Chapter XVI: Unknown, Unguessed

At noon on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Roger, Jimmy and Bob said a regretful good-bye to Ignace and sallied forth to the station bound for a four days' furlough with the Blaises. Due to Jimmy's thoughtfulness, Ignace had that very morning received a Thanksgiving box of good things to eat from Mrs. Blaise that had astonished him almost to tears. He had never before come into such a windfall, and his round blue eyes grew rounder when after the departure of his bunkies he explored the contents of this holiday treat.

His first thought was of someone with whom he might share it. Franz Schnitzel appealed to him as most worthy of choice. Like himself, Schnitzel never received either money or gifts from home.

Thanksgiving Day ended Ignace's detail in the mess kitchen. The day following ended his period of punishment. On Saturday afternoon he and Schnitzel obtained passes and went into Tremont for a quiet but happy little celebration of their own. All in all, Ignace was not so lonely as he had expected to be. Though he sorely missed his Brothers, he was unselfishly glad of the good time they were having at Jimmy's home. Evidence of that reached him on Saturday afternoon in the shape of post cards from all three, which he lugged happily about in a coat pocket for a week after their return.

Detail of Schnitzel to kitchen duty on Sunday morning robbed Ignace of his company at breakfast. During the absence of his bunkies, Ignace and the German-American had daily sat side by side at mess, saying little but nevertheless well content in each other's society. They were becoming very good friends.

Sunday noon landed Bob, Jimmy and Roger in barracks with a rush. They pounced upon Ignace with good-humored roughness and plied him with endless questions about himself and his doings during their absence.

"Now for the love of Mike, Iggy, do behave like a little tin soldier until Christmas," admonished Bob. "Jimmy's folks want us with them for the Christmas furlough. That means you. If you happen to see anybody trying to slay us all in a bunch, let 'em try, but you keep out of the slaying. You've done your stretch. Be satisfied. Let somebody else get it in the neck for a change."

It was not until in the evening when the four Khaki Boys were leaving the "Y," where they had spent an hour after mess, that Jimmy bethought himself to ask Iggy, "Did Schnitzel have any trouble with Bixton while we were gone? I heard before we left that Bixton was wild because he had to stay in camp. I thought, maybe, he'd try to take it out on Schnitz."

"No. He no do nothin', no say nothin'. He have the big box to eat he get by home. Himself eat, no give nothin'. All time smoke an' look mad. Schnitzel no care. He stay by me. We are the frens."

"'Himself eat,'" mimicked Jimmy. "I wish he would, and not leave a scrap!"

"You should worry. He's safe for a while. He won't risk any more run-ins with the K. O. for fear of getting canned up for Christmas. Bottled Bixton doesn't look good to him just now." Bob grinned at his own fanciful labeling of the obstreperous Bixton.

"I guess he's about through as a trouble bird," observed Jimmy. "That detail in the mess kitchen must have cured him. I'll bet he hated to go to it."

"Never I like him that kitchen," sighed Ignace. "Schnitzel no mind. He ver' good solder. Say--say---- What him say?" Wrestling with memory, Ignace ended with a triumphant, "Him say, 'All the duty him a line'!"

"Oh, wow!" shouted Bob gleefully, slapping Iggy on the back. "That's a funny one!"

"You have the grow stron'er," placidly remarked the misquoter, unruffled by Bob's levity.

Taps that night left the Khaki Boys ready for a quick hike into dreamland. The next day dawned like any one day at Camp Sterling, with a concerted rush on the part of several thousand Sammies to get into their uniforms and line up for roll call.

"With all due credit to our hard-plugging cooks, I'm not what you might call a hearty eater," grumbled Bob to Roger, as the Khaki Boys of Company E stood before the counter in the mess hall at noon. "Mrs. Blaise's cook beats Mrs. Army's hash maidens all hollow."

"It _is_ a come down." Roger smiled at Bob's nonsense. "I'm not very hungry, either. I've lost my appetite, I guess, from eating so much sweet stuff. No more of it for me to-day or to-morrow either."

"Nor me." Having received his portion in his mess kit, Bob eyed it with disfavor. "Beans," he commented. "I'll try 'em. This pale, simple, gooey rice pudding---- No, thank you. Bobby has chok'lit candy and nice cake in his suit-case. Go 'way, nasty old pudding!"

His scornful repudiation of the unoffending rice pudding was not the only one. Neither Jimmy nor Roger were tempted to the point of trying it. Ignace swallowed one small spoonful and with a disdainful, "No taste nothin," ate no more of it. The glories of his wonderful Thanksgiving treat were still hovering over him, hence his will to criticize everyday fare.

Shortly after one o'clock Assembly something happened to the platoon of Company E men of which the four Khaki Boys were a part. In the midst of drill a soldier dropped his rifle, clapped both hands over his stomach with a deep groan, and, doubling up like a jack-knife, pitched forward to the ground, a writhing heap. Hardly had the lieutenant commanding the platoon reached him when a second, then a third man collapsed in precisely the same fashion.

In the next few moments the lieutenant fully demonstrated his prompt ability to act in the face of an emergency. Taking instant command of the situation, he rapped out his orders with crispness and dispatch. Before aid had arrived, however, from the nearby base hospital, at least a dozen more men were showing signs of the strange malady. These last, Ignace among them, were still able to keep on their feet. Only the first three victims were entirely out of commission.

The arrival of an ambulance, manned by a detail of men attached to the base hospital, saw the work of caring for the sufferers speedily under way. Already ordered to "Fall Out," the still unaffected men of the platoon were dismissed with the order "To Barracks." They were also instructed to report at the hospital at the slightest sign of indisposition.

During the excitement an ominous whisper had winged its way among the dismayed participants in the tragic scene which presently grew to an audible murmur of "Poison!" At that dread word, unspoken questions leaped into the strained eyes of the gray-faced men who had thus far felt no indications of that baleful seizure. In the same instant it had come home to each that in some stealthy fashion one of the myriad secret enemies of Uncle Sam had found his opportunity to strike. In the midst of apparent safety had lurked an unknown, unguessed foe.