont to make up for the unhappy past." Pausing in the middle of the company street Bob raised his meat can on high and exclaimed dramatically, "One week from to-day, Ignace So Pulinski, and you shall walk forth under the open sky and from the narrow confines of the company street, shouting 'Free at last! The past is gone and cannot be recalled but the glorious future----'"

"I do, som' one see, so say I am the crazy," giggled Ignace.

"Come along before someone runs _you_ in for a nut," warned Jimmy, seizing Bob by the arm. "Here comes a shave-tail. Try that lingo on him and see what he says." By "shave-tail" Jimmy referred in Army slang to a "second lieutenant."

Four hands went up into prompt action as the lieutenant came within saluting range and passed on.

"He just missed my oration," deplored Bob.

"Run after him and tell him about it," laughed Roger.

"Some other time. I've got to attend a sewing-bee at barracks and I can't play along the way. I've a date with a needle and thread and a few buttons."

"With fingers weary and worn,
And eye-lids heavy and red,
A Sammy sat on his little cot
And counted the knots in his thread!"

caroled Bob. "That's me; Bobby, the Beautiful Seamstress, or Sewing on Buttons Against Heavy Odds. You certainly learn a lot of useful trades in the Army."

Returned to barracks, all four soon busied themselves in the going over of their effects. Saturday morning meant the weekly inspection of their cots and equipment by an officer from the regimental hospital, whose practiced eyes missed nothing in the way of defects. Thus far no one of them had failed to be in readiness for him. Nor did they intend that he should find anything to criticize.

Saturday dawned clear and sunny, with only a suspicion of frost in the bracing air. Having obtained leave of absence for the afternoon, the three bunkies started for Glenwood directly after the noon mess, Ignace accompanying them as far as the end of the company street.

Arrived at the main street of the drowsy little town, their first move was to find the building which held the Red Cross bazaar.

On entering, the three Khaki Boys found the place already well filled with Glenwood civilians and soldiers from Camp Sterling. For an hour or so they amused themselves strolling about the big room, lined on three sides with gaily decorated booths, each with its own attraction in the way of salable commodities. After conscientiously doing their bit in the way of purchasing a number of articles that caught their fancy, they left the bazaar and wandered on down the street to a bowling alley.

It was four o'clock when they emerged, each well pleased with the score he had run up. After a brief stop at a drug store soda fountain for hot chocolate, Bob was of the opinion that camp was almost as exciting as Glenwood and that they had better be beating it up the road.

Frequent side-stepping to allow the passing of jitneys to and from camp finally moved Bob to propose impatiently, "Let's get off this turnpike and hit it up across the fields. It may be a little bit roundabout but we've lots of time to get back to camp."

Roger and Jimmy agreeing, the trio left the highway, leaping a stump fence and striking off across a meadow, the withered grass of which still showed patches of green. Crossing it they went on to another field, which continued level for a little way, then sloped gradually downward. Coming to the point where the descent began, three voices were suddenly raised in a concerted shout. Their eyes had simultaneously spied at the foot of the slope that which had evoked the outcry.

"Come on!" yelled Jimmy, breaking into a run. "It's an aeroplane. Looks as though it had flopped. Maybe someone's hurt or killed!"

With a shout, a figure emerged from behind the fuselage of the quiescent plane and stood still, gazing straight at the rapidly advancing trio.

"One man alive!" yelled Bob. "Hope he's the whole show! Hey there! Anybody hurt?"

"Nope," came the cheerful hail. "Old Auntie's just wanted to take a rest. She takes 'em once in a while. She's all right now. We were getting ready to go up when we heard you yell."

With this reassuring information the speaker stepped forward, halting a few paces from the newcomers. Close survey of him showed a grinning, boyish face, looking out from a close-fitting hood. It was lighted by two dancing blue eyes, bluer by reason of their heavily marked brows and thick black lashes.

"Gee!" exploded Jimmy. "We thought it was a sure-enough smash-up! Some plane you've got there. Mind if we take a look----"

He broke off abruptly, his gray eyes widening. From the elevator of the motionless plane a stooping figure suddenly straightened up. For an instant Jimmy was under the impression that he was seeing double. "Why--what----" he gasped, as he stared stupidly at this second youth, so identically like the first, even to his wide grin.

"Twins!" Bob's quick brain had instantly grasped the situation. "Well, I'll be jiggered!"

"How did you guess it?" laughed the youth they had first addressed. "You don't think we look alike, do you?"

"Not enough so that I'd ever be able to tell you apart," retorted Bob, his black eyes twinkling.

"Oh, that's easy enough when you know us," was the jesting assurance of the other twin. "We never have any trouble about it ourselves. I wouldn't have to be a detective to spot where you fellows live. How's Camp Sterling, anyway?"

"It's there yet. At least, it was still there at one o'clock." Bob's voice quivered with amusement. His face betrayed a lively curiosity, which was plainly reflected on the features of his companions. To suddenly come upon an aeroplane taking a rest in a hollow and presided over by a couple of youngsters, so identical in every respect, even to a wide, good-natured grin, was adventure, to say the least.