Part 8 (1/2)

All day long they ran a zigzag course, taking a long cut to France, as Pete Connigan would have said, the general tension relieved by the emergency drills, manning the boats and so forth.

In the afternoon hours of respite from his duties he met Frenchy, whose patience had been a little tried by some of Uncle Sam's crack jolliers, and they sat down on the top step of a companionway and talked.

”Zis I cannot bear!” he said, shrugging his shoulders. ”To be called ze Hun! Ugh!”

”They're only kidding you,” said Tom; ”fooling with you.”

”I do not like it--no!”

”But if you hadn't become an American before the war,” said Tom, ”you couldn't have enlisted on our side because you really were a German--a German citizen--weren't you?”

”Subject, yess! Citizen, no! All will be changed. Alsace will be France again! We go to win her back! Yess?”

”Yes,” said Tom. ”I only meant you belonged to Germany because you couldn't help it.”

”You are a lucky boy,” Frenchy said earnestly. ”Zare is no--what you say?--Mix-up; Zhermany, France, America--no. You are all _American_!”

”I got to remember that,” said Tom simply. ”I know some rich fellers home where I live. They let me join their scout troop, so I got to know 'em. One feller's name is Van Arlen. His father was born in Holland.

They got two automobiles and a lot of servants and things. But anyway my father was born in the United States--that's one thing.”

”Ah,” said Frenchy, enthusiastically, ”zat is ever'ting! You are fine boy.”

His expression was so generous, so pleasant, that Tom could not help saying, ”I like France, too.”

”Listen, I will tell you,” said Frenchy, laughing. ”It is ze old saying, 'Ever' man ha.s.s two countries; hees own and France!' You see?”

In the warmth of Frenchy's generous admiration Tom opened up and said more than he had meant to say--more than he ever had said to anyone.

”So I got to be proud of it, anyway,” he said, in his honest, blunt fas.h.i.+on. ”Maybe you won't understand, but one thing makes me like to go away from Bridgeboro, kind of, is the way people say things about my folks. They don't do it on purpose--mostly. But anyway, all the fathers of the fellows I know, they call them Mr. Blakeley and Mr. Harris, and like that. But they always called my father Bill Slade. I didn't ever hear anybody call him Mister. But anyway, he was born in the United States--that's one sure thing. And so was my grandfather and my grandmother, too. Once my father licked me because I forgot to hang out the flag on Decoration Day. That shows he was patriotic, doesn't it? The other day I was going to tell you about my uncle but I forgot to. He was in the Civil War--he got his arm shot off. So I got a lot to be proud about, anyway. Just because my father didn't get a job most--most of the time----”

”Ah!” vociferated Frenchy, clapping him on the shoulder. ”You are ze--how you say--_one_ fine boy!”

Tom remained stolid, under this enthusiastic approval. He was thinking how glad and proud he was that his father had licked him for forgetting to hang out the flag. It had not been a licking exactly, but a beating and kicking, but this part of it he did not remember. He was very proud of his father for it. It was something to boast about. It showed that the Slades----

”Yess, you are a fine boy!” said Frenchy again, clapping him on the shoulder with such vehemence as to interrupt his train of thought. ”Zey must be fine people--all ze way back--to haf' such a boy. You see?”

FOOTNOTE: [1] Submarines.

CHAPTER IX

HE SEES A STRANGE LIGHT AND GOES ON TIPTOE

Of course, it would have been expecting too much to suppose that the boys in khaki would overlook Tom Slade any more than Frenchy would escape them, and ”Whitey” was the bull's-eye for a good deal of target practice in the way of jollying. It got circulated about that Whitey had a bug--a patriotic bug, particularly in regard to his family, and it was whispered in his hearing as he came and went that his grandfather was none other than the original Yankee Doodle.

Of course, Tom's soberness increased this good-natured propensity of the soldiers.

”Hey, Whitey,” they would call as he pa.s.sed with the captain's tray, ”I hear you were born on the Fourth of July. How about that?”

Or